Are you happy now?I tried my best to please them all…Are you happy now?2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
They said that I always looked too angry
So I shaved off my eyebrows
They said I always dressed bad
So I took off my clothes
They said I cried too much
So I burned out my eyes
They said I wasn't listening
So I tore off my ears
They said I always said the wrong things
So I ripped out my vocal cords
They said I always faked my smile
So I ripped off my lips
They said my hair was a mess
So I cut it off
They said my feet were too big
So I broke them
They said I walked weird
So I saw off my legs
They said I played too much with my fingers
So I pulled off my hands
They said my arms were too thin
So I tore them off
They said my belly looked funny
So I cut out my stomach
They said I sat funny
So I removed my hips
They said I breathe too loud
So I ripped out my lungs
They said I always hung with my head
So I tore it off
They said my skin tone was ugly
So I removed my skin
They said my muscles were weak
So I ripped them off the bones
They said my bon
Schizoid Personality DisorderSolitude -- My Sanctuary.Schizoid Personality Disorder5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Silence -- My Llullaby.
Observation -- My Occupation.
Intelligence -- My Curse.
Please, don't invite me to an outing that a normal person would attend in a heartbeat.
I won't hesitate to turn you down, I'm perfectly content being alone, in fact I would much rather be by myself.
It's not that I hate you, in fact I have no feelings about you, I just don't like people.
I can fully focus on my thoughts when I am free of outside distractions, such as the mindless drabble of the masses.
Solitude is My Haven, My Utopia, My Sanctuary.
Silence is golden.
The world needs a mute button, the noise is suffocating; I can't breath outside.
I yearn for sweet silence, all I want is for a few moments of absolute silence when I unwillingly leave My Sanctuary.
Once I finally get silence, I can't help but smile and allow myself to get lost in nothingness.
Silence is An Aria with no words, A Harmonious Composition, My Llullaby.
Larmes Elle serre les dents. Rarement elle n'a eu aussi mal de sa vie... et autour d'elle, ces gens qui vivent, inconscients de sa douleur... Un hurlement silencieux de révolte monte en elle, de souffrance, de chagrin, monte, monte, l'étouffe. Elle aimerait pleurer, elle ne peut pas. Trop fière. Elle ne leur montrera pas. Non. Ils ne sauront pas...Larmes5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Mais les souvenirs dansent en elle, la submerge. Elle ne la reverra plus... elle est partie... elle ne la reverra plus... elle ne la reverra plus !
Elle reporte son regard à l'extérieur. Le ciel est magnifique, strié de reflets rose, oranges, bleu... Les arbres eux-même sont grandioses, parés de leur manteau flamboyant de l'automne.
Mais cette beauté ne lui évoque que la mort. À quoi la mène sa vie ? Elle l'ignore. Où vont-ils, tous ces êtres qui se croisent, pleurent, rient... ? Elle l'ignore. Mais elle sait
End RemembranceEnd Remembrance2 years ago in Historical More Like This
Remembrance Day originates at the end of World War I. The idea is to honor those who died in the line of duty, defending their country from enemies. For all its pompous words and fancy granite memorials littered with colorful flower bouquets, Remembrance Day and others like it have failed miserably in achieving this goal.
I've often been criticized as having no respect, and that can be an impediment when discussing certain topics. However, I am often in luck – hypocrisy deserves no respect. What changed as a result of the enormous sacrifice of those who died in WW1? As the first bombs of WW2 fell just two decades later, millions once again obediently lined up under various pieces of colored cloths to slaughter and be slaughtered. It became obvious that absolutely nothing had changed, and that the millions of WW1 had died in vain.
Most would agree that all that lip service paid to the sacrifice between the two world wars wasn't good enough. To truly honor their sacrifice would be
Between Past and Future My little darling,Between Past and Future5 years ago in Letters More Like This
Yesterday I saw you in the mirror!
You were so angry that you're not growing-up faster, that you are so dependent on your family, that you don't know how love blossoms.
You were playing with sad words, trying to write a poem, to tell the world who you are and what you feel.
