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Dear Naive 15,  

You're ignorant as Hell.

You dress in baggy blue jeans, wear an oversized hoodie every day, and never let your hair down. Students at school, and even your mom, think you're gay… and you don't even know.

All of your classmates blame you for a burn book that circulated after that Mean Girls movie. Everyone thinks you're a jealous bitch and secretly they mock you. How can you not see that?

Your teachers are all positive that you cut yourself and that you're always on drugs. Even now you have no idea why they ask you to take your jacket off during class. Could it be that you always wear long sleeves?

It's okay, sweetheart. I had to find out the hard way, too.

Right now you're probably wishing your dad was home. He's the only one that will read your stories and tell you how creative you are. You don't have to beg him to watch movies with you, and he'll listen to your favorite songs without calling you suicidal. Right now, living with your spiteful sister, emotional mother, and self-indulgent stepfather - you probably think your dad is the only one that loves you.

But he's not there, is he?

For some reason unbeknownst to you, he's serving his last few months of a 3-year prison sentence. He writes to you every day and reminds you that you're loved. Have you ever thought to ask, "Why he's there in the first place?" Even now I don't understand why it never occurred to you. When you're nineteen years old and your sister tells you that your Uncle Jerry passing away at the same time your father went to prison isn't a coincidence… you'll wonder why you never asked, too.

Pretty soon your sister will admit something else. Your father isn't the paragon you imagine. He cheated on mom. It's okay though, he still loves you. Right now he's probably making promises. He promised you, your sister, brothers, and your evil step-mother that he will never drink again. Here's the good news: when he gets out of prison you'll finally have someone to lean on. The bad? It's not going to last.

I'm sorry, sweetheart. He's never going to stop drinking. He'll drive your stepmother away and ruin his already broken home. I know it's hard to hear this, but it's his fault. For the next few years you're going to defend him. Everyone will talk down about him and say that he deserves everything he got. You're going to scream, rage, and deny what you cannot understand. But it's not your fault; I know now that he didn't tell you what he told everyone else.

Your brothers, even though they're younger than you, knew why he went to prison. Your siblings all knew that he cheated on your mother, and that the reason you never knew your grandfather was that he was a sex-offender. Even now I wonder, "Why didn't he tell you?"

I know you love him more than anything, Naive 15; but let me tell you what happened to Budding 18. I remember it fragmentally. You were in college and you were asking your dad for money for a tattoo. You decided to waste your scholarships on a private school and move five hours away from him. It was hard, but you were making friends who didn't know about the burn book and didn't care if you liked girls.

You were sitting in your dorm room with your favorite hoodie and your baggy blue jeans and your roommate was inquiring about your grin. Your dad promised to send you the money, but that's not why you were smiling. You smiled because you got to talk to Daddy.

The next day was probably one of your worst. You were sitting on the grass in the commons; everyone was dressed in purple and your best friend was painting a horned frog on your face for the upcoming football game. For once you felt loved by someone else.

And then your phone rang.

You didn't understand why your stepmother was calling you. She never called and you both mutually hated each other. But she had to be the one to tell you. The phone call lasted around two minutes.

"I told your dad to tell you. He was supposed to yesterday when he called. I'm sorry…" She's never said that and she'll never say it again, "Your dad's back in prison."

You cried. You screamed and begged to know, "Why he didn't tell you?" The very question you should have asked for eighteen years suddenly wouldn't shut up. You went home without finishing a single year of college. It's not your fault; you didn't understand.

You're going to think that he hated you. You're going to wonder why he couldn't tell you all of these things. You'll wish he loved you as much as he loved everyone else.

It was a hard lesson to learn.

But eventually, Naive 15,  you'll know the truth. You'll realize that even if you are gay, it's no one's business. When you find out that everyone blamed you for a burn book you didn't even know existed, you'll have a good laugh about it. And you'll enjoy revealing to your old friends that you've never touched drugs in your life, and a blade has never cut your skin purposefully.

But most importantly, you'll realize why Daddy didn't tell you.

You were the only one who truly loved him. And as Wizened 21 learned through a long night of talking and a few beers… he never meant to hurt you. He just wanted you to keep the image in your head of a father that sang lullabies from Disney movies, and could never hurt anyone...

