The world is such a scary place;
Reality is a nightmare...
Darkness surrounds us,
And threatens to destroy
Everything we love.
If we don't have support in life,
We might as well quit.
Everyone has to face the darkness;
The darkness will go away,
Leave us alone,
And light will return...
But if we don't,
The chaos and fear
Will consume everything,
And the world we know
Please don't leave me
To face the darkness
On my own.
Because I can't-
Not without you.
Giusto“N-o-o-o-o!”Giusto1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
He screamed at me, his goggly eyes opened like a frog’s. His voice was funny, it made me want to laugh - but he also looked scary, so I didn't. I stopped singing and stared at him. I wasn't sure if I had to close my mouth or not so I left it half open.
“No! No! No! That was not a mi sharp!”
I thought it would be good to close my mouth now. The man looked at Papa and pointed his tiny finger at me. He was all tiny, only his head was huge, with a funny mustache and the goggly eyes.
“Why did you bring this to me? Are you trying to mock me? You’re wasting my time!”
Papa was all red by now and not looking at me. I didn't know what was going on but I think Papa wanted to be away from the huge room with the piano.
“He was in the church choir” Papa stuttered. “The choir master told us he was very good – he has a very high voice – good technique -”
“Good technique? Good techniq
Seam StressThe heaviness settled in like an anvil being dropped on me. I couldn't take the fog inside my head and the lead inside my heart anymore, so I sat in the sun to melt it away. I wanted to sear every surface until I couldn't feel anymore. What kind of life is that, though, to never feel anything? To never feel the joy of love; the way it wraps its arms around your heart and traces its fingertips along your veins? Even the pain of looking back at love's scattered memories is necessary to understand how beautiful the feeling once was; how lucky you were to have ever felt its lips press to your cheek, its breath collect in the hollow of your neck. Love does these things, sews itself right up inside you to close the holes within.Seam Stress1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
You'll be told you'll find another. You'll be told to go, go and find happiness because all this is, is hurt, and nothing else. The problem is, your heart doesn't understand the complexities of bad timing or fear or settling for another because of low self-worth. You
Run......Running....Run......2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
why am I running?
My bare feet are cut from.....
I am in pain,
but it's not from the cuts.
It radiates from my core.
Extending to my shoulders,
mimicking the weight of the world.
Making it harder everyday to run...
I run from the voices who tease me,
despite the fact I'm nicer than I should.
They mock my glass heart,
even though it has been broken for a long time.
I run hollow...
the icy wind burning through the empty hollow.
because I secretly can't stand them.
I want to run from everyone's colors.
Too many of them....
I ignored it for a long time.
Now it's too much for me.
despite my bloody, torn body.
I run from them all.
Without even taking a step.
Confused EmotionsI feel lost, out of place,Confused Emotions11 years ago in Other More Like This
All I do is take up space
I leave myself thinking
What am I here for?
Nobody wants me.
Nobody loves me.
What am I doing here?
Where's the answer?
Where's the signs?
Where's my reason?
Where's my line?
How did I get here?
Why did I come?
Why don't I leave?
Do I know you?
When can we go home.
Why am I so sad?
Nothing's gone wrong...
Why do I feel so down?
Nobodie's hurt me...
Why is it so cold?
It's hot outside...
Why am I so scared?
I am not alone...
Why does helping hurt?
I try to be nice...
Why do they bug me?
I didn't bug them...
Why do I feel lost?
I'm inside my house...
Why don't I feel loved?
oh dear boyYou make me melt and you aren't even trying. Oh dear boy why do you keep doing this to me? One day I feel like running away from you until my lungs would give out, the next kissing you until we mold together. You can be such an angel and devil at the same time. All I've ever wanted was to love you as best I could, even when we were apart. You make it so hard at times though...You're a beautiful person I know this. But like Peter Pan, you have to try and grow up some time. So stop keeping me waiting and stringing me along. Because I'm still waiting and hanging on and I'll keep doing it until you say the magic words.oh dear boy4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
i'm tired so let me be brokenshe's crying in the corner againi'm tired so let me be broken3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
headphones blasting angry lyrics
to drown out everyone else around her
memories are flooding back
things hardly anyone understands
depression is such a monster
it clings to her like a leech
she's scared she'll never be rid of it
but she keeps up the fake smiles and laughter
because the facade is so much easier
she's watched so many she loves
be dropped into the ground
like the petals you pull off daisies
asking if he/she loves you or not
(how often has that answer been not?)
