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Hold ItIt's like holding your breath for a minute.
If you haven't experienced that sensation, go ahead and try it now since you've got nothing to lose and it'll help you better understand the story.
That first twenty seconds is like a walk in the park. Like, gosh, I didn't know I was so gifted at holding my breath. I am the best.
Then about halfway through it, you start feeling a pressure, right? Not exactly a panic, but you are just waiting for the moment when you can just start breathing again-- like normal.
Just five seconds after that you start panicking a little. Oh, god it has only been five seconds how am I going to handle twenty-five more seconds of this? Because now every second feels like your lungs are starting to collapse a little.
Every second is a struggle to not breathe, to go against nature just to reach an arbitrary goal of sixty seconds. And every second feels like an abomination; you shouldn't be feeling this pressure, you should be enjoying oxygen intake like a regul
Simple OperationHe hated himself for sitting so frozen. "It's really a simple operation, Jig," he said. "It's not really an operation at all." He was totally still except for his mouth it felt like.
The girl looked at the ground the table legs rested on. She was blank and hidden. Her voice was surprisingly strong despite having been silent for what seemed to be hours and hours as she said and not asked, "And you think then we'll be all right and be happy."
"I know we will. You don't have to be afraid. I've known lots of people that have done it." He didn't. He knew one person who had but he never met her. There was silence again. The warm wind blew the bead curtain against the table.
He so fervently wished it never happened. He also wished he could move, but moving before she did seemed like it would be going against the laws of nature. Apples falling upward seemed more probable at that point.
The very moment he was convinced she had turned into stone, she looked up at him
Day SuicideMy day was another suicide.
Luckily days can fade or burn or bloom,
And arrive promptly, with confidence,
I sometimes kill my day with cruelty,
Perhaps unfairness, too.
Tiny injustices that seem to weigh
The entire concept of our cosmos
But its only in your mind.
Your selfishness and self-murder;
Pain because you dont want to forget.
To ensure your memory is still alive
Day must die.
A memory that creates an emotion,
Deadly to your spirits and your day,
But at least you do not long for it.
You do not pine for the memory.
You die instead,
So the memory can live.
For the Sake of Mary Ann PrimChapter One
George Percival Higgins Jr. was sixteen years old and awkward. Not to the extent of being wince-worthy, but enough for one to know the poor boy was awkward. He stood at six feet and a quarter inch, towering above most of the boys in his class who werent basketball players, with gangly limbs jutting out in random directions.
Oh, and he wasnt actually sixteen; he was technically fifteen years old until tomorrow, but out of anxiety for the big one-six, he already rounded up. He did not know, however, how important this particular birthday would be in the grand scheme of his adolescence, and how important it was that his birthday had not yet
As George stared at his pasty reflection in the bathroom mirror, toothpaste still foaming at the mouth, he narrowed his eyes as if to look tough, or, actually, failed to look anything remotely tough since he still had toothpaste all over his mouth. George actually only narrowed his eyes because he didnt have his gl
The Wall of Your BackDarkness. Crickets. They chirp. Piercing the silence. We lay in bed together. Were not really together though since youre plagued. I know you are because somehow I can feel it coursing through you. The guilt doesnt just stay in you, no, it flows around us and over me who cant feel the awful sensation. I instead feel an acute pain from the barrier you suddenly dropped between us, reminding me that I should have left, and I would have given anything to disappear vanish right then and there.
And no matter the circumstance, I was rejected, and your rejection hurt me more than anything else did, and if I couldnt leave then I wanted your arms around me, holding me tight against your chest, stroking my hair, keeping me safe and assured that you cared for me still despite all of our wrongs. I have nothing but those contradictory desires gnawing and grating at some hidden place that then clenches my heart, shuts my throat, creates burning tears that can
How to be a Hopeless Romantic You gotta sit there first. Yes, just sit there. Start to daydreamif youve never daydreamed, just space out. Now smile like you just ate a big hot fudge sundae with extra fudge. You just imagined a hugit didnt have to be you actually getting the hug, but still, you imagine a great big warm hug.
This hug, that just the idea of it put that ridiculous smile on your face, was one of those hugs that people give each other after a long awaited reunionprodigal son type of things. Its also the type of hug that you imagine youd give to someone you loved who died but came back to life for a moment only for that hug. Any hug that strong and that encompassing always has a sadness to it. I mean, because you know that the hug has to end.
Next, feel the tugging desire at the pit of your stomach that wants to keep holding on to that hug. Even if youre just witnessing it, you still feel that tug somewhere. Suddenly, the overwhelming
The Turtle and His RockA turtle sat on a rock. The turtle liked his rock. The rock was cool and comfortable and covered in crisp green moss.
The turtle had been sitting on that rock for a long, long time. The moss even started to grow on him.
The turtle heard about many places, but he never went to them. He liked the place he heard from the bird called the pond the most. It was filled with water and many interesting creatures and had tasty food other than moss. He always wanted to go swimming.
But the turtle was a little scared to leave his rock. He only heard about other places from his friends. He was a slow walker, too; it could be a dangerous walk. He decided to stay on his rock.
One day, the wind blew a very nice smell over to the turtle. The wind came from where the pond was. It was very fresh and smelled like flowers. Even though flowers grew near his rock, the flower he smelled now was different.
The turtle felt very curious. He was actually so curious he stretched out his neck as far as
Another KissThat was the tenth.
Yes, the tenth.
And I looked away
Last time you had to.
