day-dreamer-101's avatar
Professional Procrastinator
144 Watchers45.9K Page Views726 Deviations
Everything.
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An Experience
She didn’t bother to put on shoes before stepping through the doorway, relishing the coolness of the damp pavement beneath her skin. She considered shoes a boundary, one meant to be crossed. Her bare feet carried her down from the front step to the grass below, greener from the constant water pouring from the sky. To most, rain was something to hide from. To her, it was something to experience. With no roof to serve as shelter, she was soaked within minutes in the downpour. Her hair clung to her neck and forehead, her dress hung limply around her legs; not an inch of her body was saved from the relentless shower. Yet she welcomed ever
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Keepsake
She allowed herself to step back for a moment. She stepped back, leaving her body as an empty shell so she could fly. So she could sleep on a cloud with the moon as her nightlight. So she could ride the waves of the wind and collect the stars as she went. When she returned, all was as it should be. Her extraordinary life was no longer extraordinary; mundane, as most lives are. Except, of course, for the stars filling her pockets; a keepsake and a reminder of her journey. She would keep them forever, pressed into the pages of her favourite books. They shined just as brightly as the stories inside them.
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Seasons
When the year began, the trees looked dead. They weren’t dead, of course, but with their bare branches stretching out against the grey, sunless sky, they sure looked like it. By January, everyone was done with the holiday season, and the noticeable lack of cheery lights and jingly music made everything look dull in comparison. It was like the magic of Christmas had disappeared overnight, forcing us back into our dreary, everyday lives. “You had your fun,” the season mocked. “Now, back to work!” When the kids shed their winter coats, the sun was warmer. The snow melted away as the rain returned, growing the grass
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One Part
He fiddled with his neck pillow, fluffing it and adjusting it before settling back into his seat. He closed his eyes for a moment, if that, before fiddling with the pillow again. He reached for the packet of gum tucked into the seat pocket, purchased from a stand in the airport. He fumbled with the packaging, dropping the first piece onto the floor, before he popped one into his mouth. He chewed it quickly and aggressively, so much so that his jaw quickly grew sore. He jerked back in his seat as the plane moved forwards, gaining speed quickly. He gripped the edges of his seat, so hard that his knuckles turned white and the tips of his fingers
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The Other Girl
I watched the prince dance from afar. He moved so gracefully, and why wouldn’t he? He was born into this life, full of balls and princesses and royalty. This was second nature to him. I shifted my focus to the grandly decorated walls, the marble columns, the high ceilings and brightly lit chandeliers. I grew up within the shadow of the palace, but this was my first time being inside. I suppose I should have considered myself lucky; lucky to be the same age as the prince, lucky to be given this opportunity to attend the annual ball. But maybe I would have been better off not knowing what the inside looked like. My eyes drifted back down
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To Fly
There is a story told among my people, a tale of a girl who fell in love with the land dwellers. Legend says that she sold her voice to the sea gods in exchange for legs, so that she may join them in their cities and villages—but that’s where the story ends. From there, people argue of the outcome; some say she fell in love, and married human royalty. Others insist that her plan backfired, and in her heartbreak her body was turned to sea foam. This debate is one that has been going on for centuries—and one that I have no interest in. She was foolish, that mermaid girl. The human world is disgusting and horrible, full of gree
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The Truth
The mirror was her enemy. It taunted her and mocked her, highlighting every imperfection and insecurity that plagued her mind at night. She tried to bargain with it, tried to compromise, but there was no solution. There could be no way to please both parties. So instead of peace, she settled for tolerance, and her eyes learned to drift away from the reflective surface. She began to accept that what she saw and what she believed in her heart was the truth. But one day, something strange happened. A person on the street—an acquaintance, a mere stranger—stopped her, and paid her a compliment before continuing on their way. It was thi
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Looking Up
When I was younger, I always stared at the ground. I watched every step I took, every spot of pavement that disappeared beneath the shadow of my foot. I took each step with precision, over and around every crack and imperfection in the cement. One two three, one two three…that’s how many strides I could take, in rhythm, within each individual square on the sidewalk. I counted them carefully. They were always exact. As I grew older, I began looking up. I found shapes in the clouds during the day—a mermaid here, an angel there, a strange creature that resembled something of a cross between a turtle and a dragon. Come night, my
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Her Life
When I woke up, I was living someone else’s life. My face was the same, as was my body, as was my voice, but the life that surrounded me was as unrecognizable as that of a stranger’s. My parents would not speak as much as one word to each other, my friends didn’t give me so much as a second glance, and I found myself following a routine that I hadn’t created. I went to sleep that night with an aching heart. I was homesick, despite the fact that I was in my own bed, surrounded by my own room in my own house. While these things belonged to me, they weren’t really mine. ~~ When I woke up, I was back in my own body.
