Trade MistakesOh god.
I roll my eyes. It's my friend. I know she means well, but it's annoying when people care too much sometimes.
"You need a job."
There is one problem with her suggestion. I already have a job. It's from when I wake up to when I fall asleep and it's called feeling sorry for myself. Yeah, it's a pretty demanding job. The hours are shit and so is the pay, but I am part of a million people strong network. Some people do it part time, others full time.
I work full time.
"I'll get one," I tell them. They mean well and I love them dearly, really. I mean if i loved myself as much as I loved them I would be the most concieted person on the planet. I love them that much. Maybe my love for them will pull me out of this rut and I ckinda hope it does.
Actually I'm kinda relying on that love.
Full time, kinda like my job. I think I mostly depend on their love though. When I really think about it. I need their appraisal. I need their smiles. I need the way they say 'it's ok
Anna MollySometimes I want to believe I'm different.
I brush shoulders with some girls from my school and they scoff. Did she just touch me? They're disgusted. Why? Why are they disgusted? I have the same anatomy as them. I just look different. They all look the same, like manufactured barbies that try too hard.
And physically I am.
I make my way past the different cliques and I wonder: how exactly do they look at me? Do they look at me like the barbies do? I can hear my feet, like a metronome. Clack, clack, clack. Or rather squeak, squeak, squeak because I'm wearing some worn out boots and the floor is wet.
I have never been a part of them. The cliques. I've always been alone. Yeah, I guess alone is a good word for it. I perfer self isolation. I think I gave up on humanity somewhere along the line. People were so selfish and so was I. I wanted to much more. I wanted to be different.
I was. Just not in the way I wanted to be.
I cross my arms like I'm holding up a shield because I'm starti
With A BangI don't think I'd ever meet anyone quite like her if she'd died that night.
She's sketching. I'm looking over her schoulder because I'm curious. I'm always curious when she'd doing something. It's always something incredible and fantastic and beautiful. She doubts these words when she hears them.
She's using red now. It's not bright red, or brick red, which is this weird orange-red that's just bullshit, it's this pretty scarlet red. Whatever she's drawing must be bleeding or blossoming and quite frankly it looks like both.
She's dyed her hair again. It's the same color as the crayola she's using. Her red hair goes in every which direction. It bobs with the way she moves and it expresses her firey soul which is quickly burning out. It's smoldering and I'm kind trying to bring it back to life, but it's hard.
I don't know if I can save her.
I really hope I can because it's such bullshit that someone who use to shine as bright as her is still so blinding as she's goin' out.
Let. Me. In.I put your work in my folder called home, because that's where you belong; in my heart, inside my home.
I think I found her"Who are you?"
It was a question uttered out loud in a disbelieving voice and it was a good question. Who was I? Why am I here? Who had I been? My eyes fell from her's and I kept asking myself. Was there an answer? A true answer? Not one of those cracker box answers that only gave a boring description. I couldn't give her one that was exciting either because I knew that was a lie.
"I don't know," I finally answered as I lift my gaze to see her. She looks familiar. Maybe I knew her once? She smiles at me for a brief moment and we look away. "You gonna be okay?" she asks, after a moment of hestitance of course.
"Yeah, I think so."
We share that mutual smile and I wipe at the mirror. "Good pep talk," I tell myself and she smiles again. I had lost her in a bottle of something bad. "Talk to you later?" She gives a slight bouncy nod like she's expecting me later and I smile to myself.
"I think I found her."
Game of WarI watch as the little boys play war in the front lawn of my friend's lavish summer home. Their mock sounds of pain set me on edge. A violent clash of toys imitate bombs and send the players sprawling a mere inch back, fingers and toes still intact.
Slowly I watch the little soliders seperate. The boys of today find their enemies of tommorrow in an almost indiscriminate way. "You're the bad guy!" August's boy proclaims and Martin's boy shoots back, "Why do I gotta be the bad guy!"
"Because you're the bad guy! Stop being such a baby!"
Their game is black and white. Bad is bad. Good is good. There is no detailing or shade of grey. No space for doubt in the war they play a part of. I scoff for war is no game. I can leave my home a hero possibly today and find myself to be my own enemy tommorrow for every bullet chamber I emptied into some unfortunate man's chest.
"Time for dinner!"