For a moment, I was tempted to smile, but suddenly I've realized how much I miss you and how much I want to be possible to meet you, even for a second, in the time carousel.
There are so many things I want to tell you!
I want you to know, that it was a day when I've dreamed that I see in my eyes the smile of that child who I was once.
In a twinkling of an eye, vanished in my grandfather's photo.
One minute later, I grow-up...
It was a day, when I've dreamed that I see in my eyes that beautiful teenager, full of joy and happiness, who I was once.
In a twinkling of an eye, vanished
FanFictionCiel Phantomhive sat on his chair twirling a piece of his disheveled hair. He had caught the disease that most demons dread. Boredom.FanFiction4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Trying to find a cure, he pulled up to his wooden desk near his bedroom window and looked out. Dull, boring landscape. No Finny gardening or Mey Rin and Bard chasing Pluto. He sighed. He could hardly believe it, but he missed those bumbling servants.
He glanced at the side of his desk, and noticed his laptop. He barely used it, he found no desire to, but perhaps he would start using it today?
Sebastian and Ciel shared the laptop, mostly because Sebastian's old one became too slow and it crashed every time he pulled up a website. Ciel wasn't sure what website he went on, but to destroy the hard drive, must has been one hell of a website.
Ciel pulled it up, and after five minutes of endless exploring and profanity, turned it on. He clicked on the little internet icon, and started to explore online.
Just for entertainment, he went thr
The Intimacy of StrangersThe Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority is a colorful, veined spider extending its legs across 3,249 square miles. It carries a daily population of 1.3 million citizens, mainly commuters from the suburbs, and tourists visiting the city. This writhing hub is broken up into six different systems: the screeching, grubby subway, swerving buses heaving exhaust fumes, the commuter rail carrying nine-to-fivers, chugging back and forth from Providence to Boston, and the lesser-known The Ride and MBTA Boat. The MBTA is the fifth largest transportation system in the country, and it’s easy to see it as nothing more than a machine. And it is, in a way – a metal heart beating in the center of New England where the weather changes more than most people change underwear, an entanglement of railways, cable lines, and the famous dizzying Massachusetts rotaries – something that exists only for the purpose of carrying those 1.3 million people to their jobs and back again. It seemThe Intimacy of Strangers8 months ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
6 MonthsI sit here and all the memories flood back through me. It's been a while since I've visited this place, and now it stands here, abandoned. The see-saw is cracked and worn, the swing-set creaks loudly as it rocks back and forth on unsteady, rusty chains. The slide stands tall as ever, but sand and dirt has gathered by the edges.6 Months5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It's hard for me to believe this is where you and I first met. Everywhere I turn, I see nothing but the signs of shattered memories, promises that were never kept, and dreams that were never fulfilled. It's been so long since I've last been here. It's been so long since anyone has been here.
Stupidly enough, I say your name out loud. Some part of me is wishing you would answer me. I know it isn't likely, but it was worth a shot. I listen to the breeze of the wind, and feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. Despite the rust that's collected all over this playground, the weather is great. If I had been with you today, we might be at the park nearby, flying the kit
Forever and Again1. Times Square is lit up with a million-watt dreams and he is drunk on being in the place he’d seen so many times on a screen but never in person. She hops up on a ledge and beckons him over. Grabbing his collar, she kisses him in front of her mother, the street, the whole of New York City. She is backlit, her skin glowing pink, then blue, then green. He wants to freeze this moment, stay here forever, just like that.Forever and Again1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
2. They are up in his small bedroom where no one else but him has ever been. They are wearing just their own bodies, their own skin and goosebumps and insecurities. He is suddenly very nervous, feeling as if he is sixteen all over again, but this time it is somehow different. But they are careful and slow and they whisper and she laughs at the strangeness of it all and he forgets why he was worried. It is the most right thing in the world.
3. “Wait,” she stops and tugs at his hand just outside the gate. “The moon is almost full tonight.” He g
RemoverRemover2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She decided a young woman like her had no business being imperfect. Impurities had to be expelled from her life, no matter the cost. An universal remover promised to be her savior. It lived up to its commercials, doing away with the stains that disgraced her floor and some of the walls.
