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Similar Deviations
you know what hurts?
filling your head with ideas and fantasies of a perfect love and dreams come true...
and finding out that just because you wish on stars, doesn't mean those burning orbs of gas even hear you.

what hurts is knowing that your world is falling apart.
that it is crumbling away, piece by piece...
and no matter how hard you try, you can't put it pack together, because the "fix instantly" glue won't stick.

what kills me is this need to be someone, to change something...
but never knowing exactly where to start.

wait.

i know where to begin.

i need to change myself before i can truly accomplish anything else.
the problem is, i'm so used to being me
that i'm unsure of how to be someone else.

or maybe i got that all wrong.

perhaps i'm so used to being someone else,
that i don't know how to be "me" anymore

it's almost a habit to pretend that the girl i see in the mirror every day is me.
she has my eyes, and my hair
and sometimes, she even wears my smile.

but there's something missing.

her eyes seem so hollow, and cold
i often wonder, if she has a soul at all.

and her smile,
the corners of her pretty mouth lift,

but smiles indicate happiness--and i know she's not happy.

the real me is always happy.
her genuine smile brightens everyone's day
her laughter resonates in their ears,
like joyful music without words.
she is beautiful.

maybe i am both of these girls.

or neither.

perhaps somewhere in between.

or maybe i am someone else entirely.

i live in such a mad world, that i don't know how i'd ever know.
maybe i'm just as mad as the rest of my world.
and i find it kinda funny
i find it kinda sad
the dreams in which i'm dying are the best i've ever had
~gary jules "mad world"
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The accounts of losing yourself were as follows:

i. The voices of the people around you started to sound like a cassette tape in fast forward. You couldn't understand why they were talking that way.
Alltheirwordsstringingtogetherinunrecognizablehighpitchedgarble.

ii. When you saw your reflection in the looking glass, you began to see someone else.
You couldn't recognize the face in the mirror. you reached out to touch who you thought you were, and your hand slipped through the surface like a hand submerging into water. And that was the last you saw of your face (or at least, what you thought was your face)


iii. So now, you became a faceless creature. You saw without eyes, hearing only static and white noise. You walked on abandoned sidewalks, tripping over broken glass and getting tangled up in withered weeds. It is there where you completely lost yourself. And no one saw you slip through the cracks into the crevices of shattered dreams and empty promises. No one saw you fall through paved over lies and stomped out wishes.

Somewhere along the way, you misplaced what it was to be human.
You became something else entirely.

You became a writer.
i became a writer, nothing was the same after that.
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original image:

by ~Ezhov

thanks, d!


the poem is a tanka

wei wu wei;
thought and act, in time,
will arise.

be as the mantis;
still the self, listen.
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On long drives, I like the sound of tires moving over pavement
It's like a soft humming, barely distinguishable if you've got the radio blasting,
or if the people around you are talking up a storm
I especially love the low whistle while passing over a bridge,
it breaks the monotonous humming for a few seconds

In silence, I can hear things so much better
Like now as I am sitting here at my desk:

I hear my computer,
it hums too, but in a different way than wheels over roads
It's a constant humming, unwavering

I hear my hand,
brushing across the paper as I write
It's a somewhat jerky sound, random and fluctuate in volume
depending on my speed (or lack thereof) as I form these words

I hear birds,
greeting one another just outside my open window
Their chirps and calls repetitive
(I wonder what they are trying to tell me over and over)

I hear my clock,
the continuous "click" as the minutes pass by,
giving the silence it's very own heartbeat

Right now I'm screaming inside, but no one can hear my cries
Not even in complete silence
Because there are some noises that aren't meant to be heard

Some noises are better off noiseless
I stay silent because any words I say are meaningless, not because it's easier to listen..
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Could it be that because you cannot see my face that you find me beautiful?
I can only imagine how it is to live life in darkness
To not be able to observe the world as anything more than shadows
[What is it like to be blind?]
I should tell you now that I am many things, but not perfect—not beautiful
[So, why do you persist in calling me so?]

I think it is because you are perceptive in ways I can never be
Unlike me, you are beautiful in the light and the dark
You see what most are blinded to
The inner loveliness that others somehow overlook
You say the best way for me to see a person is to close my eyes
[Will shutting my eyes really change my perspective?]

I wonder, why can't all of us be like you?
Why is it that we identify a person only by how they appear?
The outside is what one sees, but it is the inside that truly means something

In a literal sense, beauty eventually fades
At least, outward beauty
But you told me the beauty that you have come to notice—the beauty that you say lies within me—lasts forever

[Why then, do I only feel beautiful when you are looking at me—and you can't even properly see me?]
In the dark, I suppose I am pretty
And in the light, I only have to close my eyes to be beautiful
the best way to see a person--is to close your eyes
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Her beauty
while
evident enough
to passing glance,
more subtly
profoundly
expressed
through
haunting depths
of her eyes,
through
enchantment
mystery
of the smile
not casually given.

Words silently spoken:
her attentive
listening presence,
wandering memory
of her countenance
embody
turbulent tempestuous
potency;
inspire
poems
too messy
to share,
compositions revealing
the complete mess
this poet is.