The little soliders march into my friend's blood money estate. I pretend to forget the game for war and all t
Black and White TragedyThe angel offered a forced smile at her reflection in the piano. It morphed slowly to show her a frown and she touched her face. No smile. She was losing her head again. Her eyes turned to the keys. Black and white. They were so simple in contrast to her reflection, vivid colors against the polished body of the piano.
Angel bowed her head respectfully as she looked down to look at her hands. They lay so gently on the keys. She took a deep inhale and closed her eyes. She pressed the first key. Off. A little too high. Her brows furrowed as continued to clink her way through the notes until she found what she was looking for.
A soft. Tadume. A noise she couldn’t describe with words or even a hum. Angel smiled a little as she tapped out a tune. Gentle and melancholy in nature and suddenly she stopped.
Her mouth opened hesitantly. What would she sing? Angel’s eyes opened and she could see Michael’s picture sitting on the piano. No care in the world. Just a big smile and bi
I was someone onceI was being born in reverse. Every nick and scratch that once made me, me, was gone. The memories. The people. Gone. I was freshly confused by my existence and instead of being conceived as a babe in my mother's womb I was born a young adult; stripped of personality but not of my worldly knowledge. Being left void of who I was made me cry out to the ears that would listen.
AK: Trumped (Haruki x Damien Crack)He got it.
The best idea ever.
Currently, it was 4 a.m. in the morning, a time where Haruki would usually bang his head against the wall-anything to get him back to sleep again. But it was all good. For now at least, he would probably be cranky and a douche for the next 10 hours-but that was fine. His ears twitched with excitement. The plan was great albeit a bit painful for himself. No pain no gain after all. This would surely scar him for life. He cackled maniacally (in his head of course) before snuggling underneath the covers. He would carry out his genius plan tomorrow.
"Honey pie~" Haruki cooed, a brilliant smile on his face. Damien's ears twitched at the endearment and wondered who deserved to be called such a horrifying thing, by him no less. Haruki frowned before trying again. "Damien-chan~"
The dog almost fell out of his chair.
Wait. He did.
Groaning, Damien pulled himself up, his face pale.
"What the he-"
Haruki grinned sweetly, tail swishing. "Darling, good mo
I'm not Giving up on YouIt had been awhile since Hiro had had any dreams about memories of the past with Tadashi, but he didn't mind them too much, because they gave him a purpose to feel happy like Tadashi was still with him in some way. But tonight for some reason when he went to sleep he began to dream about a past memory of him and Tadashi together, and how his big brother helped him so well that night.
It had been almost a year and a half before Tadashi had died. They had gone out to see a concert together, and then he took Hiro to watch some bot fights because he kept insisting on it. They were starting to walk home after the bot fights were over. "Did you see how that guy totally crushed the other guy's bot! man! maybe one day I'll be as good as that!" Hiro exclaimed excitedly. Tadashi just gave a chuckle. "Don't push it kid! you still have a way to go first!" Tadashi laughed. Hiro shrugged. "I guess your right". The boys laughed together as they began to cross the street.
Hiro was in front of Tadashi,
The Best Thing About MondaysThe best thing about Mondays is the anxiety that floods into my body, starting at my feet and slowly rising up into my guts, my chest, my throat. It drowns me.
I wake up when it's still dark outside, and I rub the troubled sleep from my eyes with tired hands. I leave the warmth of my bed to face the cold day ahead of me.
The best thing about Mondays is waiting for my eyes to adjust to the morning gloom as they focus on old scrapbooks and half-finished novels I've lost interest in reading. I'm slowly removing myself from my own life.
I get dressed in the dark, hair falling in messy tangles down my back. As I sling my bag over my shoulder, my glasses fall down the bridge of my nose, but I can't bring myself to care.
The best thing about Mondays is when I step outside my building and the chill in the air is enough for my breath to be seen and for goosebumps to rise in waves over my skin. My mind tells me it's cold, but I feel no difference in my bones.
The best thing about Mondays is clim
His First (one shot) The child screeched late that night. The tired couple moaned from lack of sleep.
This wasn't the first time
"Jase, please go put her to sleep..."
" It's your turn..." Jase rolled on his side away from his wife.
" Jase," she muffled from her pillow. " I've been changing dirty diapers for weeks. You can put her to sleep..."
The child screamed louder.
Jase sighed heavily and threw himself out of bed. He glanced at the time and groaned. It was too early for this. He strolled into his daughters room, right outside of his own, and let his eyes adjust to the new environment. The child squirmed in her bed, reaching for anything that would hold her.