Would domestic hygiene free her from being flawed? Doubtful. This product guaranteed to exterminate any kind of filth. Could it go beyond the material things? She rubbed the substance on her forehead, and conjured as many negative thoughts as possible. They were recalled, only to vanish from memory a second after.
Satisfied? Not quite. Even the good recollections had portions of impurity here and there. She wouldn't allow that, and began rubbing with furious abandon. There could not be a single mistake, not a lone wound, every hint of imperfection had to disappear ...
Her neighbor would make a visit later. No one answered the door.
Don't Let Go"Rich!"Don't Let Go4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There was nothing but silence around her. The air felt strangely...full. Oppressive, like it was pressing in on all sides, choking her. She could barely breathe.
"Rich! Oh God, oh God."
She didn't even recognize her own voice, it seemed foreign to her own ears. Each word spoken was muffled, drowned out by the heavy beat of her heart and her halting footsteps. Every step she took she had to struggle, pushing debris out of the way, sharp pieces of wood and metal scratching her legs as she walked. And she had been walking.
For so long.
She began to wonder if it was her hearing that was the problem, or if her voice was simply giving out. Her heart was growing louder every second. Every terrifying second.
Rich, Rich, oh please, please. Her throat was tearing itself apart, but she needed to find him. She wrapped her arms closer around herself. A piece of cracked, torn metal cut through her shoe and sliced into her foot. She fell. She braced hersel
Competitive IsolationThe building was fairly large. The window panes were already cracking, flakes of decaying brown-gold paint, a minorly washed feeling. But still, it was in a good state for an orphanage that had been for almost a hundred years. Connected from the building was another adjoining part, something they added to the first original building when they needed more room.Competitive Isolation4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
They had a courtyard, lush green grass that grew all around and surrounded the premise's, growing between the buildings that lead to the front and the back. During the winter the ground was layered in a white sheet of snow where the children would pile out and make snow men, play and engage in snowball fights. During the summer it was filled with running, tag games.
It was a sunny day. Most of the children and teens here were outside, having the sunlight beat down on top their heads, running around. Childish giggles audible from outside. Except this boy. He was small in stature, fitted in a dark blue shirt, long sleeved and knee
That Which We FindI don’t know what attracted me to the little antiques shop on 23rd. I’d seen it every day when I drove to work, and every day when I drove back, but I never stopped until one day in September.That Which We Find2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I stepped inside, the bell on the door tinkling quietly. A sort of old, musty smell hit my nose, which didn’t surprise me. A fine layer of dust covered almost everything in the store, and those special objects that weren’t dusted with grey were covered in tarps and blankets.
Trailing my finger over the top of a wooden bench, I wove my way between lamps and cabinets, looking for the proprietor.
“Hello?” I called. The echo of my voiced sounded way too loud in the quiet space. No one answered. “Hello?”
Nothing, not even a whisper. I rubbed my fingers together, and then wiped them on my jeans. I turned to leave.
Movement I saw out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned, half-expecting some withered old man to come out of the woodwork, but
Just another dayLet me tell you a little about the truck driver you just flipped off because he was passing another truck, and you had to cancel the cruise control and slow down until he completed the pass and moved back over. His truck is governed to 68 miles an hour, because the company he leases it from believes it keeps him and the public and the equipment safer. The truck he passed was probably running under 65 to conserve his fuel. You see, the best these trucks do for fuel economy is about 8 MPG. At almost $4.00 per gallon, well, you do the math. And yes, that driver pays for his own fuel. The load he's under needs to be 1014 miles from where he loaded in 2 days. And he cannot fudge his federally mandated driver log because he no longer does it on paper, he is logged electronically. He can drive 11 hours in a 14 hour period, then he must take a 10 hour break before resuming driving. And considering the shipper where he loaded held him up for 5 hours because they are understaffed, he now needs tJust another day4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
ExhaleI love the marks that a woman’s clothes leave on her body. I love the red indents and the proof of a long day before she even opens her mouth.Exhale5 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Tight socks circumventing ankle bones. A watch cutting a bit too tightly around a pulse. The alluringly simple bra straps; wire pressing up into the impossibly soft undersides of breasts; the cryptic clasp nestled between shoulder blades. The imprint of lace and elastic on the taut tender tendon of the inner thigh. The geography of jeans around the hips and trailing along the legs like railroad tracks. The line on her cheek from when she fell asleep on the bus home.