- especially not you, Naive 15.

Yeah, you're ignorant as Hell - but that's why you're loved.

Sincerely,
Wizened 21
:new: MY SECOND DAILY DEVIATION!

:faint: It's been several months since I've been able to update, but HOLY SHIT, another DD! :squee:

Special thanks to TruthisTruth for suggesting me, and GrimFace242 for featuring me, and thank you for either :+fav:ing, commenting, or reading! :tighthug:

Honored 2 Have Gotten DD Stamp by Mirz123




:happybounce:

A letter to myself...



This is my entry for PinkyMcCoversong & Beccalicious' Dear Teen Me Contest, complete at 982 words.

Basically, you had to write a letter to your teen self. Like many teenagers, my teen self wasn't exactly happy. ^^; I loved my father - he was the most important person in my life. Throughout my childhood I couldn't help but feel... betrayed. Now that I'm older, however; I understand. :shrug:

Join the contest yourself or check out the website here. :tighthug:

:heart: OfOneSoul
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Dear Future Me,

I bet you weren't expecting a letter from your past self, were you?

Well, you probably were, considering we're the same person and
you'd have to know I was writing you a letter since you wrote it in the
past so I guess you know already what's in this letter, right? Do I even
need to write it? If I don't write it… will that set off a chain of events
that lead to the you who won't read this being someone completely different!?

I've watched 'Back to the Future' far too many times.

Well, I'm going to write it. I guess I can't offer you infinite insight
about your future since I'm writing forward as opposed to back, and I
don't know what the future is going to be like, but I want to reiterate
a couple of things for you that might be weathered by time.

Alrighty, for starters:

a) Zombies will always be awesome. Forever and always. Don't lose your love for the genre, buddy.

b) There's always time. When it comes to projects, the less of it you have, the better! Just, don't give up on something on the count that you feel there's no time for it. If it's important to you, you'll find the time.

c) Those people (they'll be new people in the future – the actors may change but the characters are the same) who tell you 'that's really reaching for the stars' in a condescending tone - don't pay them any mind. They can play it safe if that's what they want but you should give it a shot. Even if you fail you'll know you tried. No regrets, right?

d) You love rock'n'roll. I don't care what form of music appears in 2020 or 2030, no matter how mind blowing it may be – do not lose your love of the classics!


How old are you anyway? 25? 38?

Yes, I know I shouldn't know too much about the future – kind of eliminates the fun of not knowing – but I'm going to ask some stuff anyway.

1) How did you figure out what you wanted to do after school? I'm still pretty puzzled at the moment.

2) Did you dye your hair another colour? Please, please, please, please, pleaaaaaseeee, keep the blonde! I don't know what'd persuade you to lose it but DON'T. We've worked too hard for this!

3) And did you work things out with you-know-who in the end? I really hope so. Yeah, I'm still stuck on that. Some people aren't worth our time but unfortunately we won't find that out until we spend it on them. Hopefully we don't waste too many more hours on people who don't warrant it. Mm.


I hope you appreciate this, future self. It's hard enough writing to the future; I can't really say 'it'll all work out' cuz I don't know if it will.

You've got the better half of this pen-pal fiasco. You can just say, "Remember when you ____? Yeah don't worry about that" or, "You're gonna think ____'s a good idea, but trust me it's not." What can I say really? "Hang in there!"

Well, I have faith in you and I look forward to being you in time! I'm greatly anticipating it so don't let me down!

P.S. if you haven't already, give being a rock star a try maybe? I hear it's a good gig. Never hurts to have a go!

Best Wishes,

Your dear from another year,
Lisa ~ x
For this contest [link] which I thought was nifty idea! If you have something you'd like to say to future-you or teen-you, give it a go! :la::heart:

Couldn't write to my teen-self, cuz I am my teen-me haha. Hard enough writing to the future, you can't really say 'it'll all work out' cuz you don't know if it will. Just gotta keep on praying I guess :P :heart:

I think actually, it goes well with it's like the opposite!

Hope you like it! :) ~

---

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Dear Teen Me,


Yes, you there.