" Elizabeth... Hey..." The young father walked to his daughters craddle and swooped her up gently in his arms.
She was a miracle.
Next to marring the woman of his dreams, his little girl was the only spark of hope. She was precious to him.
He rocked his baby girls gently in his arms, singing
Be PatientOne day asked his mother.
"Mother, where is father going?"
The mother Replied
"Father has a very important project to do.....
Be patient he'll come back"
3 months have past after this conversation and it was the child's birthday
"Mother, isn't father coming for my birthday?" said the child.
"Father's project had been extended, so wasn't able to come...
Be patient he'll come back."
4 months have past after this conversation and the child's mother was acting strange.
The child asked his grandmother
"Grandma, why is mother dressed in black?"
The grandmother replied
" Your mother is going to a very exclusive party...
Be patient she'll come back."
5 months have past after this conversation and it was Christmas eve
"Grandma isn't mother going to celebrate Christmas with us?"
The Grandmother Replied.
"Your mother went off to help your father with his project...
Be patient they'll come back"
6 months have past after this conversation and the child is still patient.
The grandmother called out t
I Love you so, so Much it HurtsHiro never liked being trapped in small spaces, and he never liked the idea of being alone in small spaces either. Luckily Tadashi was always the one to help him out. He knew that Hiro was embarrassed by his morbid fear of small spaces. So he kept it quiet to keep Hiro happy. Luckily on a day like today Hiro had Tadashi to be there for him when it came to his claustrophobia. They were leaving the university one day after Tadashi had shown him some new stuff that he was working on. The boys then entered the elevator and began to head up.
However the elevator gave out halfway up and the boys found themselves trapped inside. "Oh my God! were stuck!" Hiro stuttered as he started clutching the wall in fear. "No! no we can't be stuck! I don't wanna be stuck in here! we need to get out! it's too cramped in here! and the walls are closing in! and why does it feel so hot in here?!" Hiro started to fumble with his sweater feeling sweat pouring down his face.
"And.. and.. and!" Hiro couldn't spea
Golden Rule: Scarred MessageGolden Rule: Scarred Message
"Hey Ashni." Spoke Seiko as Ashni turned to him. He was holding a piece of mail that was dipped in brown. There was a red seal on it. Ashni blinked as Seiko continued "Here's to you, my queen." "Thank... you?" Ashni asked, blinking again. Seiko took it as an excuse and exited out of Ashni's room. She looked at the mail before her and blinked. She shouldn't have received any mail at this time of day. She glanced around at the room before allowing her right paw to open the flap of the mail. Releasing it from its prison, she took out the black piece of paper. She blinked again and raised her eyebrow. "This... wasn't expected." She wondered as she stood up. Walking across the room, she came across her own dipping paint and a group of clippers hanged above her.
She dipped the black paper into the paint and took it out. The drops of white dripped underneath as Ashni wiped the paper with her paw and hanged it up using one of the clippers. She gave
A Day at Dennys“You know, I could have just have just as easily made pancakes at home,” Kaiden grumbled. The older man was hunched over into a sulk, his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his skinny jeans. Parker, his younger brother, glared at him in response.
“Yeah, you could have, but your cooking taste like ass,” Parker said flatly. Kaiden was about to protest when he was lightly punched in the arm by his friend. Trevor was more easygoing than Kaiden; totally on board with the idea of going out for breakfast instead of eating Kaiden’s inedible home cooking.
“He’s right,” Trevor mused in a sing-song voice, “it does taste like ass.”
“But what else would food from an ass-hole taste like?” Parker interjected.
“Oh my God, shut up.” While Kaiden was failing to defend himself, the three nerds approached the large mustard colored building that loomed over a small parking lot. The smell of cheap
Bullshit"I'm sorry that you're such a bullshit excuse for a human," I mused as I tried to eat my food. The girl across from me looks at me like she's fuckin' Bambi or some shit. "You're bullshit baby, all nice and full of it. You suck at art, you suck at fucking and you suck at life." Amused I watch her cry and I don't really feel anything because I can't. What happened to me? Why am I like this? "You're disgusting," I tell her, "Go fucking clean yourself up." I roll my eyes and leave my half-empty plate. I swear to God I use to be a good person. Then again I don't believe in that bullshit either.