verbal scars still cling to her ears
and remain fresh in her mind
'go kill yourself!' 'you're worthless!'
taunting her day after day
no matter how hard she tries to bury them
she knows a lot of people have it much worse
some of them she talks to everyday
she hasn't been raped, beaten, starving
or suffered through any kind of disaster
but her pain is still there
but it's okay
her life is just dandy
(if you ask anyone else)
Burn One- A GamTav fanfiction Part 2 [Final] Summary: Your name is Gamzee Motherfucking Makara, and you aren't a good motherfucker when you're sober. That's why Karkat sent you to this place- so you could get better. You aren't going to get better. Nothing would change your habit, not Karkat, not Tavros- No one. And frankly, you're okay with that.Burn One- A GamTav fanfiction Part 2 [Final]2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
(Thank you to everyone who liked the first part of this story! I hope this conclusion is up to par with the first part. I'd like to apologize for how long it took to update this story, but I really, really wanted it to be the best that it could be. Also, I'd like to say that this story is very unrealistic, and I'm sorry for that, too. I tried my best to keep it as believable as possible, but this is a work of fiction. So anything is possible, right? :c This is still dedicated to the same person it was before, and I really hope that she and all of you enjoy this conclusion!)
The same warnings to the first one still apply.
Nonessential ProsthesisNonessential ProsthesisNonessential Prosthesis8 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
By Aaron C. Richards
The pain comes in waves like a hole in the head. A hole in the head. A hole in the head. And as each wave comes I wish I was dead. I wish I was dead. I wish it was dead.
Then the overlord comes around and everything changes. It’s all “Hail Spectrum”, and “Song of Ages” and “Whose thrum is loudest to please the queen?” I’ve been waiting a long time for my chance to please the queen. But my thrum is weak. The prettiest sounds I make are inside my head: the one place that the hive doesn’t seem to be able to get to. Because the only place darker and more twisted than the hive around me is the inside of my fucking brain. So the queen gets no pleasure from me. My DNA does not make a contribution to the hive. And my thrum doesn’t join their song.
My days are darkness, stillness, and pain. The darkness threatens to put me to sleep, and the pain wakes me back up. My food is the
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.Parenting for Sex Addicts1 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
Sixty-one SecondsIt took him sixty-one seconds to die. I counted.Sixty-one Seconds1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
The beach was only a walk away from there, and the sun was beating down on our heads and our hats. We hid under the trees and laughed. We were in love, if that's what love meant. We hugged each other, as we walked down the burning pavement in loud flip-flops and ripped shorts.
We were so close. I didn't know that that would be the last time I'd ever see him alive.
I was nervous when I told him, that if we were really in love, we would be together forever. He giggled softly, and told me forever was a long time. I knew that of course. It was too good to be true, I thought. He told me not to think about forever, and we sat on the park bench, overlooking the beach. I leaned my head on his shoulder and I felt his smile light up above me, and I smiled too and closed my eyes. Everything was perfect, that moment there, it felt like forever, a good kind of forever.
We didn't notice the shouting. We were too in love.
Love can do that. Love is blin
for riley i think i have forgotten how to dreamfor riley1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
for the last time it happened
i smiled and ran my palms through your hair
sifting out sand and fumbling at the
buried shards of sea glass
that bite at my calloused fingers.
your frothy eyes threaten to drown me
but instead i inhale dopamine and
carefully trace the thin boardwalks
that wrap around your skull
where the hair is missing.
you ask me if i cried
and i said that i
didn’t think i knew
once when i was young
i saw a baby cardinal
huddled and bleeding in the grass.
i watched the ants and the flies skim over the contours
of its closed eyelids
until i scooped it up and held
Something Borrowedgirls in white dressesSomething Borrowed1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
don't always want weddings.
the priests would speak of leaps of faith
and my hands would clasp the wood in horror,
knuckles bleached like bone- and i found
something old: the knot tied in my throat.
my vocal cords did not let empty words escape.
and there was something blue: the heart
that hesitated. how can a seedling prophesy
its harvest? how can a caterpillar promise
the power of its wings?
so let others gather flowers.
we will skip the mass
but not the bed: and through
this something borrowed,
earn a little time-
and a place to rest our heads.
