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The Rent Is DueThe rent is due and I don't have the money.
I walk through the lobby, past the doorman who gives me a scowl, out the revolving door.
My father calls. He only ever talks about the bad things.
It's cloudy and gray outside. It's always like that this time of year.
My hands are shaking and I desperately need a smoke.
I see a man and ask if I can bum one off him. He tells me to get away from him.
He calls me a 'hobo'.
Am I? I'm going to be. Soon.
The rent is due and I don't have the money.
I have a mid term that I haven't even started yet.
I should go back inside, but why?
I lost my wallet last week. Someone maxed out all of my cards.
I have a headache.
Cars pass. People speak.
The rent is due and I don't have the money.
When I go home I'm sure someone will be there.
Someone will have called.
Someone will be there.
My furniture will be gone, and my things will be packed.
I have such a headache.
I smell awful.
I look awful.
I'm a 'hobo'.
I have a headache.
I smell bad.
I need a smoke.
Permission to ExistFor her to live without me?
It would take desperate measures. Measures that I don't think others would appreciate.
I, for one, act automatically. I do not think about my actions.
The world is made up of actions. Actions, and consequences.
I don't make choices. I don't change my path. And why?
Because the world is actions and consequences.
Intentions are lost.
Thought is lost.
Blame is lost.
Only consequences have staying power.
And the consequences of me, a vital part of her personality and mind and being, leaving her?
Well, they would be devastating.
And frankly, I don't want to leave.
As much as she'd like to think I can just pull away, pretend as though nothing has ever happened...
Life does not work that way.
Avoiding the problems you have will not make them go away.
And if you try, it will all turn out for the worse.
She thinks she can escape me, but she has never been able to in the past.
And well, to be frank, I don't want her running off.
I don't need permission t
I Dream About HerI dream about her, quite often, actually. It's been nearly two and a half years since I've seen her face to face, and it truly does break my heart when I remember the good times. She was one of my best friends, one of the greatest influences in my life, and someone who could make me smile. However, all good things must come to an end eventually.
Drugs don't just affect you, they affect your friends. When you've been roped into the bad crowd and refuse to turn to the people who love you most, you're going to lose everything you care about. Well, I cared for her, alright. We were nearly as inseparable as Sempai and I, hanging out nearly 24/7. Sure, there were fights, but every friend has a fight. It's when the line is drawn that things get messy.
In my dreams, I remember how she used to be, how fun she was, how silly she acted, and how she was just pleasant to have around. What happened? Why did she decide to go the way she went? To turn to lying, drug abusing, and overall not caring for
One last time. KristaXReaderFor music please listen
Highly recommended after the game scene though
"Two Kings!” Krista piped laying the cards on in the pot laying on my lap. She sat cross legged on the hospital bed with me. Sitting up straight and laid her cards face down in her lap leaning forward, now were both now down to one card. you looked up from my last card and glared at her. For such an innocent girl she had one hell of a poker face. you swallowed the lump in my throat and laid down my last card.
“One Ace.” you stated and crossed my arms challenging her to say it.
‘that’s it! the cat’s in the-’
“Bullshit!” She called out and flipped over the card that had just laid down….a queen,.
“Damn it Krista!” you shouted smacking the pile off my lap then pouted indignantly.
"Can't you just let me win for once." I asked. Krista giggled an
How to love a guy who can't love himself.How to love a guy who really doesn’t love himself.
Well first, there are numerous ways you can do this, so just sit back and listen.
Number one rule, tell him to drop his façade, abandon the stereotypes that society places upon him, find the real him, the core, so fragile and so easily able to be hurt.
When you find the real him, who he really is, then look him in the eyes, past all that buff, and all of that strength and mutter a few simple words. ‘It’s okay to cry.’ And when he cries, when he falls to his knees and allows his body to tremble for the first time in decades, you put your hands on his shoulders and say, ‘Everything will be fine’.
And when he looks up at you, with tears in his eyes, shaking out of either shame or anger, you just smile at him, and say ‘No’, not because he’s crying but because you know he’s threatening to close himself off again to the world, and put on that face that he fe
.things i've learned in
the last few months:
-friends are expendable.
-so is sanity.
-you can like girls and boys
and neither and either.
-it is possible to
exist while half your soul
is jutting out of your body.
-change does not help
-you can't bring back the dead.
-but you can hold the dead in your
arms when their eyes won't close.
-and when you make pacts with god,
remember that you're still upholding
so many promises with him in the first place.
-you're not suicidal, just human.
