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About Deviant Persistence is her weapon.Female/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 11 Years
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Literature
Something Better.
When I was little, I wanted to be big.
I wanted to be... everything.
I wanted to be a ninja, famous for mastering martial arts within a matter of days. I wanted to be an astronaut so that I could reach out of my spaceship and touch a little star. I wanted to drink the secrets of life from the Big Dipper. I wanted to be a cowgirl and chase off that one kid—William, or something, wasn't it? I wanted to be able to talk to the horses. I wanted to be a wizard (before Harry Potter ever did) and be best friends with Merlin. If I couldn't be the wizard, I wanted to be a knight, even though only boys become knights.
I wanted to be a firefighter because I wanted to show the Christians that Hell does not last (but that was only until I began to fear fire). I wanted to be a police officer for the high-speed chases; I wanted to be a lawyer for the chance to say, "I object!" I wanted to be a doctor because I like helping people.
I wanted to be a pilot because, before heights scared me, t
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Literature
Under A Strain.
My bones keep cracking.
Why won't you help me out?
Unbelievable...
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Literature
Icicle.
You may be naïve
enough to believe
that these hostile words are for you:
They are.
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Literature
I am Coming.
Whenever I don't know what to write about, I wait for it to start raining and I write little messages in the fog on my windows.
One gray, misty morning, I awoke and went downstairs to find a message already inscribed into the glass of the window that was embedded within the front door.
Let's play.
I'm waiting.
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Literature
where the moon cries.
With your eyes, too,
the autumn leaves promised me
a happy life with you.
Was this to be so, or was I deceived
by the chill of a new winter?
Am I to be yours, or to be trapped
within the claws of a monster?
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Literature
Boys with Duct Tape.
There are certain things
you should not say at all; some,
you should be saying.
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Literature
v. sixteen months
Before you came to bed at three o' clock in the morning, I left another note on your pillow.
It's the 29th of our second December.
All I want for our sixteenth month is you. Trust me.
I love you.
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Literature
iiii. love bites
I ended up not writing that letter because it made me cry once I had written it all out, so I ended up not leaving it on your pillow before I ended up not sleeping in the bathtub so that you wouldn't have to share a bed with a pitiful child that still throws her shoes in the corner when she gets pissed. Instead, I crumpled the paper up into a ball, and I burned it the way you burned your belt the night before, but instead of throwing pretty dust on it to smother it, I let it burn and burn and burn and burn and burn, until it was nothing but ash on the carpet. Then I started crying because I felt alone and because you were so fucking stubborn and I'm so fucking stubborn and I couldn't help and because you didn't know how to tell me how to help and there were ashes on the fucking floor and I didn't know how to get that out of the carpet and I was scared you would get angry with me for letting it burn there because I was never good at housecleaning or impressing you.
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Literature
iii. problematic
The next night, you refused to talk to me again, and you wouldn't even tell me why, but I figured from the rainclouds in your eyes that you were sad again and just didn't want to be bothered, like what usually happens with you anymore. So I went upstairs to your room, and I picked up these pages from where I had set them on your desk, looked through the words I had written so far, and I decided that those words and every word that came after them were going to be about you. They were going to be about you and me, in my own metaphorical, parallel universe-sort of way.
These words, love, are about you and me, written by my own subconscious, bitter wit, and you don't know it yet, but I'm planning to write you a letter that is going to hurt your feelings, and it'll hurt my feelings, and it will hurt everyone because I'll be hurting myself when I write it out, and it's going to go something like this:
If I'm not doing a good job in rebirthing that bright, beautiful smile of yours,
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Literature
ii. animals
Two days later, you pulled us away from the eyes of the sunset and purred in my ear, "Let's make up." You ripped your belt out from its loops and set flame to it and threw it off the bed as though rejecting the bite of a snake, and you held me in your arms so that my spine was aligned with the warm center of your chest, and we watched the fire devour the leather you normally would have used to whip me on the ass in order to make me call you "Master" and you whispered against my neck that you wouldn't hurt me with it this time and I sighed in relief because I believed you, and it felt so good to believe you, and I leaned back into you and I said, "That's nice..."
You tossed a handful of cinnamon and sand and flour at the little fire then, and it began to die smoke die some more choke cough splutter cough cough cough scream gasp fizzle wheeze and then it disappeared and there was nothing left, and you pushed me onto my back and cornered me into the pillows on your bed and your eyes turne
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Literature
i. teenage angst
There was a dangerous raincloud in the gray backdrop of your eyes when you hissed embers through your teeth: "Go away." I bled because of it, but suddenly bleeding felt good, so I grabbed the art blade that whispers tempting things to me during the lonely Texas nights, and I bled again. I've already started, I thought, so I might as well finish, might as well, just a little more and I'll be fine, and I bled on top of the other two. Intersecting the lines hurt, but I bled again anyway, and again, and again and again and again and again and again, until there was a large, bright, red flower blooming on my shoulder, and I watched with the tired, enthralled eyes of a child on imposter-Santa's lap as the flower's stem and its roots began to unfurl in calligraphic strokes down my pale arm, and they sank and filled into the spaces between my fingers—just like you once joked you would for me—and the flower held my hand, the way you do when we're lying awake together at sunset in your
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Literature
S'just a vent.
I'm sorry. Okay? I'm fucking sorry. I'm so very fucking sorry.
All I wanted was to live a happy life once I had found Tyler—as happiest as I could while I was far away, and to the happiest I could when I was close to him again. That was all that I wanted. But then I had to go and fuck that up, didn't I? I had to complain to him about how my mother had snapped at me at the airport when I had begun to break down in public, because he was scared, because I wanted to come back to Vegas, back to my home, and she didn't care. She just got mad. I had to complain about that. And then she got angrier, demanded to see my phone, and what should she find but an insult towards her... and it's all my fault.
So now I'm paying the ultimate price, right? I'm on restrictions when it comes to talking to Tyler—when it comes to being with Tyler! And this is supposed to be fair, right?
That's supposed to be justice for what we did, right?
Well, fuck. That's all I can say anymo
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Literature
Jeff's Pep Talk.
The blood on his hands
was the reason that I
began to scream, jammed my
fingers into my hair and
began to scream and cry.
"WHAT THE HELL AM I
SUPPOSED TO DO? WHAT AM
I SUPPOSED TO DO ANYMORE?"
As I sank to my
knees and sobbed uncontrollably, he
growled and grabbed my shirt
with his bloodstained fingers and
pulled me so close that
I could smell the anger
on his breath. He locked
his caramel-red eyes with mine
and glared fiercely into my
gaze, and then he said,
"You're going to keep fighting.
We are going to keep
fighting, because that boy means
more than this entire world
to us, and you damn
well know it, Brat. So,
keep crying, keep screaming, that's
just fine with me—but
you better be doing it
while you're shoving your damn
foot up these fools' asses!
Do you understand me, now?"
I automatically nodded: I knew
he was right. There was
no other option for us.
We had to keep fighting,
for the boy we loved
more than anything in the
entire world, in the entire
universe. I still felt wea
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Literature
Letter to Santa - 2008.
Dear Santa,
All I want for Christmas is to be with my boy again. That's it. That's the only thing I want. I don't care about the cameras or the computers or the books or the art supplies, or even the headphones or the flowers or the chocolate or the stuffed animals. All I want for Christmas is to be with Tyler, because I love him more than anything, and I miss him really, really bad right now.
I only want to have him with me forever because I love him. I want to be with him because he makes me happy, even if we do have our little "tiffs" (see, we haven't actually fought yet, so we call our little aggravations something like that). No relationship is without its little flaws, right? Right. Tyler is the one thing in my life that I have left to live for, the one thing in my life that is worth living for. My parents all say that makes me dependent on him, but there's a difference between being in love and dependent, I say. That makes sense, doesn't it? It has to, because I un
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Literature
Distance, Sir, Will Not.
Baby, it's not goodbye,
though the taste of it's against your lips,
and though some melancholy rain
drips
and drops outside,
I promise that I love you, and will till I've up and died.
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The Spirit King. by Mistress-Inu The Spirit King. :iconmistress-inu:Mistress-Inu 2 0