Self Harm?A scar,Self Harm?6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In silence drawn,
Dont be a fool,
Why cut and burn
Behind closed doors,
Springs to mind
When I say:
Are you repulsed?
You are ignorant.
Learning for learnings sake,
Pain for pains sake.
A flicker of flame,
The glint of a blade.
Should anyone find out
My little secret.
Scars are little.
The surface heals.
We cut skin?
Scars are visible,
Pain to show the world.
And you dont realise,
Self-harm cuts deeper.
Through the LightThe cancer took Mary on a Friday, just after three in the morning. She was laying in bed, sleeping. I sat in the chair near the window, reading something, I forget now what, trying not to think about the moment, only thinking about the moment. It had just finished raining, and I had the window to the room cracked, the scent of fresh condensation floating in from the garden outside. The air smelled pure and relaxed. It was lovely.Through the Light2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I was dozing slightly when the EKG started to beep. It took me several seconds to realize what exactly I was hearing, not that it mattered much. By the time I was out of the chair, the nurse had walked in. She moved down the corridor from the lobby to the room with calm purpose, her steps quick but not rushed. She kept a forced, tiny smile at the corners of her mouth, an expression I’m sure she had used hundreds of times, and nodded to me as I dropped the book. She went straight to the machine and silenced the godawful alarm.
She checked Mary’s pul
Impact Theory"What do you want to be when you grow up?"Impact Theory2 years ago in Horror More Like This
It's a question Welknan schoolteachers ask their students every year, from the day the children enter school to the day the young adults leave. Answers are carefully catalogued and presented to the students at their graduation ceremony in a beautifully decorated scrapbook made by the teacher of each student, added to each year, growing with the child.
It's arguably a silly tradition, and perhaps even morbid to remind the adults of failed childhood dreams, but it's meant to inspire and the children love it, and it's something to do anyway.
Some kids stick to plain, safe answers- tailor, construction, banker, teacher, doctor. Others get imaginative- artist, musician, architect. Others still are painfully practical- shop assistant, office worker. Once in a while, a few are philosophical- "me" and "good" are common.
Rosalin is invariably of the plain variety, not because she isn't imaginative, practical, or philosophical (she is, at times), but be
It Is In The DoingI know what she thinks I do in the bathroom when I take a little too long,It Is In The Doing1 year ago in Drama More Like This
when I'm a little too quiet.
After all, I'm a healthy teenager with access to the internet, what else could I be doing?
She knocks on the door and asks, "Hey, what are you doing?"
Smile, my dear reader.
Chuckle a little.
Sometimes she's right.
But sometimes... Sometimes I'm on the floor or pressed hard against the wall, my heart a little too fast, my breath a little too quick... my chest a little too tight as I try to keep the sound of steadily falling tears from echoing beyond the door. As I try to keep pretences to the outside world that I do not cry, that nothing hurts me. That always, always, always, I do not fall to the madness of emotions. I have no control of my life but dammit, I am in control of myself.
But every now and then the rigid hold of apathy breaks and I am reduced to this. Crying in a place where no one will hear my tears. Where no one will hear how desperate I am. How broken.
Broken seems lik
A Whole New SongA Whole New NoA Whole New Song1 year ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I can show you the world
Shining, shimmering, splendid
Tell me grumpy cat, now when did
You last let your heart decide?