You in the horn-rimmed glasses in your stupid millwheel hat. You knew you’d look totally dumb wearing that to a carnival party, didn’t you? And now you sit there hating the music, hating the people who dragged you there, hating your hair, your figure, your baggy tapered jeans and most of all your glasses. Yes, I know all that. I remember the whole damn evening, when they seemed to play nothing but Salt’n’Pepa, Rozalla and KLF. What did you think they’d play, Paul McCartney, or Elvis Costello? What did you expect the boys would do – would they suddenly notice you with that millwheel hat when they never noticed you before? I bet they noticed the hat, I’ll give you that. It's probably one of the things that makes them give you such a wide berth. Who’d snog someone who looks as if she’s ten? And be honest, do you really want to have someone shoving his tongue past your tonsils, the way they’re doing it all around you? Bet the mineral water you are drinking doesn’t help the coolness factor one bit. And sorry to disappoint you, but Sprite with a shot of deKuyper isn’t that cool either.

And yet I remember this too – I remember that you walked home again that night, alone, but stubborn. I salute you for that and I’m proud of you. You told yourself if nobody had ever noticed you (read: fallen madly in love with you) they didn’t deserve you. You refused to adapt, refused to be who you didn’t want to be. You didn’t break into tears when they teased you for your glasses, at least not in public. You kept liking music and books and other things nobody else liked. You kept shouting for Bayer Leverkusen although boys were scared of girls with short hair and football scarves and the girls rolled their eyes at you. You kept reading books on Ancient Rome, telling yourself to get a grip on yourself, Hannibal had a worse time. You stoically stared in front of you when the other girls giggled, remembering last night’s telephone joke when they dared a guy to phone you up to say he wanted to date you. As if that idea was so incredibly outrageous that it passed for a joke all by itself.

Let me tell you something. I know our mother has already told you this, but maybe you’ll believe it coming from me.

It gets better.

A few years from now, they’ll re-invent boot-cut jeans, and baggy t-shirts will go out of fashion. You'll suddenly look slim and sexy in boot-cut jeans and fitting t-shirts. It's just that those eighties leftovers didn't suit you. (Did they suit anyone?)

Glasses will be cool. (And until they’re horn-rimmed again, there are nice and slender ones.) And you know those things people despise you for? Fantasy, Tolkien, football, Ancient History, art?

Suddenly, those things will make you interesting.

And that other thing Mum told you – she was right with that, too. Yes, it’s tough being seventeen and looking as if you’re ten. But let me tell you, it’s great fun being thirty-seven and looking as if you’re twenty-five. And those girls who played tricks on you and called you “Fatty Dumbo” for reasons known only to themselves? You’ll see their photos on “stayfriends” or Facebook and do double-takes before you recognize them.

So, yes, of course, you’ll have questions.

Yes, you will get through school. Easily. No, Maths won’t be your strong suit, but you have English and Latin to push your marks. And you will get through University just as easily. And yes, English and Latin teachers will be high in demand in the early 2000s.

Yes, a boy will notice you eventually. He’ll do more than notice you. He’ll marry you and you’ll have two gorgeous kids. But I haven’t told you the best yet: He plays D&D and reads Fantasy.

No, Crowded House won’t be around any more. But watch out for the rise of Britpop over the next few years.

Aaaah… I’d hoped you wouldn’t ask that. No, I'm sorry. Bayer Leverkusen will not win the league in the next twenty years either. I’m awfully sorry.

But you know… there’ll be more important things in life. Seriously.
A letter to Teen me? What a great idea!

Written for this contest: [link]
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My great-grandfather used to tell me, "Don't chase after dust bunnies because you'll only end up with a meerkat in your belly button." I never quite understood his advice until one St. Patrick's Day , I was gardening with my best friend Vanessa. All of a sudden, we found an underground tunnel! It was warty and spooky sounds came from deep within. Vanessa saw something interesting inside, jumped in, and I never saw her again. Great-granddaddy was right!
Happy 12th Birthday DA! :party: :cake:

I've been registered on you more than 8 of those years!
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Dear Adolescent Self,

I know, everything sucks and you don't want to hear from some lame-ass old person. Lame-ass old people try to tell you things like this all the time, but they're just stupid old people that can't possibly understand. You don't respect me because I'm not in a band, I don't have black hair, and I don't look awesome. I don't write screamey songs that speak to your weasley black soul, nor am I Tim Burton or Freddie Mercury. I get it, past self. I get it. Frankly, I don't want to hear things from me either most of the time. As lame as I may be, just hear me out for a minute.

