insatiablethere is a hungerinsatiable2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
stirring inside of me
I'm AlrightMy mom told me I should stop sleeping so late.I'm Alright2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It’s affecting my health.
Mum, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
I have too much I want to do before I die;
And too little time.
It’s arrogant to say, but I won’t be satisfied with just being good,
I want to be the best.
Pokémon Master of the world: It’s my destiny.
From a balcony, is the only time,
I hope you’ll look down on me.
I want to fight the demons in my head.
I mostly feel uncomfortable when I’m not working.
Writing, music, filming, whatever, it doesn’t matter;
I just need to keep myself busy,
Anything to stop me from picking up a gin bottle.
Mum, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
Fuck this health thing.
Mommy, I’m alright.
I just want you to be proud of me.
Are You Jealous? No! (Garry X Ib)Jealous?Are You Jealous? No! (Garry X Ib)3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"-just so cute! He always compliments me and everything, Garry!" Ib said, delighted.
Garry stared at her blankly and poked at the food he had made for them. He was suddenly not hungry anymore. When Ib started to talk about her "friend" (She was in fifth grade for God's sake! Didn't girls still think guys had cooties?) he suddenly felt uncomfortable. He wanted to go kill that boy for some odd reason... Weird. His stomach started churning at the thought of the young boy. He really had not done anything; he really did like Ib. But, in Garry's eyes, this boy was bad news.
Everytime Ib's parents could not pick her up from school, Garry would always vonlunteer. After the whole incident at the Art Gallery, Ib's parents trusted Garry enough to know he was not a pervert. Which was quite often, actually. Ib's parents quite a lot. They wanted the "fancy" life for Ib, is what they always told Ib. Ib did not seem to mind. If her parents worked more, she could see Garry more.
Sick and Twisted (One-Sided Garry X Ib)The world does not need people like me.Sick and Twisted (One-Sided Garry X Ib)3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"People like me" meaning people in love with someone nine years younger than you. What kind of sick person would fall in love with a child?
I have fallen for Ib.
I can not help myself, though. I love her.
She is beautiful and so silent and mysterious. I wonder what she thinks of every day. What emotions she hides behind those blood, red, emotionless eyes that she owns.
What does she feel?
I will never know.
I know it is wrong and sick and just forbidden in general.
I can not help myself.
She is caring, kind, and I know for a fact that she's a brave kid. She is not afraid of anything.
Well, not that I know of.
Her hair is beautiful. It flows perfectly. It falls to her shoulders and I know that she does not think she is pretty. I want to tell her she is beautiful and does not compare to anyone.
She does not think so. She thinks that Mary is way more beautiful.
Mary is beautiful.
Mary is a painting, though. She is supposed to be b
.tick tock, he says.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i am coming for you
and now i know
why they call it
Our Ambiguityone.Our Ambiguity6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He wears cargos and goes barefoot,
even though it's only March.
He asks his sister to shape his eyebrows
(she's better at it),
and hums to himself
while he smudges on eyeliner.
His nail polish is chipped
but he likes it that way.
After two hours of walking around shirtless,
he pulls his favourite t-shirt over his binder.
"I am here to make you question," and
"Pronouns just get in my way," and
"If you're confused, I
He writes his name in the fog on the bathroom mirror,
then writes a girl's name underneath it.
Then he wipes them both away,
and scrawls his favourite nickname instead.
.when her love left, it left.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the house empty
and she says
i hope one day it'll
come back to me,
cos i don't keep this shotgun
on my front porch for nothin'
Zuko's Hair: the SymbolismIt is a widespread and somewhat controversial theory that Zuko's changing hairstyles throughout the three seasons of Avatar: the Last Airbender are symbolic of the internal changes which he experiences over the course of that time. I personally support this theory.Zuko's Hair: the Symbolism5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Let's begin with the basics. I am going to explain the theory at its core in the simplest of terms, and then explain the thought process which led me to this theory.
When you see Season One Zuko, with his ponytail, what do you think? I'm willing to bet that you think "bad". You may deepen this label by throwing in such choice terms as "angry", "bitter", "hurting", "confused", "searching for answers", and the like, but on the surface, it's just "bad". Now let's skip ahead 63 episodes. We are now in season three, and Zuko has shaggy hair. When you see this Zuko, what do you think? You think "good". You may also think "changed", "redeemed", "honorable", "noble", or "forgiven", but basically what you think is "good".
Now I want
The Background Of EvangelionThe Background Of Evangelion10 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
I have spent a fair amount of time trying to understand the use of the "Sephirothic Sytem" and I have finally come to terms of it's use and origins.
There isn't a lot of information about it on the internet so this is an exceptional chance for you to know what it is (you never know..... I might come in handy one day)
The Sephirothic Sytem is part of the Jewish culture and religion but it has also links into Christianity and some of you might know that, Christianity is a descendant branch from Jewish religion (Jesus himself was Jewish).