-maybe just a little less human than
-devaluing people doesn't
help your social anxiety.
-you can't run away from job
opportunities just because
you think a colleague is whispering about you.
-but you do get a choice on which job to take.
-and no, you're not so worthless that you have
to settle for a job you know you'll hate.
-and you do have a right to be paranoid.
-you don't have to write your sister.
RainAs the electric arc sizzles away like frying bacon, two pieces of steel are fused together into one mechanical mass. Its Thursday night, and for us its the last night of the work week. Weekend ahead, money in our pocket, endless possibilities.
But for now, there are 36" mower decks to run. Bright light on a dark night, smoke and sparks, and 8 hours of staring into a false star. The shop is filled with a light yellow haze, it drifts through the air like a ghost as we work away the hours till dawn.
It is warmer than previous nights, winter is coming to an end and spring begins. Its raining!
Not snowing, not hail, not ice that clings to all things, but the continual 'tap, tap, tap' of heavy rain, almost like the distant roar of a forgotten army.
Sparks fly and fill the night, the haze is stifling, creeping behind helmet and vale. Another hand crafted product is born, and ready for processing, on to the paint line and the day crew.
A hot steel plate that will be painted black, built up wit
You and I are just the same...
Through glazed plastic eyes I stare, a soft smile sewn onto my lips.
"You're my best friend!" the girl across from me smiles, giggling gleefully as she does.
"You're mine too..." I respond with warmth in my unspoken words.
She brings me close, hugging me to her chest, as she spins in a circle. Then after she holds my hand and brings me wherever she goes.It always starts like that, so gentle and innocent. Slowly, it grows as she starts to reveal her secrets to you. Crushes she has, wishes for things that she wants. You'd think this was an unbreakable bond. But then, they begin to grow distant. Their warmth leaves and you're left in a cold corner, forgotten.
They may come to visit you every now and then, but it's never for very long and soon enough it's they simply don't return. In years they may find you and look you over. They find you dusty, your eyes are scratched and the paint is faded.
"I remember y
Can I Just Say I Love You?Well… um… hello there. I didn't think you'd actually read this, but here goes nothing. So I sorta… you know… love you. Yea, I know it's strange to think about. Me of all people too. I just can't help be die a little inside when you say hi to me and walk to her. You know? I just kinda get a little jealous, but I'm too afraid to tell you I love you. So I wrote this note, hoping you'd read it somehow. So, why don't you just tell me you fell the same way? It would be wonderful to hear again. I know you are a little confused and I know this is strange. I'm not good a writing sonnets and I can't look at you in the eye except when I want you to see that I love you. So next time I see you, I'll look you in the eye. Then you'll know I mean it. Because I do. So, I hope I'll get a message from you or bump into you at the store.
20th of AprilIt was one of the finest houses, if not the finest house, one could ever lay their eyes upon, located in the more calmer and less trespassed districts in the city centre of Vienna. Adolf looked up at it. He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt so low-class, and this, standing in front of an inanimate structure. He felt so puny standing before the Viennese, two-story, excessive city apartment, its prestige overwhelming the seemingly small man dressed in a plain everyday black suit and a navy-blue tie to go along with it, the fanciest he could find that was stuffed somewhere within his drawers, which complemented the colour of his eyes. His eyes were the only bodily feature he was personally quite fond of. Friends, family and others he had encountered would always remark about the magic and charm his eyes tend to conjure (interestingly enough this was mostly expressed by the female ratio). His shoes, also black, he had polished as best he could. He held his grey felt hat which
AwakeShe must be so peaceful when she sleeps.
The way she must look - so complacent and calm, no frown or grimace. Her eyes would be shut, her breathing so even and soft...not the harsh and ragged breath of anger that I am so used to hearing, even now. What a nice change it would be...curls fluttering down over her face, wavering back and forth in the wake of her breath...
Her chest would rise and fall, smoothly and sweetly, her clothes wrinkling a little with every inhalation. She would barely move, as well - a small twitch or shift here and there, maybe scratching her arm once or twice. It would be...almost cute, perhaps, to watch her. Perhaps her nose might wrinkle up upon the feelings of discomfort, as well...my favorite part would be to see the smile she holds in her sleep, to hear the things she mumbles softly.
But in this moment, she is awake. I see the beautiful brown eyes that sparkle with joy when I am not around. For, when I am, they glare at me. I dislike that. When she glares a
mechanici want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes
but this dripping heart of mine can only feel
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth
so i only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that i care all too much
and in order to fix you up again,
i would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but i just haven’t figured out how.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More