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That Volkai Guy
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The Index Card Paragraph 1

T

The Index Card Paragraph 1

It smells of oak, for that is what it is made of. When you sit in it and lean back into it, it makes a great, old creaking noise, such that you may become inclined to sit elsewhere as it sounds so like it is about to collapse. Those accustomed to the great oak chair know better, though. The chair has been long tested, and it will take worse than sitting to end this oak throne's career.
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Am I That Important?

A

Am I That Important?

I like to feel important, yes. When all I speak is lies, Everything I have is nothing, But please don't cast me aside. I like to feel needed, yes. Everybody does all the time. But sooner or later people will notice that all I am is lies and matter, Taking up space as each one of us does. I don't want to feel superior, though everyone thinks I do. One thing I forgot to tell them is that I know, they're just playing games with me just out of sheer spite. I don't like to brag and boast about things I've stolen from others' pasts. Anyone can do that, But can this one lie last? I need to lie I have to cheat    I must, or
4Comments

Clouds

C

Clouds

   The sky was blue, white, and dark grey, depending on where you looked.   "Ugh, the weather's turning ugly" he said, looking at the dark, heavy clouds.   "What are you, crazy? It's a beautiful day" she responded, basking in the light of the sun.   "The birds have stopped singing. Come on, let's go" he said, offering her a hand up.   "They usually do that this time of day, silly" she said as she pulled him down.   "Fine, fine, a little longer. Might as well enjoy the sun before it's hidden by teh clouds, I guess" he said, sprawling out beside her.   "That's the spirit." she responded. A short while passed, and he started feeling
11Comments
See all

Flow

F

Flow

As I sit, image of tranquility, my mind is a sea of chaos. A thousand tales, poems, songs; like quicksilver they come, to sublimate into others, then forgotten. Few last, written down; The rest are swept away, forgotten. A sea of creativity, yet few do last that come to me. Walking, eating, in class at home, they rocket through my mind. A thousand tales, poems, songs, each one shared with none but me. Some are boring, others sick. A few a thousand volumes thick. And yet few last, they are forgotten. They show themselves to none but me. A few I grab, to reel in; to share with others the tales within; to put to paper so to last, Yet t
5Comments

I write

I

I write

I write, without seeing I write, away from the concerns of the world I ramble on- why is it that those who could best use money are without, and the rich stress about things important to but a few? I write; away from grades, tests, or college apps I write. I write; without my glasses, my windows to the world, and all the joys and stresses therein I write. In a blurry room, I write. So much happens- life, success, war, strife- and it is all important. It is, every one, the most important thing. It is not important. Humanity is now. We have been for a hundred thousand years, and will be for a hundred thousand more. But the world has b
6Comments

Killing Myself

K

Killing Myself

I've been thinking of killing myself. Not of commiting suicide, but tearing out what's inside, ripping out what makes me 'me,' and making a new personality. The question is who should I be? If not me, who will I be? I do not know who to become, a soldier? Or a politician? Some nameless bloke out on the street? A programmer you'll never meet? A journalist out on the beat? What I do know is I'm not satisfied, with the life I lead stuck in first drive. The problem is the clutch is stuck, I can't get out of this oblivious muck. Perhaps, if I was not 'me,' I'd have better opportunities. so I could go, and make s
10Comments

Clouds

C

Clouds

   The sky was blue, white, and dark grey, depending on where you looked.   "Ugh, the weather's turning ugly" he said, looking at the dark, heavy clouds.   "What are you, crazy? It's a beautiful day" she responded, basking in the light of the sun.   "The birds have stopped singing. Come on, let's go" he said, offering her a hand up.   "They usually do that this time of day, silly" she said as she pulled him down.   "Fine, fine, a little longer. Might as well enjoy the sun before it's hidden by teh clouds, I guess" he said, sprawling out beside her.   "That's the spirit." she responded. A short while passed, and he started feeling
11Comments

Spotlight

Flow

F

Flow

As I sit, image of tranquility, my mind is a sea of chaos. A thousand tales, poems, songs; like quicksilver they come, to sublimate into others, then forgotten. Few last, written down; The rest are swept away, forgotten. A sea of creativity, yet few do last that come to me. Walking, eating, in class at home, they rocket through my mind. A thousand tales, poems, songs, each one shared with none but me. Some are boring, others sick. A few a thousand volumes thick. And yet few last, they are forgotten. They show themselves to none but me. A few I grab, to reel in; to share with others the tales within; to put to paper so to last, Yet t
5Comments

Spotlight

desktop June 2010

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Artist
Badges
Llama: Llamas are awesome! (6)
My Bio
Current Residence: MI
Favourite genre of music: Electronic
Shell of choice: Disconnect
Personal Quote: Don't take life too seriously, you can't get out of it alive.

Favourite Writers
Numerous
Favourite Games
Final Fantasy XI Online
Favourite Gaming Platform
SNES
Tools of the Trade
Pencil

Fun Fact

Fun Fact

I still function!
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Hello.

Hello.

Oh, hi there. What's up? Why don't you let me know what you all have been up to (in the comments section.)
0Comments

Devious Journal Entry

Devious Journal Entry

I live yet still.
1Comments

Comments 44

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ToxicJinxyHobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for the watch+ :3
No prob.
Eesh, I'm gone for a week and 50 deviations show up on my watch list. Y'all are busy artists.
LaifierrProfessional Traditional Artist
Thanks for the watch ^^
^^ thank you for the :+fav: ^^
What can I say? It's a good piece.
FewfewersStudent Traditional Artist
Hello random Deviant. :poke: