Persephone Thesis: EssayPersephone Thesis: Essay ComponentPersephone Thesis: Essay5 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
"Happy is he among men upon earth who has seen these mysteries!
It is generally accepted among historical scholars that the cult of Demeter and Persephone, or Kore, existed in Greece and the surrounding Mediterranean islands long before the traditional Olympian gods became entrenched. Her origins are Cretan . Like Aphrodite, the mother and daughter goddess represent a matriarchal form of fertility worship in the forms of crops and nature, and through this the cycle of birth, growth and death. This myth, however, has taken hold of imaginations from its evolutions into the Eleusinian mysteries of Ancient Greece, to the paintings of Victorian Europe, to today, each with their own distinctive takes and emphases on the story. Perhaps it is the fact that we know so little about the original tale of Persephone the daughter of Demeter, goddess of fertility, snatched
Definition"Define yourself in one word."Definition1 year ago in Philosophical More Like This
pine cone heart. it is 9:36 on a Tuesday night. i don't know if it's still snowing, but i do know it's cold and my palms are covered in a thin layer of sweat. slowly, it eats away at my epidermis like a parasite. soon i will be nothing more than skeletal muscle and a decaying pericardium. i think this is beginning to happen already, this disintegration. it began five minutes and thirty seven seconds ago when i realized two things:pine cone heart.9 months ago in Emotional More Like This
you will never love me.
i will love you all the same.
our timelines were never meant to connect, not really. there was just that second-long contact, a chance, a lifetime in my eyes. i keep replaying that moment again and again. i don't remember what you were wearing, how your hair looked, the way your smile looked. no; all i can recall is how your skin felt on your forearm, the sound of a marker against flesh.
i realize that that is all we will be: a fleeting smile. a promise to keep in
UntitledI like to lift others up because I know how awful it feels to be downUntitled1 year ago in Philosophical More Like This
The AuthorWriters paint pictures that painters can't.The Author8 months ago in Philosophical More Like This
just say so.I learned the other day what people mean when they say that you don't stop hurting, don't stop feeling the sting of grief, you just learn to deal with it. You adjust to it and it becomes normal after a while.just say so.1 year ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
It still kicks me in the chest and I have to catch my breath. I heard your song in the supermarket Tuesday afternoon and I dropped the bread. I didn't even notice until someone started humming it and I asked myself to please not cry in the middle of the bakery aisle and at least wait until I was outside. I made it to the car. And I broke and it was hard to remember that had forgotten for so long.
But I wished it had stayed forgotten.
cause I miss you again and now I'm back where I started and feeling more defeated than ever.
Little FuryThe storm throws you to my door, drenched and bloodied, god-light dimmed. The crest of the hill is underwater. You have no boots.Little Fury1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
Morning dawns cold, clear, a watery gold. You are gone.
Puzzles W1, D1I bought my sister a tangle of metallic rings in Leonardo Da Vinci’s castle because I wanted to prove her wrong. She had always underestimated me, saw me as a self-obsessed aspiring artist who is so wrapped up in her own ambitions that she can’t see the hurt around her. True, I don’t see the milk in the fridge when it’s in front of my eyes, and I forget my parents’ birthdays, but I do notice things.Puzzles W1, D110 months ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I notice my sister.
I notice when she stands in the middle of the room with a blank look in her eyes, or when she curls up on the couch for too many hours. I notice when she spends days locked in the bathroom playing games and solving puzzles on her phone in the bathtub.
I notice that she finishes them all, and that once she’s beaten the game, she starts over. And that’s how she looks at life: as a series of puzzles that must be solved, as a series of high scores to beat.