The Sephirothic Sytrem is part of the "Kabbalah" and is in this case a diagram representing 10 circles, each containing a virtue of God (Kindness, Understanding, Loving, Honesty Bravery etc....) Each circle represents a "Sephiroth" (thus it's name "Sephirotic System"), a Planet and a Colour. I will explain later what a "Sephiroth" is. Each circle or Sephiroth is linked to 2 pathways called "Channels". The Circles are set in such a w
Dusty Blood - Chapter one Page OneCHAPTER ONE PAGE ONEDusty Blood - Chapter one Page One4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Temptress Woods was fatter and wider than any man made city. The land of the stubborn trees, where the roots held onto the earth with a grip of steel and brushed the skies with the top of their leaves. For a long time this was what I thought the entire world looked like, and that other people were just plotted and lost in the forest like us. I was not born in the depths of nature though, I had been born like any other child in a village far, far away from Temptress woods. But I was barely past one week old when we moved here that the idea of a village full of children sounded bizarre. I was not born like the others you see. I was different. Looked different.
My left eye had a grey metallic shine that reflects like a mirror where as my right eye was of amber gold, soft and withering like the crisp leaves in autumn. I didn't think anything was wrong with me until I met other children, but that wasn't until the age of nine. My twin sister, wh
predeterminationsthe music was over before it started.predeterminations2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
it was an earful of sound sent back to the womb: an idea we nurtured prematurely. we didn't have the slightest doubt that my body could be anything but growing soil. but the red flower pluming from this vessel was grown from pastures with a predetermined drought,
the strength of your fist and the tone of my bliss was exchanged for a mouthful of black tar from the doctor who dared to tell me that the secondhand smoke, the choked stanza of a poem on fertility i'd been carrying in my body turned the prospect of birth to the soil its worth was made from.
your features were stepping stones that guided me across the river and into this long string of a celestial forever, and home again
i close my eyes and we're back to evenings under lantern lights, poetry sprawled verbatim on the spooned out skin between my chest and my waist, the motherless space.
even clouds, in their flocked white adherence, are shepherdless. somewhere, dreams in glowing thick consis
Evangelion ReflectionEvangelion Reflection11 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
upon completion of the series alone:
validation. that's the one theme to evangelion. all throughout it's how and what people do to validate themselves. i know the thoughts, i used to hate myself as drew people around me to keep me from thinking that. when you have no love for yourself, you try to gather praise and love from others to fill that gap in your soul. there's always that blackness in the back of your mind that you try to ignore. you think that if you show love to others, as empty as that is, they will return that love and give you a reason to be. without that, you are nothing. without accomplishments you do nothing and no one cares about you. without the love of others there's no reason to live. i know that i love others to get it back. i am worthless, and as a result, i try to do my best at everything to gain respect and feel like i'm needed for something. if i feel like i'm helping someone, that gives me a reason for existence. without taking so much from everyone, i would
Old Habits -Ib+Oneshot-Garry flicked his smoked cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with his heel as he faintly heard the final school bell ring. He waited patiently as the students began flooding out the entrance gates, talking of how they were going to just waste their days away, as opposed to studying for tests or working on school projects. He exhaled the plume of smoke he had been holding back, and settled his hands into his pockets. It was just like every other day.Old Habits -Ib+Oneshot-3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Ever since their reunion after the art gallery, Garry made it a point to see Ib everyday. After school he would walk her home or to his house to help her study. If it were a weekend, the two of them would go to the cafe and have some macaroons and some drinks—juice for her, coffee for him. Then after that, they'd stop at Garry's apartment just to hang out and talk about random things. There was quite an age gap between the two, but Ib was Garry's best friend.
The aforementioned girl rounded the corner to the entrance, walking to
Depressioni swallow caPsulesDepression2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as i drown in a perpetual fLood
with my collection of rAzors
i drift out to Sea
into thE black.
the tHief of my heart
killEr of souls
and Lover of death
has dilaPidated my dreams
he sold me to Monsters
and watchEd them consume me.
Can We Just PretendHey...Can We Just Pretend2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Can we just pretend ?
Like we did when we were kids?
I can pretend to be strong
And use these twigs
To build a mansion for you
So large and beautiful
That you'll have everything you need.
I can pretend to be smart
And I'll teach you new things every day
Gently widening you eyes
To the world around you.
I can pretend to be a musician
Your own private concerto
Sing lullabies to you each night
With the few notes I know.
I can pretend to be funny
And have a witty criticism
For all the things you dislike
And sweetly teasing you
Till you gift me with your smile.
I can pretend be wise
Have an answer for all your problem
And advice that never fails.
I can pretend to be a cook
And delicately create
Mudpies for you to eat
As though they were gourmet meals.