There's this thing you should really, really try, and it's called being happy. No, I'm not high. Yes, this is really quite terrible and hokey. Shut up and stop judging me for a minute, I'm trying to help you, you little twonk. Also, start thinking of absurd insults now, it will help you in the long run.

As I was SAYING, you spend far too much time and effort on being miserable. Part of it is the hormones, some of it may be the asshats from public school I'm sure, but at the end of the day it's all on you. You choose to let things get to you. You choose to listen. You choose to associate with people that make you sad, you choose to bottle things up to cry about later. These are your decisions. You'd rather just sit around and draw vent drawings and think about suicide than look up and realize that your life rocks.

Sure there were a few bitches in public school that called you a fat nerd, but you have piles of friends that think you're awesome. When you get to be old and lame, you are going to realize that people that are just as weird as you really aren't so easy to come by, and yet right now you can't swing a cat without hitting at least five of them. You probably don't use the swing a cat saying yet, it'll come though, trust me. Regardless, relish your weird friends, cherish them, because most of them are going to move off and have kids far sooner than you think.

And for the love of God stop comparing your art to everyone elses. You suck it's true, I have looked through your stuff, but you can get better. That weirdness that people keep judging you for? That is an asset. Technical skill can be taught, but you have that fucked up mind you need to take the technical skills and really run with them. You can also crank out a page of comic in a day. I don't know how the hell you do that, but that is something you really should be faaaaaar more proud of than you are, and you shouldn't let people make you think there's something wrong with you for being so fast. I did, and I regret it like crazy. I can't even do that anymore, let alone come up with enough ideas to enable this, and I am thoroughly convinced that you must be some sort of robot wizard. You're really not a robot though, I know you had suspicions for a while there.

But I have to get to the real point now, otherwise I'll go on forever. If there is one thing you need to seriously know, it's this: Turns out you're not gay after all, but you might be a bit of a transvestite or something (I'll get back to you on that one). Almost everyone you know turns out to be though, and I know you'll be far too stuck in your own little world to see that coming. Especially since most of the girls you know apparently have wicked lady boners for you. I've talked to them since, they told me.

OKAY no that wasn't what I wanted to say. What I really want to say is that despite everything, there is nothing wrong with you. You don't need to be diagnosed, there is quite literally not a single abnormality in your headmeats. You may think there is because you think about suicide practically daily, but there really isn't. You're just really fucking negative and too lazy to actually face your issues head on. You come by it honestly, I'll give you that, but cut it out. Stop brooding and go hang out with your friends. Go outside, do something about the weight. Stop being so afraid to do anything. If you fuck up in public and people judge you, it's really not the end of the world. You don't know those people, and probably wouldn't like them anyway. You wear Halloween makeup on a daily basis anyway, so what do you think they're doing NOW you crazy fuckhead? Seriously though, just stop hating yourself because you think that what you are is some sort of effrontery to all common decency. You're not as smart as you think you are, granted, but you're not all that bad. Everyone doesn't secretly hate you. You just have to quit being so goddamn EMO. There, I said it. You're EMO, and it's ANNOYING. People who would otherwise like you think you're ANNOYING because you're so NEGATIVE. It's not a mental sickness, you're just a teenager. And the more you like yourself, the more other people are going to like you too, and the more you're just going to like everything and just plain being alive.

I'm still trying to pick up the pieces after you, you know. You made quite a mess of us, you silly little sod. Though I learned a little bit later than I would have liked, I could have done worse. There could have been an even older version of us writing about how much of an emo idiot I am too (there still might be yet). Luckily, I have all of your fuck-ups to look back on and learn from. I am going to do everything you didn't. I'm going to go out and talk to strangers, and if I feel like dancing in public I'm going to go for it, because I really don't care what people think like you do. I'm going to take what little smattering of friends I have left, and I'm going to cherish the fuck out of them. So hard. And I'm going to continue to make new ones, if I can, and I'll do the same to them. Because yes, I still have shitty days and yes, periodically I do still have to go collapse in a corner and mope over how much I fail as a human being, but it doesn't control my fucking life. It passes. I get over it, I go try and do things to rectify it.