I love the luxurious sigh when it all puddles to the floor, shedding this artificial skin. Remnants of weariness leave whispers on the body.
And after all she has been through, she still comes to me and allows me to trace these whispers with my fingertips, eyes, lips. She doesn't cover herself and doesn't hide and lets me in.
We leave the lights on.
Laundry DayNaturally, all the dryers were full. Mr.Ling had a crappy ratio of washers to dryers and there was always a wait. But today I was in a hurry, and figured Id risk a few quarters on the machine at the end with the Out of Order sign on it.Laundry Day6 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
Stupid, yeah, a guaranteed loss of money but as I said, I was in a hurry. Maybe the durn thing was just slow or had a clogged filter. Worth a shot.
So I ignored the Out of Order sign and loaded my clothes, slotted the quarters and slammed them home. Was delighted when the orange light glowed and my clothes began their tumble. A hand on the glass detected warmth, too. Out of Order, my ass.
I sat back with a Discovery magazine and thumbed to the article on heavy nutrinos and missing dark matter. After a few minutes I glanced up to check my clothes and
The dryer was still a-tumblin, but instead of my jeans and t-shirts the thick glass fronted a swi
DodirPod limenom strehom naputenog stovarita nije bilo nikoga ko bi mu ukazao na visinu uloga, nikog da ga spreči da napravi tu poslednju greku. Gledano iz njegovog (pranjavog) ugla, to i nije bila greka. Zar je pogreno posegnuti za onim to eli?Dodir3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Upoznali su se ba tu, poslednjeg dana leta. Zaveden njenom zvonkom pesmom, zadrao se due nego to je nameravao. Čitave jeseni ga je uspavljivala i budila... Bila je sve to mu treba, ali neobično daleka, neuhvatljiva. "Samo pokai da me voli..." - traio je. "Nisam za tebe, veruj mi" - rekla je i nestala, ostavljajući mu tiinu. Nije imao snage da se pokrene.
Gluvi zimski dani trajali su kao deset večnosti, a onda se samo stvorila pred njim, u blistavoj haljini od duge, pleući na mladom prolećnom suncu. Kao da nikad nije ni odlazila. Nisu mu trebala objanjenja- bio je srećan. Provodio je dane dive
American GirlDear Maybe-Mama,American Girl11 months ago in Letters More Like This
I was not a mistake.
It’s strange to think that exactly half of my DNA comes from you, and yet we could pass each other on the street and not even recognize each other.
I’ve never really believed in searching for you, my biological family. I never asked my parents the heartbreaking questions that Hollywood makes small, blue-eyed orphans ask: “Why didn’t my real mother want me?” I’ve never believed in any of that, and I don’t expect that you’d want me to, anyway.
But if we ever did meet, what would we even say to each other? I don’t speak Chinese, and you probably don’t speak English. But, in case you’ve ever wondered about me, here’s a little about myself:
I look different now. When you last saw me, I weighed less than fifteen pounds and could fit inside of a kitchen sink when I needed a bath. But today I am 19 years old and I’m probably taller than you – the nutrition in America is dif
His Master, Fake. CielxSebbyHis master, fake.His Master, Fake. CielxSebby5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The exterior looks and feelings he had to portray sometimes made himself sick. So sick that the exterior became the interior, but rarely. Ciel held a proud position, one foot in front, a staff and an expressionless face. Although he only came to his butlers chest in height.
Besides his age, just close to puberty (but barely experiencing it), Ciel was a responsible and witty young man. His duty as the Earl he never failed, his respect for his Queen never slipped from his grips. Young Master Ciel Phantomhive was a controlled and a widely respected member of Great Britain. But if anyone were to find out, just how he truly felt, what he truly dealt, that was something that could never happen.