I’m one of her puzzles that she thinks she’s figured out. She look
early mornings break my heartDear xx,early mornings break my heart1 year ago in Letters More Like This
It's 4:30 in the morning and your lights are on. I know why I'm awake, plagued by sleepless nights and too much coffee and too little time. Plagued by loneliness; the kind that, ironically, refuses to leave me alone. What I'm curious about, though, is what you're doing up. Are you in love? Are you lonely? Do you get nightmares, too? I wonder what you think about, when the quiet of the world sits like a blanket of stillness over our bodies. It tucks us in but doesn't wish us sweet dreams, because it's afraid to jinx it. As if wishing us good dreams is going to give us bad ones. Maybe we've been doing it all wrong--maybe that's why I'm wrapped up in darkness every time I close my eyes. I'd like to think you'd laugh at that, call me silly, because of course it gets dark when your eyelids flutter shut. I wonder if you're actually asleep, and just too scared to close the lights. Perhaps you're dreaming, the light from your lamp guiding you to some place happy and beautiful a
My worst mistakeI was never lucky when it comes to love. Women, for some reason, were never very fond of me maybe because I am, c'mon, a bit of a geek. In the middle of all that there was an experience the left a deep mark on me. It was during my first year of high school when I deeply fell in love with a girl. When I realized that, I came up with a little scheme for her to know it. But she was already taken and, of course, I got rejected. But still, a certain friendship began to develop between the two of us and I tried to enjoy it. But I wasn't satisfied. I wanted more. I wanted something deeper, something more serious. So I started to taunt her, making moves on her, making stupid comments. As I should have expected, the friendship turned into hate. She even attacked me a few times.My worst mistake1 year ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
In the next school year, we got separated from each other and we lost touch. It was already too late when I realized my mistake and I've never corrected it. I stopped to believe in love, I get disgusted when I hear
Love-hate relationshipLove and hateLove-hate relationship8 months ago in Philosophical More Like This
Different but equal
LostI feel hollow, dead, cold.Lost1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
So empty, I can't even feel pain.
My heart seems to be made of ice.
Everything I do, say, mean, is cold.
But nothing changes.
I've stopped telling, explaining how I feel.
All I ever got were hateful words or ignorance.
I dont dare to talk anymore,
Because for everything I say, people hate me.
And nothing changes.
I dont know what I've done,
But by now, I dont know anything anymore.
I dont even know myself.
Who I am, what I want, where I go.
And nothing changes.
Voices in my head tell me to stop caring,
But I cant, and they scare me.
I dont want to go insane,
But where pain turns to ice, hope seems lost.
And nothing changes.
Im unable to quit my life and start flying away.
Im flying into thoughts, songs, words...
But everytime I open my eyes it has gone worse.
And I wonder how I go on, day after day.
And nothing changes.
I cant warm my soul, not even right now.
I switch between pain and a numb feeling I cant explain,
And nothing else matters anymore.
But I kee
Socially Acceptable LyingHi there.Socially Acceptable Lying1 year ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
You don’t know me. That’s okay, I don’t really either, I’ve come to accept that along with everyone who knows me. It’s especially weird when someone meets me for the first time and I’m wearing a sweater vest and poring over that math textbook and then the next day they see me and I’m in that short ruffled black skirt with the pink fishnet gloves. I'm the queen of whiplash and indecision.
I’m here to audition. Again. Well, again, I say—it’s not really again, not for you, because I’ve never auditioned with you before. I’ve auditioned with other people. Thirteen of them.
The first twelve were voice-acting casters and I almost got a role in two of them but then they were canceled at the last minute because they lost their animator. Actually, the second one just plain got rid of the character, but the first reason is the one I tell people.
The last one was a director, a real live director, and I st
.I beat my head into the glass shop windows – as if that would knock you out of me – clutching at my heart to assure this aching chest that I still live. Perhaps, in a way, it was the motivation I needed to keep punching pulses into my wrist. (I ache more acutely than any time before, or for any person before.).1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
I know this is a cheesy love-thing (one I thought I’d never write, and therefore can’t find it in me to name), but I can’t help but fill you into every single word and page - and therefore need to ink you out. I need to breathe you, need to tell you… tell you that sometimes, just sometimes, I can’t help but hate you – and love you – for ripping me open to bleed him out; and I’ve tried to grip at the scars that see him differently. But he will never be you, and I’m starting to doubt that I’ll ever feel whole, while I marvel over not why I still breathe, but how, when sometimes all
Dear SocietyDear Society,Dear Society1 year ago in Letters More Like This
If I may be so kind, I will lead this letter by addressing your whole state of being.
Frankly, you are a hypocrite. I do not think you, in your current state, deserve to exist on this planet.
In other words? Fuck you.
This is for me. No...This is for all the boys and girls who don't feel as if they are worthy enough of love, or acceptance, or living. This is for all the boys and girls who feel as though they are nothing. This is for all the boys and girls who return home from school every day, just to sob into their pillow, for maybe being ugly, or stupid, or gay. This is for all the boys and girls around the world, who live in horror, but never get airplay of their events.
This is for us all.
In every one of my years, I have never been so upset.