All that spills out
my facades undone
by slightest curve
of her lips.

My soul
haunted,
inspired
with hope
for what
can never be.
This poem is about a situation with which I seem to be all too familiar. This one has been largely inspired by someone I've come to know recently, although I don't expect she would ever guess that this were the case, and I doubt I will ever be in a situation where I can tell her.
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WAKE UP IN THE MORNIN' FEELIN LIKE P. SLENDY,
GOT MY SUIT, I'M OUT THE DOOR, I'M GONNA STALK THE CITY!
'FORE I LEAVE, GRAB MY CAM, AND A MASK THAT'S FREAKY,
'CAUSE I'M JUST TELLIN' ALEX HE OWES ME A TWENTY.

I'M STALKIN'
STANDIN' ON CREEPY ROADS (ROADS)
STARIN' INTO YOUR HOMES (HOMES)
TEXTIN' YOU ON YOUR PHONE (PHONE)

YOU SEE ME
STARING INTO YOU WIN(DOW)
CREEPIN' ON YOUR FILM (SHOW)
IN MY TOWER WITH PEEP (HOLES)


I COME
IN YOUR ROOM
YOU FORGET WHAT YOU DO

ALL NIGHT
WHILE YOU FIGHT
TRY'N TO ESCAPE MY SIGHT

I'LL WATCH
WHILE YOU SLEEP
AND YOU KNOW IM A CREEP, YO
YO-O-O-O-O-O
YO-O-O-O-O-O
My friend has been begging me to put this on DeviantArt, so I decided to go ahead and do it.

If you don't know what "Slender Man" is, I suggest looking it up on knowyourmeme.com instead of watching the videos - because they're kind of freaking scary. If you are interested in watching the videos, though, you can find them on MarbelHornets channel, on YouTube.

I clearly don't own Slender Man, or Ke$ha's "Tik Tok" I just wrote the parody for the lulz.

So there it is.
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Location Name: Fast Ship S.S. Aqua
Region: Kanto/Johto
Developed by Humans: Yes
Permanent Human Occupation: Partially
Notable Features: None
Special Moniker: None

The Fast Ship S.S. Aqua is a luxury liner that travels regularly between the ports at Olivine City and Vermilion City and is thus one of several direct methods of transport between the Kanto and Johto regions. There isn't much to say about the ship in regards to Pokémon, but the many trainers scattered across the ship can still provide a decent amount of cash to those looking to score a bit of money and plenty of experience for younger Pokémon that need some training before they can face a truly difficult opponent in battle. The Fast Ship S.S. Aqua might not be as glorious as ships like the S.S. Anne, but at the very least it is an affordable trip that most people can have fun in even if they don't actually battle a whole lot.

Pokémon found here: None

Professor Wormwood
A brief synopsis of the Fast Ship S.S. Aqua. Enjoy.
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Known not for name,          but nothingness, my goal;
A man, not many,          made my moniker.  
Cold was I called          for leaving that call,
My heavenly name          never heard again.  
The first, earthen name          foretold what I left.
Pilgrim, guess my name          if you're to persevere.  
Courtesy of =Stygma, the spacing is now correct and I can start posting this style more! Hip-hip-hooray! Those of you who already answered, fret not; I changed no content, only the placement. Unless something is now totally obvious that wasn't before, you would get the same answer as you already did.
I may, later in the month, edit this description to add more details about this poetic style, but I'm waiting on that because I'm worried it will hint a bit too strongly.

Comments disabled until further notice so that no one will spoil the answer, and as a reminder that you're supposed to note me your answer anyways.

Ready?

Go.

(Confused? Read this: [link])
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I'll start with this, a simple wish
My long-awaited dream to fly
When you told me forever, I almost believed you
And I nearly let my hidden wings unfold
But then I thought maybe you didn't mean forever, not really
Maybe you were just exaggerating
So I tucked them away, hiding them deep within myself again
Flying would prove to be very lonesome, if I had no one to join me

The second was my inner desire to become lost,
To somehow lose myself in search of uncovering who I wanted to be
But to merely pretend, and fall into the masquerade of life was too effortless
Instead I sought to be free, to find what made me different and never change
That's where we clashed unpleasantly
You always knew where you were going; you always had a plan
I only drifted aimlessly, hoping that with a hint of serendipity sooner or later
I would unearth what I was looking for
Losing myself would be rather impossible, if I had nobody to find me again

The final was the most significant, but also the most strange
My fear of letting someone in, to close the distance from stranger to friend
Or even more so than a friend
All my doubts and uncertainties revolved around you  
I didn't want you to discover my soul inside and be sadly disappointed
Or maybe even disgusted with what you saw
So I didn't let you get too close, I made myself think that I wasn't what you needed
Nor would I ever be
So you see, my dear
It was very hard to be with someone, when all along I knew I was better off alone
this is a pure work of fiction..not to any one person in particular. although, the wishes, desires, and fears expressed throughout are my own. thank you for viewing. ^-^ tis much appreciated.
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