'Sebastian.' Ciel said blandly, holding out his arms for his robe to be slipped on by his butler.
'Yes, My Lord.' Sebastian smiled, his lips curved dramatically into almost a perfect 'v' shape- that smile and those piercing crimson eyes, were what Ciel craved for. Ci
Incantations and Deductions Chapter ElevenChapter ElevenIncantations and Deductions Chapter Eleven3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
John makes his way to the Great Hall trying not to feel too downhearted. The beginning of fifth year has so far not been great: seeing Sherlock has churned up feelings that he doesn't want to examine too closely and which hadn't put him in the best of moods. Then his meeting with the head of Gryffindor had just been...well, shitty.
"I understand your desire to be back with your friends John, but you must understand that you attacked a fellow student in the midst of one of your nightmares. Now, whilst your Healers tell me you're improving they cannot guarantee that you won't relapse."
Arguing, John had realised, would have been pointless. The housemistress had been sympathetic but stern. It was an important year for everyone of his age at Hogwarts: they needed no distractions, least of all from one of their friends waking them up every night, screaming at things that weren't really there. John supposes he should just consider this as another case of 'taking one for the te
PhasesPhases2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
With beauty may come happiness, but with happiness always comes beauty.
When's the last time you did something for the first time?
Must I pretend I'm someone else, for all time?
I don't understand how I can care this much, when you don't care at all.
If you can't handle me at my worst, you certainly can't handle me at my best.
All that matters is who you are and the choices you make; that is what makes you, you.
OneFour-year-old Prosper looked wide-eyed around the waiting room, nervous in spite of himself. His father had urged him to go play with the various toys scattered around the floor in the children's section, but he had refused to let go of his father's hand long enough to do so. Despite his father's assurances, Prosper's eyes were tearing up, and when his father tried baiting him into a game with the large lego blocks, he scooted down onto the floor and began halfheartedly putting together an shapeless lump of legos. After a few minutes of this, though, he toddled back to his father and tugged on his shirt. Without pausing, his father reached down and scooped Prosper up, knowing from previous experiences what Prosper had wanted.One5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Don't be so scared, Pros," his father said, chuckling softly at Prosper's tight clutch on his shirt, "we're just here to pick up Mummy and your new baby sister, there's nothing to cry about."
He reached up and wiped away a couple of tears that had slid down Prosp
There Stands the GrassDuring my youth, I frequently traveled the world, sightseeing in the most exotic places. Few people can boast about having visited far-off and unheard of lands such as Oman, Kosovo and Swaziland. Traveling and exploring different countries became a passion, one that I enjoyed doing to no end. My reasons for getting such unprecedented joy from seeing the deepest parts of the world are my own, but I can only imagine being anywhere aside from home would give me pleasure. I have visited countries that some men have never even heard of, not even in their wildest dreams, but of all the experiences I’ve had and of all the people I’ve met, there is one event that I will never forget.There Stands the Grass2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I was on a guided safari tour in Kenya, in the Hell’s Gate National Park, which received its name from the steep cliffs that opened up like a demon’s jaws. Was I wrong for going there in the first place? Well, no sane person should ever venture to a place called Hell’s Gate. I was wit
It's always been youIt has been one year, three months, and twenty-three days since the last time I saw you. I do not remember what it feels like to have your hands on my body. I do not remember what it feels like to not love you. I do not know which scares me more.It's always been you3 months ago in Emotional More Like This
When I last left you, autumn was descending on both of our continents, on both sides of our ocean. You cupped my face in your palms and pressed your mouth to mine like a prayer. Or perhaps it was a plea: Please don’t forget me. Please don’t forget this. Please wait for me. Please.
The security guards at the airport, already numb to the tear-stained cheeks of young girls, told me that I must have my hair out of my eyes so the cameras could recognize me.
I blinked and forced the corners of my lips upward. I did my best.
It is Christmastime now. The air is damp and the wind tears through the city. I am warm and safe here, but dreaming only of brimming arrival gates, and cars teeming down the wrong side of the highway, a