I can open your eyes
Take you wonder by wonder
Over, sideways and under
On a magic carpet ride
A whole new world
A new fantastic point of view
No one to tell us no
Or where to go
Or say we're only dreaming
A whole new No
A dulling place I don’t want to know
But when I’m way up here
It’s crystal clear
That I’m certain I do not want to be here with you
Very certain I do not want to be here with you
Boring, grumbling, wastin’ time,
Through an endless musical scene in the sky
A whole new No
Don’t you dare close your eyes
A hundred thousand things I wish to un-see
Hold your breath- it gets better
I’m not going to hold my breath
Why don’t you
I want to go back to where I used to be
A whole new world
Every turn I want to die
With new horizons to pursue
Your Body Cried CrimsonYour Body Cried CrimsonYour Body Cried Crimson1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Behind the pretty words hides a mouth of razor fangs
Quite frankly, I'm completely deranged.
So few know what lurks in my mind
What nightmare places exist for you to find.
At times I picture kissing your lips
All the while my knife slips
Into your innards and rips
Away your trust.
Stacked behind the allure of my pale eyes
Are rows and rows of myself in disguise.
The masks I wear to convince you that you're safe
Alone, you realize you're the victim I've raped.
I took away your innermost emotions
And placed them within the hands of my devotion.
Now you're trapped in my toxic web
I swallow you and you sink like lead
To the bottom of my heart.
The way I love is violent at best.
For instance, I'd like to tear your heart from your chest
And drink away the nectar of your affection.
Your body, subject to my dissection.
In this game, only I will win.
My tongue is dripping your blood and sin,
Drop by drop it sprays away
And from you, your life I take
Three in the Morning Like a panther, I slink my two-hundred fifty pounds of taut, well-toned cellulose along the dark hallway. Even the slightest noise may rouse suspicion and lead to my untimely demise. My wife is, after all, a light sleeper. She was expecting me home from the bar hours ago, but I couldn't call her and tell her I'd be late; I left my cell phone at home. Of course, John's phone was dead, and the last time I saw a pay phone it was on display at a New York art museum. So all that's left for me is to spend 15 minutes creeping past dusty memories hanging on the wall towards my goal: the door.Three in the Morning1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
BONG. BONG. BONG.
I nearly jump out of my skin as the tell-tale grandfather clock on the other end of the hallway lets the world know just how late I am getting home. A brief pause at the door gives me time to take a deep, silent breath and calm my nerves before turning the handle. I have to be patient, to take my time, perhaps even hours. A gentle push, hardly more than a n
Beginning We EndHim, in the very beginning:Beginning We End2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He is eighteen when he gets his death sentence. Unlike most death sentences, this one isn't going to send him to the guillotine or maybe the noose. Instead, it's handed to him by a doctor with very clean hands in a stark white room probably very similar to the one he'll end up dying in. And it's not the type of death sentence carried out by an impassive executor. He's essentially going to kill himself. He is dying from the inside out.
He mumbles something at the doctor, and suddenly he is on the street, a white piece of paper fisted and crumped in his hands. He's grateful it has the prescription written on it in sloppy medical scrawl, because he sure as hell can't recall half or more of the conversation he just had. All that's left are words like, "terminal" and "life-expectancy" and "5-10 years". He kicks viciously at the curb, wonders how the world can be ending on a day when the sky is blue and the clouds are full and the air is sweet.
The sun plants taun
Cell DivisionI. ProphaseCell Division1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Mom’s heels hit the tile floor like gunshots. Dad saunters from the opposite direction. As they come into view, meeting at the kitchen doorway, they robotically move together as a single unit, as if to assure us that they are still sleeping in the same room. They split at the table. Dad sits at his place, grunts into his newspaper, and spoon-feeds cereal into his half-open mouth. He hides his forearms under the paper to cover up his goose bumps. Mom, in her unraveling, tacky, autumn sweater stops short, pausing to stare out the window. Her shoulders run perpendicular to her husband. The face on her cheeks is pulled tight enough to blend in with the October clouds and fog. She’s cold enough to melt into the glass and fade into the sky.
Nobody notices that breakfast was already on the table.
“Nice weather we’re having,” Dad lies.
I place my hand on the small of Abby’s back and shuffle her into a chair. She’s only ten, but she knows be