Still the Same Girl (first Draft)The Abyss was tempting again tonight. Just a few steps away from Bell-mère's grave it called Nami to take a final rest, too. Let go, It whispered. You gave so much already. Nami was as weary as an old sail hanging limply in the wind. No fierce wind could fill her with joy again, it all seeped through the holes that had been torn into her.
“You're still the same girl.” Nojiko had told her. She couldn't have been more wrong. The girl that was Nami had died along with her mother as Arlong had shot her. Just when Nami had finally been ready to call Bell-mère by that name. Mother. And Nami had died again when she was forced to work for Arlong's crew. The flag that killed her mother forever stitched into her arm as an irremovable stain of sin. And then maybe a third time, as she told the other villagers and was shunned for betraying her own mother. She withheld the real reason why she did so, didn't want to share the burden. She had thought s
Dear Daddy's GirlDear Naive 15,Dear Daddy's Girl2 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
GalactusTo whomever finds meGalactus3 years ago in Literature Entries More Like This
I fear I have held something from you and from the galaxy, for many a year. As you all know I am the last of my kin and as I am approaching the end of my life, I feel it is appropriate to tell you the truth.
Back when I was Galan in the year 27π it was the morn of the seventeenth moon. I was no older than nine, a number which, said to represent satisfaction, brought only sorrow. The sun had set with a smooth sky yet there was a disconcerting air of the cavern. The only woman who ever loved me was resting peacefully, with child, upon the chaise longue, the fire kissing her toes with the sweetest crackling sound. The suns upper corona was casting its final rays, illuminating her tired face.
As her chest gently rose, a hoarse braying came from within the barn, followed by a consenting uproar from the other animals. I rushed out to tame the mounting pandemonium emanating from the farmyard. The barn doors had burst open. Shards lay across the drive. Ebbs soa
You CanThe tears fell quicker than a summer thunderstorm; they hit her faster than the lightning that scared her as a child. It called to her, the sound of death and sang it's lulling song but she would not hear it. Covering her ears like a child would when something disagreeable is said to them she slid down the wall, weeping uncontrollably.You Can6 years ago in Think Pink III More Like This
It couldn't happen. No, no, no. It couldn't. The words fell from her trembling lips into silent lakes and rivers on her callous, wooden floors. She shifted her weight, now dragging her numb legs to her body and holding them to her chest. Her sobs were heavy and weighted in the damp, morning air; she struggled to breathe in the oxygen she so wish to force out.
Time became a wonderland of snow and ice, spring and flowers--a mix of two vastly different concepts that, somehow, made sense. The ragged breathing, that came from her shaking form heaved with each exhale, morphed into quick tiny breaths of frustration. It shouldn't have happen
Dear Teen MeDear Teen Me,Dear Teen Me2 years ago in Adult More Like This
Too often, we lean toward writing to the general audience. I've rewritten this very letter at least three times, and had to scrap it each time because it did not accomplish what it needs to accomplish. It needs to be a letter to you, not to every teenage girl in America. It needs to speak to your heart, your dreams, and your faults. It needs to be about you.
Since we were able to comprehend compassion, we've used it as a shield to avoid ourselves. We've sympathized with the plights of the starving in Asia, the trafficked in India, the raped and tortured in Sudan and Burma. We've given to the Red Cross on behalf of hurricane and earthquake victims. We've spent hours coaxing the mentally ill out of suicide, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. We've given everything we have trying to help others. And it is noble and just and right and selfless to the point of being unhealthy.
You are a person, too. You need time and attention and care and space just as much as the
The Worm and the EpiphanyAlas, the worm was blind. Making its way through fertile earth, never meeting a soul, not even its own. Not knowing kith or kin, it didn't seem to bother him as, day by day, he burrowed his tedious way through mulch and mire; heeding not the dark or the cold. Not needing to ask the question that never would tire because it never grew old. He was not simply "you" -- he was "it" who did not exist.The Worm and the Epiphany5 years ago in Fable Me This More Like This
So on and on, as often goes with a worm, it continued the clandestine tryst to turn the soil. It was what he had learned, or was born having known. Was he born -- and born to toil? -- flashed a thought in the dark. Had he not? He never thought to ask it before.
Then suddenly, the worm broke through the crust of ground! It squinted hard into a blinding light, and basked in the shade of a sunflower whose head bowed low with curiosity, and promptly doused the worm with a shower of dew. And
Dear Teen MeDear Teen Me,Dear Teen Me2 years ago in Adult More Like This
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 i
Dear Teen MeDear Teen Me2 years ago in Adult More Like This
Dear Teen Me,
You were an annoying brat and I'm glad I'm rid of you, and so is everyone else.
Without WarningIt cameWithout Warning4 years ago in Literature More Like This
All of a sudden
A vision, an omen
Of anguish and pain
A wasteland, grey landscape
All burnt down to ashes
Drowned in the dark
Then cities and people
Prey to the flames
Planes over their heads
Casting shadows of death
A celestial gift
Their uranium rain
Two eyes on the future,
Two eyes on the past
Sharing one same curse and fate:
Yesterday in flames
Tomorrow to ashes
Destruction and hate
Are all they can see
Lead but to one grave.