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See all
Everything.
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Sunrise
The boy was born from the land. His body emerged from the depths of the cold earth, his breath borrowed from the wind, the colour of his eyes as green as the leaves that sprouted up around him. His skin was brown like the bark of the trees that raised him. They spoke to him, and he understood as easily as a son understands his father. The girl was born from the sky. Her skin was as pale as the moonlight, her hair as black as the darkest night. Her body was formed by the stars—just like the ones who spoke to her, gossiping and giggling over the actions of the humans below. Humans like the son of the Earth, who often stared up at the star
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Singing
She was singing again. She sang every morning. I heard her sing when I was eating breakfast, as I was heading out the door for class...I even heard her through the loud pounding of the water when I was having a shower. The walls of a college dorm are not very thick. I knew this when I applied to live here, and when I wheeled in my two bulging, crammed-to-the-point-of-exploding suitcases into the building on move in day. I shouldn’t have been surprised when, the morning after my first night in my room, I was awoken by the sound of my neighbour singing along to Let It Go from that new Disney movie. But I was. I was surprised, I was cau
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Princess
There was a girl, once; a girl with long flowing hair, rich brown like chocolate, and captivating eyes that turned from blue to green and back again, depending on the light. Her smile as sweet as candy, her clothes bright as the sun. She caught the eye of anyone who saw her; the boys gazed at her in awe, while the girls stared on in jealousy. People called her a princess, and while her blood may not have been blue, she had a tendency to agree. This fact did not appease the green eyed ladies surrounding her, and a day would come when they acted on their negative emotions. Words sticky in malice were thrown towards her, sharp claws scratched at
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Leave a Message
Please leave a message at the tone.    Hi, it’s me.    Wait, do you know who “me” is? People say it on TV a lot. I thought maybe it’d sound more casual, more friendly. Maybe I was wrong.    Hold on. Let me start again. ~~ Please leave a message at the tone.    Hi, it’s me again. Shoot, I mean—it’s Chloe. My name is Chloe. It’s me, Chloe.    God, that was awful. ~~ Please leave a message at the tone.    Hey, it’s Chloe.    Wait, does “hey” sound better than “hi”? “Hey” sounds more casual, I think.    But wait. You don’t even know
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Ink
Pens were her thing. Gell pens, quil pens, ball point pens, black pens, blue pens, sparkly pens, pens that looked professional and pens that looked like they were retrieved as a prize in a cereal box. She collected all pens of all sizes. She had more pens than one could use in a lifetime. She made a point to use each pen at least once, but never let them die. Before the beautiful ink could fade away, she would tuck it safely among the others, moving on to a new colour, a new brand, a new texture. She had plenty to choose from; she was never lacking. She wrote with her pens, and she drew with her pens. Her pens formed stories that reached the
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Dear Santa
Dear Santa, My name is Emily Harris. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? My Christmas list this year is different. There are no unicorns, pretty dolls with pretty dresses, or iPods mentioned. In fact, I don’t think any of these things can be wrapped—which is a little unorthodox, isn’t it? I hope that’s okay. For Christmas this year, I would like: - A gentle snowfall on the 25th of December; I want to share the beauty with everyone. - A warm meal delivered to the man I see at the park every day; I don’t think he gets those very often - A steady job for the woman next door; she deserves it, I think. - And
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Holiday Retail
I hate Christmas. How can I not, really, when the scratchy PA system is blaring Christmas carols louder than it should be, threatening to blow the speakers at any moment? How can I not, when seemingly everyone within a twenty mile radius has left the majority of their Christmas shopping until December freaking 23rd, and somehow have fallen under the misguided impression that I am to blame? Working retail is bad enough. Retail during the holidays? I’d rather saw off my arm and cook it for Christmas dinner. “I have a coupon!” one woman screams at me. “That coupon expired yesterday,” I try to explain to her, for wha
