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JessicaThe sun shining brightly outside my window rouses me from my dreams. I stretch, my arms above my head, and try to fight the nausea that settles in the pit of my stomach. Another day, another 24 hours pretending to be something I'm not. The pain in my chest was tightly constricting, and was almost enough to make me never want to open my eyes again.
None the less, I dragged myself out of bed, standing up and stretching once more, forcing my eyes to open despite their protests at opening. I glanced down at my body with a sort of wistful hopefulness, and stiffled a groan; nothing had magically changed overnight. I didn't really expect anything different.
"Kylie?" I heard my mother call me from downstairs. I flinched slightly at the use of my birth name but forced a smile into my tone and called back down,
"Yeah, I'm up! Be down in just a second!" I reached into my dresser and pulled out my favorite pair of Wrangler jeans, slipping them on quickly over my boxers.
"Come into the kitchen, dea
Dealing With Demons“What can be more exciting than working with spuds?” my father asked me after graduation. I had just finished telling him I wanted to go to college. It was obvious he was perplexed, and obvious why. He never went to college, his father never went to college, and his grandfather never went to college. Most of the family had never even finished high school. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew for a fact I did not want to be a potato farmer. Mrs. Margaret, our school guidance counselor who was also our only English teacher, had me believing that there might be a better option. No, not better. Just different. And I desperately wanted different. Something beyond plowing the field, and harvesting potatoes for the rest of my life.
I always loved to write, so when my first English assignment was to interview a local person we considered a hero in our lives, I was beyond excided. But the only problem was I had no one to interview. I thought about intervi
Turn Back TimeThe last person I expected to see here was Luke. Don’t get me wrong; this wouldn’t change anything. This was still my job, and I was going to do it, with or without some snotty wanna-be rock star sitting at my bar. I was just going to march my way up there, relieve Lacey from duty, and take over mixing drinks until three a.m., like I always did on Tuesday night. Taking a controlled breath to calm my raging nerves, I walked up to the bar, refusing to look at the man with pitch black hair who’s eyes snapped to my figure as I turned the corner.
“Hey, you!” Lacey said, kissing my cheek in greeting, as she does every night. “I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to make it in. Traffic bad?” she asked. I shook my head.
“Car broke down.” I explained softly, careful not to let Luke overhear. Lacey’s eyes widened.
“You walked here?!” she exclaimed. I flinched and tried not to smile at her shocked, slightly mother
Addiction Chapter 1-AmandaAmanda
I would die for a cigarette, Amanda thought to herself, sitting in her senior English class, drumming her fingers nervously on her desk. She had managed to sneak three at lunch, and another two in between 5th and 6th period, but the urge to light up again burned strong in her veins. She shifted in her seat, uncrossed and then crossed again her legs, and glanced up at the clock on the wall. It had only been three minutes. She sighed aloud, and started to chew on her thumbnail, ignoring the teacher as he droned on about some book that the class was supposed to be reading. The Scarlet…something, she couldn’t remember right then. All she knew was she needed a cigarette, and badly.
You didn’t used to be such a cig whore, she mentally chastised herself as she glanced again at the clock that seemed to never move; only one minute had passed. She fought the urge to groan. It was true, it didn’t used to be this bad, but she knew she didn’t have a problem. Pe
Only YouNo one's ever made me feel as loved,
No one's ever made me feel as safe,
No one's ever made me feel worth it,
And then there's you.
You make me feel like the world,
Can't go on without me in it.
You make me feel like the universe,
Won't be right without my life.
You make me feel like the world is not worth seeing,
Without me by your side.
Can make me feel alive.
Nothing's ever mattered to me,
Until I met you that day.
And no one has ever meant so much,
As you have since that day.
And no one will ever understand me,
Quite like you do.
There's only you.
You make me feel like your life,
Is better because of me.
You make me feel like everything,
Will be alright if you're with me.
You make me feel like nothing else has meaning,
If you and I can't be.
Can make me feel this way.
Sometimes, we will scream and yell.
Sometimes, I'll put you through hell.
And sometimes, you'll drag me down after you,
Otherworldly LoveNo one before her noticed me,
And no one mattered since.
Whenever I needed her,
She was there in a pinch.
Her name mattered little,
And so she never gave it.
I ended up giving her one of my own,
And she poudly loved to say it.
She told me she was not from here,
And had to make it back.
But back to where, I never knew,
Assistance I did lack.
I did not wish to return her,
To that place beyond the stars,
The place she swore she came from;
I'd rather keep her in my arms.
I tried to dazzle and charm her,
Tried to keep her in with me.
But I knew deep down in my heart,
It wasn't meant to be.
Strange things began to happen,
To my lady love and me.
But despite her warnings to steer clear,
I wouldn't let her be.
I followed her one day,
To a clearing by the lake,
I sat with her in silence,
While she cried, more than I could take.
She told me where she came from,
Told me about her home.
Told me how much she wanted to return,
And I begged her not to go alone.
We ran together through the dark,
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
smotherher spine was dusk
and unmade nests,
but he tried to live there
he was neither nocturnal
nor a dawn-believer,
so he suffocated
in the birdhouse of her ribs.
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
Pieces of MemoriesWhat is it that causes,
A heart to break?
What is it that makes,
Risk free to take?
Do I miss you,
Or am I forelorn?
I'm not dissatisfied;
Why am I torn?
Your name rolls in my head,
Although I've long since moved on.
So what do I feel,
I'm missing out on?
My life is perfect,
Without you in it.
Let go of my heart;
You'll never win it.
My heart beats for someone,
True to the end.
Do I miss you as just a friend?
I know that you,
Truly hate me.
Is that you your memory,
Won't let me be?
I've got nothing to say,
And I know neither do you.
So I guess I'll go on and wonder,
If from time to time,
For no reason or rhyme,
Are you unable to help,
Thinking of me too?
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More