You see, Society, you like to tell us that we are all beautiful, gorgeous, handsome beings! You tell us that we're smart and intelligent. You say the color of our skin does not matter. You put us in the mindset that if we work ha
Mah-Jong Sometimes my father would get temporary jobs decorating old lady’s houses within the area of our small harbour side town. He would come home speckled and cheerfully display his work jeans to me; “the sign of a hard day’s work”. He felt proud of the various shades of magnolia that repurposed what once was blue. At times like this, when I got home from school the house would be empty. At first I was delighted to have space for myself, I played Spice Girls loudly on my white cassette player or watched Pokémon on T.V. Eventually the novelty wore off, and when I’d come home to find Dad gone for work I would go truffling, snout in my parents papers to find secrets.Mah-Jong4 months ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
When I was ten I discovered the Mah-jong set. It lay in a small black briefcase-like box, unremarkable but it resembled other boxes in which I’d been able to paw through my mother’s old broken necklaces and pinless broaches so naturally I opened
I only exist in the past.Once upon a time, I filled novels with my thoughts, cementing myself into the binding of books, the spiral bound pages beneath my bed. But time passes, my hair has grown, my handwriting has changed, and I've lost a piece of myself.I only exist in the past.1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
The moon eyed boy tells me that he loves me, but I've fallen out of love with life, and some skills, you can't relearn. I don't recognize the sound of my own voice anymore and my old words catch in my throat like a beautiful lie from centuries past.
For the first time, I am the girl I always wanted to be, apathetic and unafraid. But girls like me don't hide at night, stitching their souls into patches of their skin while the moon makes it's way across the sky. It's hard to be fearless when you let fear take you, grab you by the hand and whisper through the darkness.
But late at night, when the summer sky is swallowing us and we are more than happy to be consumed, allowing the dark silence to wipe our slates clean, I find myself missing the girl with the sun
Forgive me...I know it was my fault. I know I screwed everything up. I was madly in love with you, I was stupid and blind. I should have known we could never be together but I still tried really hard to make you like me. It was a big mistake. But I understand now. I never stood a chance. And now you hate me and you have every right to do so. But I still want to apologize. I don't love you anymore but I still care about you. Please don't hate me. It's been a long time and we've both changed. Possibly for better. Let's forget the past and start over, OK? Please?...Forgive me...6 months ago in Emotional More Like This
Just a wishI want to make something beautiful.Just a wish1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
Something that people can look at and become speechless
Something people will notice and share with others
Share this beautiful work that they have found
Because it's so beautiful
Why wouldn't they share it?
Maybe if I made something beautiful like that
I could feel beautiful
I could feel noticed
Instead of in a corner
Silently begging people to like what I've created
To hope they will find what I show them beautiful
Just like Ive always wished
I'm invisible to others
Im not attractive
I'm not special to anyone
I could find a way to stop being average
Find a way to be beautiful
Not with what I look like
Or act like
But with what I can create
What I can imagine
What I can put in words or art
I can be beautiful
I can make something truly beautiful
It's all but a dream though
Nothing will ever change
Ill never be beautiful
Never feel beautiful
Never create anything beautiful
Like Ive always dreamed
HandsHands were the subject of many discussions in our household. My mother used to trace the head and heart lines on my left hand and say, "Don't get too violent. You could kill someone." If those two lines connected, she warned, a person would be branded as aggressive, short-tempered, or mentally slow. It was spoken of by Thai ancestors, but I dismissed the story as pure folklore.Hands6 months ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
This was never an issue for me. My palm lines snake past each other, with only a trickle connecting them. It was, though, for my brother. His palm lines collided and diverged angrily across his palm. Whether it be a coincidence or not, my brother grew older with a fierce temper and smoldering grudges. I grew feebly, contracting illness constantly and succumbing under a weak will. Years later, however, our roles switched and I was an angry, explosive preteen with no filter on my mouth. I still constantly have fits of rage, but I've begun to learn how to stifle them temporarily.
As I grew, so did my hands. Others'
BulliesVerbal, physical, cyber.Bullies1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
It’s all the same.
Walking through these corridors, an outcast.
Ignorance fueling your hate,
You think you look ‘cool’ do you?
That girl you left crying,
That boy, bruised and bleeding.
It’s just a fucked up game to you.
Games have rules
As actions have consequences.
That ‘fat bitch’, she forces herself to purge. She cries looking in the mirror every night.
That ‘faggot’ you told is a disgrace. He is more capable of love than you will ever be.
That ‘ugly cow’ is more beautiful than you will ever be even with your inches of makeup.
That pregnant ‘slag’. Maybe there is a story behind it. Did you stop to think she may have been violated? Or maybe she has it all planned out, with a long term partner, a job, a future with a gorgeous young child she has always wanted. You aren't exactly a nun yourself.
That ‘emo’ you told to hang herself. Those wounds are a result of your relentless b