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Just a Dream
She awoke with a start; heart pounding, sweat dabbing at her forehead, breath coming out in short, uneven gasps. It was just a dream, she thought. It’s always just a dream. It was never just a dream. It was 2:16 in the morning. Across town, young adults were still partying. Even if the pounding beat of the clubs died down and the bouncers kicked them out, they would carry on, the smell of alcohol following them faithfully around town. In her own neighbourhood, the streets were quiet. Filled with families and elderly couples, each house had turned in for the night. The lights were dark, the inhabitants sleeping and dreaming peacefully. P
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They Won't Hurt Us
"EEEEK!" "What?! What's wrong?" "There's a spider in the bathroom!" "A spider?" "YES!" "And...?" "Go kill it!" "Me? YOU go kill it!" "No way! I'm not going anywhere near it!" "Oh, come on." "YOU come on! I'm not setting one more foot in that room until it's dead and gone!" "It won't hurt you." "GO KILL IT." "Alright, alright, fine..." ~~ "BILLY! You almost got yourself killed!" "Did not!" "Did too! Mom told you not to go where the humans could see you!" "They're not ALL bad!" "They came after you with a shoe!" "Just these ones! The ones who USED to live here didn't care." "That's a lie! They moved to the house next door."
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Spotlight

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Leave a Message
Please leave a message at the tone.    Hi, it’s me.    Wait, do you know who “me” is? People say it on TV a lot. I thought maybe it’d sound more casual, more friendly. Maybe I was wrong.    Hold on. Let me start again. ~~ Please leave a message at the tone.    Hi, it’s me again. Shoot, I mean—it’s Chloe. My name is Chloe. It’s me, Chloe.    God, that was awful. ~~ Please leave a message at the tone.    Hey, it’s Chloe.    Wait, does “hey” sound better than “hi”? “Hey” sounds more casual, I think.    But wait. You don’t even know
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September 2, 1994
Canada
Deviant for 10 years
Hello (and Goodbye?)
Hi! So, obviously, I don't really use deviantART anymore. I log on from time to time to follow certain artists, but as a social media platform it's mostly something I've outgrown. I've had this profile for a very long time, and so for that reason I've been reluctant to let it go. The end of an era, a new chapter in life, blah blah blah. But now I feel comfortable leaving it behind in favour of focusing on other platforms, many of which I use more frequently and which are better suited to the work I want to do. My profile will stick around for as long as the internet exists; I just won't be posting anything new here! If you wish to follow me
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I don't do much on here anymore but I still return every Llama badge I receive like it's 2010.
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My summer is gonna be better than yours~
(Wow I have like no good journal skins installed. I spent like 5 solid minutes picking one.) OKAY SO there's still a lot of radio silence over here lmao sorry (but on the plus side I'm overly active on Twitter so like that's a thing). I'm basically just popping on by to tell you something really cool and exciting: I landed a sweet summer gig for a multinational company that will have me working in Florida for three months! Did Florida give it away, or was that too vague? Let me clarify: I'm going to be working in Walt Disney World. Once more, for the people in the back: I got a job in freaking Disney World. Basically I'm participating in
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Comments5K

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pandity's avatar
Thanks so much for the points! Have a lovely day!   Spread More Love Emote - PLZHug 
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day-dreamer-101's avatar
No problem!
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Vanillaflavor's avatar
Vanillaflavor|Student General Artist
Thank you for the donation and have a wonderful day!Flower 
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day-dreamer-101's avatar
You're welcome!
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I-see-no-Bottle's avatar
I-see-no-Bottle|Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for the point
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day-dreamer-101's avatar
np!
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myozies's avatar
Thanks for the donation! o3o
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