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.
Her First Plushie-Daddy!T.Makoto x Mommy!ReaderHER FIRST PLUSHIE (Daddy!Tachibana Makoto x Mommy!Reader)
A/N: Kind of a slice of life story. I hope you enjoyed it!
Two arrows of the clock hung on the wall showing the current night time. It was not young anymore, for the short arrow was just above the number 11 and the long was mere millimetres from its stagnant companion.
Normally, you have been sleeping by now.
But tonight was not the night.
"Oh come on...aren't you tried...?"
There you were, sitting on the old—albeit sturdy—wooden rocking chair. In your crossed arms was a little bundle of soft cotton blanket, wrapped inside it was yours and Makoto's first born: a healthy daughter with the brightest chartreuse irises and the silkiest (h/c) tresses: Azuka.
As if she understood the words flowing from your mouth, the infant let out a giggle as her chubby hands patted your cheeks in consoling manner. You kept on patting her bottom to coax her to sleep, despite the fruitless result.
You wouldn't mind taking care of this lit
~First Christmas~Something for mah snugglebuggle~
A short fluff of the Creepypasta welcoming Lubbock from Akame Ga Kill into the family via Christmas~
The green haired male scratched at his stitches as he watched the group hand out presents. As it would turn out, the pasta's celebrated Christmas early- because on the day of they all went out for a huge killing spree. The result of the spree usually ended with a news report on the "Christmas massacre", not that it made a difference to him. He wasn't one of them- not really. He was just someone one of them took pity on and brought home. A bitter look adorned his face as he turned to gaze at the woman held responsible- a golden tailed kitsune with self esteem issues. She'd found him after he'd been attacked, and had gotten friends to bring him home with her.
She'd convinced them to keep him alive. Eventually his woman came for him, and she was convinced to stay with them. He did so too, for her s
The One Who Forgot
Shanna helped an unsteady Alice into a guest room of her palace, Saki, Kazeko, and Hana following not far behind. What had happened moments before was a mystery to them, but before they could figure out why it happened they needed to know the state that their friend was in...
Alice was sat on a cushioned bed as Saki and Shanna sat beside her, Hana and Kazeko pulling chair up and sitting beside the bed. Saki ran her hand on Alice's shoulder, then through her blonde hair that curled near the bottom. "It's a miracle... China told me you'd be late, but... that Alice was dead..."
"That's what we that, too... But then there was flashes of light and crackling. Somehow Alice didn't die..." Shanna said, bandaging her forearm that was scratched up in her fight with Mina an hour earlier. "I'd like to know why."
"Her body isn't injured." Hana stated suddenly, being one not to talk so much when not with Len. "Her wounds are gone and all signs
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
Aqua Teen Hunger Force (solo en el horario nocturno)
Batman: La serie Animada
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 Increible Mundo de Gumball
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 de Super Mario Bros
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 Carto
You probably hate your grandmother, but you mustn't blame. Since, I decided do things of this way. I said that she will not give this letter till you will ready, meaning, when you will enough age for understand. She only fulfil with my wish, and I really be very thankful, as you must be too. She looked after you, when I didn’t stay there. I’m so sorry, can’t accompany you along your life, let you alone. You didn’t remember days we happened together, until I had to let you. I perfectly remember, first time took you in my arms, a thing so little, so delicate, I wish with my heart look after and protect you, forever. But,I promised with a task, and do my duty. I was missionary, together with your father, this way know us. When you only had five years old, I had let you with your grandmother, must continue helped people. Although this, I supposed let go it who I the most loved in world. You don’t know as it was painful for me, I can’t care
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.