minifeminist's avatar
vgaer
9 Watchers3.8K Page Views10 Deviations
n
nonevents
just desperately begging for passage, let me in let me in I say to myself, won’t let myself in… I feel a little pretty when my hair is wet & I am clean/purity/perfect/nonexistent/tangible I find myself a little off (but maybe I’m a little on) and puberty is a cruel mistress (is it too much to ask for a little symmetry?) clean/pretty girls don’t masturbate and they don’t think about boys and girls and what they want to do with them or cry when they are naked because it hurts a little to face I’ve lost the power of sweet metaphors, of pretty turns of phrases and clever letters, all I’ve left is
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new year's revelations
 I rang in the new year with a typed-out version of the guttural scream of the fuck word I would have given had my entire family not been in the next room.  I asked permission from the moderator in the dA chatroom I was in, as all-capitals, violent cursing, and irrelevant shouting were generally not allowed.  The catharsis, however, seemed necessary.  I was having a shitty shit shithole of a night, and I needed somewhere to express it.  After this I returned to my family, played at having a fun night with Scrabble, thanking the stars for the concealing panes of my glasses, hiding tears. When it came time to go to bed around 3:00 AM, I could
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lemon-aide
the drink they gave us was made with real lemons according to a best guess which for me was usually second-rate but we drank heartily and I think they slipped a happiness drug in it because I never had such a great party before or since— god, what a pretty sun rising up behind our laughs couldn’t see so well but I felt warmth and our lost souls were pretty well in harmony, I mean, when you think about something like that— it’s not something so easy to achieve, a harmony of Souls as they might say,  I guess for just a few corporeal failures we did a pretty good job that one time coming together to maybe make somet
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feel just like a baby
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t
trying to be pretty
this is a quiet acknowledgement of running a hand over skin to see if it is soft and over a body to see if it is full and of measuring the size but more importantly the consistency of breasts and of taking close-ups at odd angles to trick the camera into believing someone is beautiful this is a quiet breaking of an unwritten rule to keep things silent that should not have to be silent to put on paper the things that happen behind closed curtain, under insulating cover.  to hide the moments of just trying to convince oneself of those words oft-touted by the overconfident, who are really just trying to convince themselves too:    
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f
finding an escape from the
just hard to find stability don’t know what’s a nightmare, and what’s just thoughts, swirling round my subconscious is out to get me can't stop my dreaming – it's not the storms and not the bleeding – it’s what people say and how they hurt me that haunts me,   hurts for the reality of it. i know: sleep will not save me – at least in waking hours i can feel myself breathing but there is always another nightmare waiting for me. questions i can’t answer and dreams i can’t make sense of just reaching reaching grabbing onto air wondering why why i can't grab hold of a cloud forget, i need
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a
always the bridesmaid
We invented symbolism; it’s only because we wish it that a flock of birds flying over Andrew Bird’s stage becomes not a coincidence but as a man in the crowd put it, birds who “heard their brother making music” It sounds pretty; oh so fated and karmic. But we’re not as special as we like to think, the universe doesn’t send events our way so we can marvel at their significance. Sometimes birds are just trying to get somewhere cooler for the summer. Some of us are always just supporting characters, there to provide comic relief or the darndest things that kids say or to get in the waay.  Necessary, but j
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murky the water
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city swampy
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the park
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the park
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city swampy
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murky the water
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a
always the bridesmaid
We invented symbolism; it’s only because we wish it that a flock of birds flying over Andrew Bird’s stage becomes not a coincidence but as a man in the crowd put it, birds who “heard their brother making music” It sounds pretty; oh so fated and karmic. But we’re not as special as we like to think, the universe doesn’t send events our way so we can marvel at their significance. Sometimes birds are just trying to get somewhere cooler for the summer. Some of us are always just supporting characters, there to provide comic relief or the darndest things that kids say or to get in the waay.  Necessary, but j