I can pretend to be someone I'm not
Someone who's beautiful or amazing or kind
Someone who won't let you down
Someone who won't break your heart
Someone who can give you everything
You could ever want
or maybe it actually is.thisor maybe it actually is.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a love poem:
this is not about
me and how i hate
the way realism tastes.
this is about you.
this is about how you
are one too many shades arrogant,
how nearly every night you
try to forget that time has
left you behind. this is
about your laugh and the way it
whispers "i can't remember
what i was like before i
became this." and,
if i'm being honest, this is about
how i will never see your too
cocky for your own damn good grin that
makes me go weak in the knees.
this is about you
and how you're not real and how i wish
to god that i wasn't either.
Dancing With Whisky (JackSparrowxReader) One-ShotDancing With Whisky (JackSparrowxReader) One-Shot2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
It was unbearably hot on the Black Pearl. The sun’s rays made your skin fry like a fish on a skillet. Mmmm you could actually go for some fish right now. As you leaned against the railing of the ship, you closed your eyes and figured that you might as well get a tan while you were out here. The ship swayed gently from side to side as it kept on moving throughout the ocean. Thankfully the sea was calm in the afternoon and you didn’t have to worry about a wave bringing the entire ship and its crew down.
Even though you had been a pirate for almost your entire life, you were still a little nervous around the sea. The water was unpredictable. It could be purifying and be used for all sorts of remedies that witches had but it could also destroy and take out thousands of ships without a single breath. You had learned that the hard way when you watched from a castaway boat your parents fighting for their lives during a terrible storm.
The water giveth, and the water taketh.
Gone a Little RottenI don't know when it started.Gone a Little Rotten2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When I'd gone a little off.
When my mind had gotten twisted,
And bubbled like a broth.
I don't know when it happened,
When I'd gone a little green.
When I'd turned a little rotten;
And dreamed a rotten dream.
And I don't know why it happened,
But this I know to say;
Twenty-two are buried here,
But twenty-three today...
...Now then, why don't we find some place nice and quiet (^_^)
- Chen Yuan Wen, Broken World Series, 19th December 2013
You Said You Loved Me You said you loved me.You Said You Loved Me2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I was your first character.
I remember when you first submitted a picture of me onto the internet. You were so happy when you got a compliment on me. Granted, there weren’t many. You weren’t a popular artist. But that was alright, because even one or two positive comments motivated you to draw more.
I remember when you made a second character. His design wasn’t exactly the most original, like, I’ll admit it, my own design. But you were happy with his design. And seeing you happy made me happy as well.
After some more positive feedback, you made another character. She was a little stereotypical, a bit of a “Mary-Sue” if you will, but no one seemed to mind. Because you weren’t bothering anyone, and you were happy.
I’ll admit it. I got a little jealous when you paid attention to the other two characters, rather than I. But I got over it
I Don't Mean To Be Rude...But I am getting quite sick of your attitude.I Don't Mean To Be Rude...2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And if you think you are free of all guilt and suspicion.
I'm afraid, you will find, you are only in remission...
For I'll hunt you quietly, silent and slow.
And I'll wait till you slip, before I lay you low.
But when you're filled to the brim with fear; chasing the shadows away.
I'll appear inside your mirror--and I might come out to play...
...So tell me, do you fear me now?
-Chen Yuan Wen, 16th December 2013
if teen dreams were teen novelsthere was once a boy who had all the write words to sayif teen dreams were teen novels3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with all those fancy allegories, metaphors and similes
and antonyms of synonyms, like rails and snares and storms
and organs and trains and drums and hurricanes and
and she was only a girl with plain words, the kinds of things
that are only found in piles of papers and pens, books
she keeps where she sleeps,
that will only break when he leaves in the morning,
but she shares everything, like a boat shares a bard,
like a cigarette shares a lung, like a mouth shares other mouths,
like an artist shares her heart.
but there is a running in her heart:
not that type of beat she got when she was a little girl
and her favorite boy gives her a kiss on the cheek, but like when
he first shared his words with hers,
the kind of thing she gets only with naked skin,
and not like that kind of naked skin, naked, but before that
when she looks up and his eyes shine in that kind of way she thinks
might've happened when shakespeare was a teena
The GunslingerThe Gunslinger5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"You mean you ain't never heard of the Gunslinger?"
The bar was almost dead at this time of night, and the question seemed to echo around the room - emphasising the sudden silence, rather than masking it.
"No, boy, I ain't."
Only a handful of stragglers remained, the dregs of the evening clearing the dregs of their whiskeys. The lights shone dimly, and everything moved lethargically in the warm Texas night.
"Well I'll be. I thought everyone 'round here knew the story of the 'slinger'," said one of the stragglers a tall, skinny man wearing a pale cowboy hat. A battered guitar rested on his knee.
"I'm new in town."
They sat at the bar - the musician and the newcomer. The guitarist resumed a lazy melody across the treble strings.
"Oh really?" he drawled, fingers sliding slowly over the fretboard. "And how are y'all finding our little patch of dirt?"
"Whiskey's expensive. Women all look like men," the newcomer replied. "Music's terrible," he added, eying up the musician suspiciously