Favourites

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Wishlist

Auratus of Carassius by trenchmaker Auratus of Carassius :icontrenchmaker:trenchmaker 2,542 187 Way of silence by zardo Way of silence :iconzardo:zardo 1,188 273 The Kitten Kiss by leenaraven The Kitten Kiss :iconleenaraven:leenaraven 8,259 1,079 Fuzz Academy - The Massacre by mree Fuzz Academy - The Massacre :iconmree:mree 11,361 1,303 T Shirt - UGLY CHICKEN by Fax-Grimmin T Shirt - UGLY CHICKEN :iconfax-grimmin:Fax-Grimmin 180 30 Moon dragon Print version by Blacklotuscomic Moon dragon Print version :iconblacklotuscomic:Blacklotuscomic 262 36 No matter by Fax-Grimmin No matter :iconfax-grimmin:Fax-Grimmin 281 26 Synapses by JoeGalaxy Synapses :iconjoegalaxy:JoeGalaxy 109 60

Activity


deviantID

Mistress-Inu
Persistence is her weapon.
United States
Current Residence: Too far from the arms of my love.
deviantWEAR sizing preference: It varies. I mostly prefer baggy, though.
Print preference: Matte.
Favourite genre of music: Various.
Favourite style of art: Realism/Anime mixed, which dear Nana pulls off nicely.
Operating System: Windows Vista.
MP3 player of choice: Windows Media Player.
Skin of choice: Tyler's~ Hahaha.
Personal Quote: "Back off."
Interests
  • Listening to: DBZ soundtracks.
  • Reading: My IM with Tai.
  • Watching: I /wish/ it was Dragonball Z.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention:
I'm on Facebook now.
If you've got one, look up Shelbs Mrgn to find me and drop me a message.

Comments


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:iconbytail:
bytail Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2010   Digital Artist
*noms on*
Reply
:iconmayhemmanicx:
MayhemManicX Featured By Owner Jun 26, 2009
The King of Pop just died ! it made me think of you! dont ask why :\ i just miss you!!!! :la:
Reply
:iconxxthehatterxx:
xXTheHatterXx Featured By Owner Apr 21, 2009  Student
Miss you mistress mine
Reply
:iconcookieka:
Cookieka Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2009
Miss you Rei. ):
Reply
:iconpolicide:
Policide Featured By Owner Mar 1, 2009  Hobbyist General Artist
I mees you. :c
Reply
:iconmayhemmanicx:
MayhemManicX Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2009
wait i should have read the journal first ...allright hun , i hope you doo come back in this lifetime , please note me as soon as you return!
Reply
:iconmayhemmanicx:
MayhemManicX Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2009
long time no talky , you allright , whats new ?
Reply
:iconaki-hikari:
Aki-Hikari Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2009  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I'm wondering a lil' why you're fave-ing things on this account, but okay~

Thank you. ^.^
Reply
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