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f
finding an escape from the
just hard to find stability don’t know what’s a nightmare, and what’s just thoughts, swirling round my subconscious is out to get me can't stop my dreaming – it's not the storms and not the bleeding – it’s what people say and how they hurt me that haunts me,   hurts for the reality of it. i know: sleep will not save me – at least in waking hours i can feel myself breathing but there is always another nightmare waiting for me. questions i can’t answer and dreams i can’t make sense of just reaching reaching grabbing onto air wondering why why i can't grab hold of a cloud forget, i need
0
2
t
trying to be pretty
this is a quiet acknowledgement of running a hand over skin to see if it is soft and over a body to see if it is full and of measuring the size but more importantly the consistency of breasts and of taking close-ups at odd angles to trick the camera into believing someone is beautiful this is a quiet breaking of an unwritten rule to keep things silent that should not have to be silent to put on paper the things that happen behind closed curtain, under insulating cover.  to hide the moments of just trying to convince oneself of those words oft-touted by the overconfident, who are really just trying to convince themselves too:    
2
0
feel just like a baby
0
0
l
lemon-aide
the drink they gave us was made with real lemons according to a best guess which for me was usually second-rate but we drank heartily and I think they slipped a happiness drug in it because I never had such a great party before or since— god, what a pretty sun rising up behind our laughs couldn’t see so well but I felt warmth and our lost souls were pretty well in harmony, I mean, when you think about something like that— it’s not something so easy to achieve, a harmony of Souls as they might say,  I guess for just a few corporeal failures we did a pretty good job that one time coming together to maybe make somet
0
1
n
new year's revelations
 I rang in the new year with a typed-out version of the guttural scream of the fuck word I would have given had my entire family not been in the next room.  I asked permission from the moderator in the dA chatroom I was in, as all-capitals, violent cursing, and irrelevant shouting were generally not allowed.  The catharsis, however, seemed necessary.  I was having a shitty shit shithole of a night, and I needed somewhere to express it.  After this I returned to my family, played at having a fun night with Scrabble, thanking the stars for the concealing panes of my glasses, hiding tears. When it came time to go to bed around 3:00 AM, I could
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1
The Everything Show
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F
Far Away
Sometimes we grow up like this: gyroscopic, like sunflowers, our faces turning towards the sun.  And the sun is more than a ball of burning gas.  The sun is warm and bright and alive.  And we are warm and bright and alive. I am no bloom.  Wings do not rely on the kindness of strangers.  But sometimes they will tell you that people aren’t things you can own. They will tend to the flowers, they will lean into the garden, prune dead leaves and reshape innocent bushes.  Their sweat will drip into your faces, my glittering lilies, my lonely and cynical roses, and they will tell you how to come into your own.  They will say the wo
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When The Tough Fall In Love...
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NaNoWriMo Progress ... Week 1 is done
Total: 11,211 Goal: 50,000 Words Left: 38,789 Days Left: 21 Daily Goal: 1847 I PASSED MY GOAL FOR TODAY BEFORE THE DAY WAS TWO HOURS OLD. FUCK YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.
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NaNoWriMo Progress
Total: 3,315 Goal: 50,000 Words Left: 46,685 Days Left: 27 Daily Goal: 1729
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Online Pen Pals
So, I used to have several people with whom I regularly communicated online.  I miss this. Basically, if you want someone to talk with regularly, I'm not looking for anything creeptastic, I just want a friend from dA.  Give me your Google Talk, AIM, or Skype.
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Comments23

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leoraigarath's avatar
leoraigarath|Professional Writer
Hello :wave:

Just wanted to thank you for the follow, the comments and the caring. Thank you very much :hug:

What's up with you? Hope that everything's good at your side of the screen,

- Omri
( `leoraigarath )
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unfamiliar-faces's avatar
OMG. did you make it into southern division?
Reply  ·  
unfamiliar-faces's avatar
YAYY! i know caroline made it in too.
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minifeminist's avatar
yep! i hope we can go!
Reply  ·  
unfamiliar-faces's avatar
I DIDNT MAKE IT TO FINALS. WHOOT. emily and caroline did though.
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minifeminist's avatar
ooh, let me know who wins when finals happen.
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