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3 a.m. rambles on a bus ride home from NYCIt's 3 a.m. and I'm somewhere in Pennsylvania, probably,
dozing off every few minutes and cramped into a small bus seat
that is very uncomfortable.
Trees pass me by, few lights of homes appearing and passing,
or the blinking of telephone towers off in the distance.
We pass by small cities, the street lamps illuminating the silhouettes
of hotels and restaurants right off the highway.
The world beyond the bus is black, endless black.
The skies are clouded, not a star in sight, and I am
three days more into missing you.
The time blurs as minutes tick by, and I know if I fall
asleep on this cursed vehicle I will get sick,
so I continue to write to you,
to try to convey what the deepness of the night
does to my thoughts.
I miss you.
I miss you.
I hope you miss me, too.
InfinityWe can create universes.
Infinity flows through our veins and only when we dig deep enough in the crevices of our very existence do we find the stars, nebulae, planets roaming within the particles that make up our DNA. These homes, these stories, they are a part of us. Every cell in our bodies can contain so many other worlds, so many other us's that we don't know about and that they don't know about and that's incredible, so very incredible.
Some days, however, a bit of this world may find its way into our life. We feel the sudden urge to create, to release the energy that's been pumped into our veins and itches itches itches to find a way out. It crawls its way into our brains and the nerves find it's too much, too much, so it sends it back and it courses through along our life streams and down to our arms or our legs and further to our wrists and ankles our hands and our feet our fingertips and our toes where we can't hold it in, our fingers
Falling: Prologue“If everybody minded their own business, the world would go around a great deal faster than it does."
Saturday, June 9th, 2057: 5:17 A.M.
I woke to silence and knew I was alone. Of course I was used to this: waking up each and every morning to an empty house. It was almost as though one could hear their own breathing and, if they’re lucky and listen to the quiet hard enough, hear the sound of air hissing past their ears like when you place your ear to a conch and imagine that it’s the ocean.
Stiff joints popped and I flexed beneath the blankets- arched my back and let out a small grunt as sleep-ridden muscles were forced to work again. With much effort I worked my way out of the bed and lumbered to the bathroom across the too-quiet, too-dark hallway to relieve myself and look into the mirror with a scowl. My reflection scowled back.
Still half awake and barely functioning, I put my
The Stages of SpringI. Autumn's presence
Nothing but the crisp smell of
Fallen leaves and the in-and-out
Patterns of warm days laced with chill
II. Snow storms in March
Cold and ice when and where
It just shouldn't be
III. Lengthening days
And screwed up sleeping schedules
As night comes later
And an hour is lost from the day
Try not to have an early schedule that week
Because deep regret will follow with the first morning
IV. Flowers blooming and birds returning
Trees coming back to life with buds of pink
And chirps of winged beauties
Blessing the steadily-warming mornings
Warmth of the oncoming summertime
Unsure of a titleYou held my very existence within calloused fingers
And palms roughened from both playing stringed instruments
And catching yourself as you tripped over life’s speed bumps.
I wasn't broken, in the beginning.
Glued together and delicate, but not quite ruined.
You were gentle with my being and you cared
But I began to grow dark with age
My fingers grew slender from typing away my mind
And my limbs grew lined and dotted with scars
That were either intentional or accidental, I stopped keeping track at one point.
Eventually, it chased you away
And despite you staying, you weren't quite there with me
As the cracks grew more prominent and my mind grew heavy with beautiful thoughts
Of falling from your hands and crashing down into the icy dark of life’s ruthless grasp.
Of shattering upon impact and leaving everything behind.
You put me back on the shelf from which you found me,
Damaged and too close to the edge and left to collect dust.
Not that I minded; it
Squeaky Shoes and Vacant EyesSqueaky shoes and vacant eyes
Earbuds that hide a mind that lies
Music so loud to block out the noise
Caused by the judging girls and boys
Pale pink scars and shaking hands,
Snapping wrists with rubber bands.
Hair cut shorter, sleeves bought longer,
Hiding away so they can sit and ponder
The life they want to leave behind
But each day life will be sure to remind
Them to go outside with a smile and a lie
And to go back home and never cry.
And after all this time with every lie
They wait for the day they can say goodbye
To squeaky shoes and vacant eyes
And earbuds that shield a mind that wants to die
Dear deviantART: Free The Author
In a world as colorful, diverse, unique and beautiful as it is today, I’ve learned through my 10 months on this website that many people enjoy expressing themselves in many different ways when it comes to art.
Whether it be through romance, nature, darkness, light or everything else there is to express with, it becomes even more interesting when I see the people express themselves with so many different mediums.
