Look behind you.
"Are you okay?"
Shapes, forms, bodies, animals, plants
Shifting, moving, being
"What's wrong with you?"
You're a freak.
No one wants you.
You should kill yourself, let them out of their misery
Or we'll do the job for you.
"They're fake, you know."
No they're not.
"What are you doing?"
This is how I live.
Save me, from the monsters, the shadows
"What can I do?"
You can stop.
You can stop being ignorant
Dear Adult Me.Dear adult me,Dear Adult Me.3 years ago in Teen More Like This
I'm tucking this letter safely inside your favorite copy of 'The Dragonlance Series', where I'm sure you're going to find it. Page 241--your page. This book should be worn and weathered by now. I say 'should', because I'm frantically hoping that you're still reading it; because people change and you--we--are no exception.
So, dear future self, it's definitely been a while since I last thought of you. The truth is, I'm afraid to. All those hopeless and overly irrelevant dreams I have right now are probably just a fade memory in your mind. Some of them you probably accomplished. Some others you probably don't even remember; not that I blame you, you probably thought that those ambitions were too ridiculous to realize.
Did you finally manage to publish your book? This may sound funny to you, but right now, publishing our book sounds like an amazing and generally possible idea. Maybe, as time passed, the thought started becoming more and more untenable and, consequently, you
A Conversation and a CorpseTitle: A Conversation and a CorpseA Conversation and a Corpse3 years ago in Crossovers Contest More Like This
Universes (Crossover): Batman and Neil Gaiman's Sandman
Rating: PG (to be safe)
Warnings: Angst, a corpse
Author's Note: Batman's natural desire to help has unforeseen consequences. This is my entry for the Crossover Contest, and my first crossover.
The copse lay amidst the alley clutter, unmoving, while the first spots of rain splattered on his Armani suit. The night buried him in shadows, the distant streetlights barely illuminating him. Thin rivulets of blood, black in the weak light, pasted down a few graying tufts of hair. His head bent backwards at an angle no living person could achieve. Knowing the futility of it, Batman still reached over and checked for a pulse.
Looking at the dead never got any easier. It was ugly, no matter how peaceful the passing may have been. Yet still, Batman crouched besides the unmoving form, gently closing the man's eyes. The rain pattered against his hood and cape while he stood his silent vi
Dear Teen MeDear Teen Me,Dear Teen Me3 years ago in Adult More Like This
This letter will come off as a really odd in many ways. Your first thought might be, "Why the hell does this chick sound British?" Well, it's something that I have grown into, something that you will grow into when you reach twenty. But that doesn't matter right now, I have written this letter and sent it to you to enlighten you. You may not believe me. Maybe you will. That is completely your choice.
So, you're fifteen now, while I'm currently twenty-one. Wow, that's far away. You would actually be surprised how fast time has gone by. It's slow to you now because you're still young. You haven't even lived a quarter of your life yet. Believe me, time will go by fast if you don't pay attention.
Around this time, you went through a terrible break up with the boy you currently think is the one for you while you're dating some guy you met on the internet. Yeah, you think he'll make the pain go away. He won't and I will tell you that your relationship with internet
Dear Daddy's GirlDear Naive 15,Dear Daddy's Girl3 years ago in Adult More Like This
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 wi