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.
My Head Is Thor (SteveXTeenReaderXThor) OneShotAnother violent coughing fit erupted from the woman’s bathroom of the middle school. Steve cringed in response wanting to go in. His poor little baby girl was hacking her brains out and it killed him to know he couldn’t do anything. But rules like those preventing him from saving her were ones he couldn’t break. Being the gentlemen he was he wouldn’t enter the ladies facilities. He just couldn’t mentally do it, every time he tried his muscles would jam up and he wouldn’t be able to move. If only he was Tony, than he could go in easily with no guilt. Sadly, for this one situation he wasn’t. So he was forced to wait until she finished.
And when she did finally step out (F/N) looked like a zombie. Her face pale like she had seen a ghost and her eyes puffy and red. Steve almost expected his daughter to insect on going back to class denying that she was ill. However it seemed like the normal feisty (F/N) just wasn’t there. Instead she help her
Digital Hugs. I was going to end my life. I was gonna take a razor, and slide it deep into my wrists. But I was saved. By something so unbelievable, by someone so powerful. By someone I would never forget. They call him online thehero1, but I'll forever call him my savior..
**** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ****
Logging in to Savvy Nights online chat..
Connecting to a random stranger..
thehero1: What's up?
thehero1: Are you okay?
SaveMe: No, not at all.
thehero1: Can you tell me what's wrong?
SaveMe: What isn't?
thehero1: Me. If somethings bothering you, you should tell someone. Even a complete stranger can help.
SaveMe: Wow, sounds total cliche.
thehero1: Then humor me on your issues.
SaveMe: My father is hitting
Mechanid World - Brother NickYoung Nick Lopez scowled as he looked out his bedroom window, seeing the rain coming down in sheets with lightning and thunder accompanying it.
Hate it when it rains… I don’t get to play outside and it’s hard to get to bed with all the racket the thunder makes… Oi… Ridiculo.
He sighed as he leaned over to his night stand, picking up the book he had left there.
Might as well see what happens next… He grinned as he opened the book. Lead the way Frodo.
As he read on he heard a creek from the door to his room. He looked over and saw nothing. He shrugged, looking back at this book. Then he felt a tug on his blanket.
He looked down, his brown eyes meeting with pale amber ones. The eyes of his younger sister, Miranda… who looked on the brink of tears and was holding her stuffed helicopter close to her.
Nick got a worried look. “Hermana? What are you doing out of bed?” He asked as he slipped of his bed, knee
Mechanid World - ThanksgivingThanksgiving
Dusty and Ishani had been seeing each other more and more. Everyone could tell how happy the two racers were…Then the holidays came around…
Plans were made and before they knew it, Thanksgiving day would soon be upon them.
Both their families would be dining at Dusty’s parents home as per tradition and it was the biggest house out of all their family members. At least, big enough for all of their family members combined to eat together.
But prep work started the night before and Isaac volunteered himself, Ishani and Kali to help. When they arrived from their hotel, Lynn practically dragged the sibling to the kitchen.
“You three will be my saving grace. Isaac, I started the turkey brine yesterday, but I need you to get it cured as well with dry spices-” She paused, grabbing a few recipe cards and shoving them into his hands. “These are your assignments… Turkey needs to get rubbed down and popped in the fridge and I also
Lista de programas transmitidos por Venecity
Esto es todo el contenido que tendra mi canal venezolano de television ficticio: "Venecity"
Esto no es un horario,simplemente es un listado de los programas,peliculas y bloques que tendra este canal familiar.
Derbez en Cuando
El Chapulin Colorado
El Principe de Rap
Los Tres Chiflados
Agua Teen Hunger Force (solo en el horario nocturno)
Coraje el Perro Cobarde
Dragon Ball Z
Don Gato y su Pandilla
El Espectacular Hombre Araña
El Fantasma del Espacio de Costa a Costa (solo en el horario nocturno)
El Laboratorio de Dexter
El Nuevo Show del Pajaro Loco
El Oso Yogi
El Rancho del Pajaro Amarillo
El Show de la Pantera Rosa
El Show del Raton (Disney's House of Mouse)
Garfield y sus Amigos
Happy Tree Friends (solo en el horario nocturno)
Hi Hi Puffy Ami Yumi
Johnny Bravo (solo en el bloque de Cartoon Cartoons)
La Vaca y el Pollito (solo en el bloque de Cartoon Carto
El perro 2James P. Sullivan, se paseaba de un lado a otro de la sala, sin detener sus pasos pesados que resonaban a pesar la existencia de la alfombra debajo de él, emitiendo por momentos, suaves gruñidos amenazadores por la indecisión que vivía en ese instante.
Por unos segundos se detenía levantando la cabeza como si una idea llegara a su mente, para después reiniciar su camino negando suavemente con la cabeza y bajándola nuevamente, sin dejar de mover su cola de un lado a otro.
El pequeño Michael James Sullivan, se encontraba sentado en el sofá más grande y largo de todo el set de sillones que adornaban la sala, mismo que podía tener tres monstruos de tamaño media, cuatro o más de tamaño pequeño y a su madre cuando le daba por dormir en ese sofá, manteniendo las manos unidas al frente, colgando, y la mirada agachada, esperando que empezara en cualquier momento el regaño, o le jalara del pellejo del cuello par
“Come on, Gloria. It’ll look amazing, trust me.”
Gloria Winchester glared at her twin, narrowing her eyes. Couldn’t he tell she was never going to agree to his idiot plan?
“Please?” Sean asked again, pouting at her and clasping his hands together over his heart. Gloria found it hard to believe that he was older than her, even if only by a few minutes. He was acting like such a child.
“No,” Gloria told him flatly, looking him in the eyes seriously. Sean’s eyes were a pale silver- the mirror image of her own. They looked similar, both having pale skin, silver eyes, and thin bodies. They had the same well-defined cheekbones and boney shoulders, and on the occasion when Sean was angry, or Gloria was actually happy and smiling, their expressions were the same. It was almost like looking at herself in the
K9 Laboratories- Zadanie #1 BeatriceOtworzyłam oczy i spojrzałam na zegar zawieszony na ścianie.
Czemu mama mnie nie obudziła? Zwykle przychodzi mnie budzić punkt ósma.
Oh no tak, przecież od roku mieszkam sama. Jakoś nadal nie mogę przywyknąć.
Zwlekam się z łóżka i idę do kuchni. Jeśli można tak nazwać małe pomieszczenie, gdzie mieści się tylko stół, lodówka i raptem dwie szafki, a obecność więcej niż jednej osoby wywołuje okropną ciasnotę.
Po kilku minutach wracam do pokoju z kubkiem kakao i kanapkami z Nuttellą. Lepszego posiłku sobie nie wyobrażam.
Opadam na krzesło i odpalam laptopa. To jedna z niewielku rzeczy w tym mieszkaniu, które pochodzą z tego dziesięciolecia. Reszta to jakieś przestarzałe śmieci, weźmy na przykład meble w salonie czy w kuchni.
Jak zwykle po zalogowaniu urucham
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.