So while sometimes when I find myself hating you for all these stupid, harmful idiosyncrasies I picked up while I was you, I can't really stay mad at you. You're just a kid, and really blaming you is just another way of taking the lazy way out. We're gonna work at this, kiddie, and we're gonna be alright.
This is sort of unpolished, spur of the moment crap.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. I didn't really bother making it formal or correct. If I can't be informal with myself, then who can I?
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One day, Truth and Falsehood met at an inn, both weary from their travels. "My old friend!" cried Truth, "Come, allow me to buy you a drink." So they drank and exchanged stories of their travels. As they talked, Envy walked into the inn. Upon seeing Truth and Falsehood, Envy grew jealous of their friendship. Envy decided to find a way to make them hate each other. Now, it so happened that Greed was staying at the same inn. Envy met with Greed to form a plan. "Look at those two," Envy hissed. "They can't be friends, they never agree on anything!" Greed was only half listening. Envy knew this, but was ready for it. "Of course," Envy said softly, "we need to stop it. It is unnatural, like a bird with no flight, or a fish that can't swim." At this, Envy pulled out a bag of gold coins. Greed's heart began to race, fingers itching to just grab the bag, to caress the gold with loving fingertips. Envy smirked triumphantly, the plan was working perfectly. "Now, this is what's going to happen," Envy explained. "You are going to start spreading rumours about Truth and Falsehood, make up anything, so long as you turn them against each other. In exchange, I will give you this bag of gold.", shaking the bag, causing the coins to jingle invitingly, as clear as the loveliest music. Greed, of course, immediately agreed. However, Loyalty overheard the conversation, and told Truth and Falsehood. Wisdom, the owner of the inn, decided the best thing was to make Envy and Greed leave the inn, and to never come back. Envy, fuming, and Greed, ashamed, left the inn. The other innkeepers heard what had happened, and wouldn't allow them into their inns. They could only wander, forced to remember what they had done with every closed door they faced.

Never spread rumours and don't let greed cloud your judgement.
An entry for the Fable Me This contest. It was sooo hard not writing anything gender specific (his, her, etc.)!!! All comments and critique are welcome xD

'Like' my Facebook page! [link] :dummy:

*edit*

Fixed a sentence that didn't sound quite right and a few grammatical errors :aww:
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Oh man, I'm so happy...I thought I wasn't going to be able to enter because I waited too long to apply to be a part of the film community :iconpapcryplz:
special thanks to $namenotrequired for helping me with my issues uploading this!

So, in my Digital Media class we had to create an animation as one of our projects.
Considering it met all the requirements for the Train Your Brain contest, I figured, "Why not enter?"

This is my first animation ever...so there's a LOT I can work on.

Sorry the music is kind of crummy, I have absolutely NO experience with writing music whatsoever.
But the animation is just kind of sad and lonely without a little bit of sound, so I created a small original piece on garage band.

In my opinion, the story can be interpreted in at least two different ways. Hope y'all like it!

Art created in PSCS5
Animated in AECS5
Music created in Garage Band
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My great-grandfather used to tell me, "Don't chase after cupcakes because you'll only end up with a pigeon in your big toe." I never quite understood his advice until one Christmas, I was gardening with my best friend Alice. All of a sudden, we found an underground tunnel! It was bright and spooky sounds came from deep within. Alice saw something interesting inside, jumped in, and I never saw her again. Great-granddaddy was right!
Hehe contest entry for dA 12th birthday celebrations!
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this is my entry to "evil vs good" contest ! the message is that evil and good are always balanced even if they are opposite to each other !
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Since Christmas eve, 2007: Every night, before I fall asleep, I can't get rid of the feeling that someone's watching me while I sleep. I don't know what the hell it is, I can't figure out its shape, I don't wan't to see its ugly face when I open my eyes. I can feel its cold, shadowy hands trying to grasp me in my sleep. It only comes out from the dark corners of my room: the ceiling, the floor, the second bottom bed, basically anything's shadow.

Oh my God! Please be morning already! I don't want it to get me!

Do not steal my artwork ;-;

--b00m!
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