This time I had to.
The next time I dont think
It starts with a look.
We continue to look.
And we pine 'til we finally
But this urge I get.
The urge you get.
Is strong, but the bubble
Its bad, I know.
Cant be, you know.
Thats why we are where we
Look, the eleventh.
God, the eleventh.
The kiss: a look from
She Blinded me with Candy
Remus collapsed onto the comfortable mass of the old chair in Nymphadoras room. A great sigh burst from Remus as he felt his whole aching, tired self relax and sink into the chair.
Today had been too much for his old body to handle.
The moment he thought it, he could almost hear Nymphadora laughing at his exaggeration. But no matter what the truth really washe felt exhausted beyond measure.
Thankfully he knew everyone was safe and alive. If he hadnt checked at the Burrow for the most recent updates on everyone, he would have been far too anxious and worried to enjoy the comfort of this glorious chair.
Merlin this chair is amazing, he said to himself as he sank deeper into the cushion,
If only I had a bit of chocolate or something He closed his eyes and right as he felt himself sink into sleep, a fearful chill forced him awake again.
She was supposed to be back already! His eyes shot open before he even completed the thought. T
you're the reason for my fraying edgesA piece of me snagged
on your fingertips, now
I'm spending the rest
of my life unraveling
About a girl(French version below)
Naiad, braving the tumultuous streams without risk
Your crystalline beauty illuminates these shabby, spineless and muddy reeds,
The softness of your skin like a caress that even the sea air couldn't bring me;
Oh My, I'd like to snatch this ivy leaf which covers you way too much!
I accomplished the most perilous labour just by staring at you;
My Hesperide, your breathtakingly high curves entice this pilgrim, blinded mortal,
And force naked and fool men to carry their own Iliad out to conquer you.
The singing of your voice shall guide us through this long, calm watercourse to the Elysium.
Your smile, forbidden sin, makes me break all my oathes.
For a brief moment, I vow to let myself be fooled by these pipe dreams of fantasy -
I want to dedicate this lyric song you've inspired me to the Gods, Polyhymnia,
You got me sailing on the river of dreams.
About a girl
Naïade, bravant sans péril les flots tumultueux
My Dark OneMeet me near the
Drape me in your
Only you can give
Never forget our
Seeing GhostsBefore the mirror she is seated,
the beauty that she sees before her
confounds her hesitant gaze.
Her reflection too
seems to keep her eyes averted,
as though she also possessed
the gift of sight, liveliness
of mind. Sentient she might be
and see too clearly how
that captivating face
had only eyes and love for her,
who was only a figment,
the stuff of unreality!
Both gazers blinded by their vision,
by eyes much too expressive,
by the ache of unattainable yearning
- much too intense for either gaze to meet.
PermanenceNot a day goes by that I do not think if you. That I do not wish to hold you close and never let go. I never thought I'd be so happy. So happy and in love. So joyful in life.
You've changed me for the better in more ways than you could ever know.
It'd probably take an eternity to explain how much I love you. I couldn't express said emotions. The feeling of longing and devotion rather well. The feeling of never wanting to let go.
I've never been one for sappy love letters and long winding esoteric lectures ,yet I'm writing this. I'm a walking contradiction.
I've never been one for romantic things , yet my words are flowing through my veins so poeticly. Like an electric current of passion. A sea of never ending happiness.
You're the only person who could make me feel this way.
I long to embrace you more than life itself. Without you ,my heart has no meaning. It beats as I breathe. It beats with a feverish pace. An unwilling desire to never end.
Guardian AngelLet me kiss your heart,
to take all your pain away.
Let me hug you
to make you feel safe.
Let me kiss your eyes,
to drink your tears and wipe them away.
Let me touch your soul,
and fill it with my love.
Let me be your only guardian angel,
ready to protect you till the end.
death is the space between his heartbeati. she has spent so much time howling at the moon that she isn't sure what the sun looks like, anymore, and her heartbeat has stuttered to a standstill in her chest and she is neither here nor there, not dead or alive but she is everything in-between and people wonder why her favorite color was grey.
ii. in truth she speaks now only to those she deems worthy of her words. elongated conversations and more than two words, be them verbal or text, requires an amount of willpower that is growing smaller each day and she wants to ask for help but she's already used up her allotted slots of words for the day and come the morn she will have forgotten by then.
iii. she is not angry so much as she is hurt and, god, she isn't even sure why it's taken so long for the pain to come. fuck, it isn't as though this is new in any fucking way yet she expects different, wishes and hopes and perhaps she should have known better.
iv. he can't find it in himself to care about anything as of late. frie
just like the starsstars
so far away
countless diamonds scattered across the skies
silver-eyed and peacefull
if you watch them from afar
just like you
if I love you from afar
you are just like them
in your embrace I am burning
slowly dissolving in torches of your
and I have no one else to blame
WantI want him.
This rapt and
That pine, that perish
we all know.
I want him to hum into my ear,
beneath my ceiling of stucco.
I want him to stop
me, with arms
so his head can rest
at the base of
my neck on
I want him to reach for my hand
his quiet movement from a calm
I want him to map out trails
skin as we lay
discussing the texture of linen.
I want him to sing to himself
as he walks calmly
I want him to smile against my
chest because my
hand in his
hair lulls him
I want him to photograph
an instant, a
subtle blur of a smile
so he'll have a
moment to keep.
I want him to look at me and even
if it's just for a drop
in an sea of hours:
nothing else in
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More