Myself? I enjoy expressing my artistic abilities through many mediums: Digital art, poetry, but most avidly, the xReader fandoms. Avengers, Sherlock, Free!, Shingeki no Kyojin and many, many others.
99% of my stories are romantic. I love to write romance, though I usually don’t take it much further than a little something like a sweet little kiss, the beginning of a new relationship, a baby being born, or occasionally, the odd sexual innuendo. Once, I tried writing a lemon. However it didn’t work out very well, and I decided to remove it for personal reasons.
My ConfessionI never really thought about my lack of sexual interest before society confronted me with it.
It took me quite a while to notice guys as anything more than "other people", and when I did, it was more a group pressure thing than real interest.
I even had a boyfriend then, but not because I particularly liked the guy. Having a boyfriend in your teens is a status symbol. Have one, you're cool, have none, you're not.
Of course, back then things weren't that clear to me. I went with the flow.
For a very long time, I wondered what is wrong with me that I don't enjoy sex, that It makes me feel awkward and that I have no desire to go out and date. Society made me believe it is wrong to be like that. I was ashamed of myself, of my flaws and my obvious failure of being a full-fledged human being.
You define yourself through others. You try to figure out who you are, and you look at others for guidance, for something you can identify with. But you only limit yourself with that, and not finding si
Bullying, a brief storyI always knew I was off, that there was something wrong with me. Elementary school was a wild ride, with no friends, funny nicknames, and even beatings. My nickname, was "It". At that time I didn't know there was any other sexuality other than straight. I didn't know that happened. However, I still admired my same-sex friends, I thought they were pretty, and I wanted to kiss them as much as the opposite gender.
I was pushed off of rock walls, slides, I had basketballs, dodgeballs, footballs, thrown at my head, I was tripped kicked and punched, the nurse knew me by name.
I didn't understand why it was happening, I didn't understand anything. I legit had to make a hula hoop be my best friend, and I'm not even joking.
It wasn't until I started reading the bathroom walls, the backs of whiteboards in class, graffiti on the playground, that I understood. Everyone assumed I was gay, and they wrote stories about me everywhere. Doing things I wasn't old enough to know about yet. The opposite ge
Never Become Like MeWHAT INSPIRED ME TO CREATE THIS PIECE!
"Creating things is an amazing thing. it’s amazing to see what other people are doing, to see the inner workings of someone else’s brain, but in their own style. and if you want to do it, you just go for it. you try. you have to try. ” ~PJ Liguori (KickThePJ) (I'm not scared video)
I am only a young girl, destined to work until my body begins to fade from the earth.
I am only a fragment of the country that floats on the body of water that blankets the world.
I am a person with feelings towards many things. Some things I love so much that I would protect them, even if protecting them cost my own tiny life. Some things I despise so much that I would toss them into the flames that younger children admire so much that they utter words in a melodic fashion around it... And I would watch it burn...
Most days I wake up, I put on my clothes and I venture towards a place which I am forced to endure for six painful hours. I sit on one of t
Inside the VaseThe vase stands there
Cold and firm.
It doesn't make a move.
No one knows.
The vase is pushed
Maybe there was nothing inside.
I am the vase.
I try to put back my pieces with glue.
I guess I finally cracked.
Through all the little cracks
There was water inside.
seems like a bluri wish that people were more transparent.
we're all skin and bones and most of the things that keep us awake and that break our bones is so internalized
and completely invisible. cause most of the time living kind of feels like i've spent countless hours spinning around in circles, and now i'm just trying to keep my stomach from rising, or my eyes from leaking every last liquid i have inside me while the world rushes so inconceivably fast.
i know that i can heal.
skin grows over deep wounds, and even the whitest mountainous scar tissue fades. but i dont know if the external matches the inside. the cuts have healed and the bruises are starting to disappear, but i dont know how your head is feeling. you might not have the black and blue lining your skin anymore, but your insides might still be threatening to drown you, or make you wish you could just stop existing for a little while. you dont know whats happening underneath blemish free skin.
people aren't clocks.
you cant se
A little message of hopeIf you feel like dying
Please don't believe what they say,
You have a right to live,
You have a right to stay.
I don't care what you believe in,
I don't care where you're from,
Just as long as you know what feelings are,
As long as you're beautiful,
Beautiful meaning that you can love.
All that matters is that you're human,
All that matters is that you have a heart.
Your life is not worth it only if you are a bad person,
But you're not a bad person,
There will always be people who will hate you
For whatever reason,
Whether it be reasonable or not,
But no matter what they say,
There are people out there who love you for you.
Out there there are millions willing to show you
Just how much they care,
Even though they might not have met you.
You don't have to have perfect teeth,
You don't need this hour-glass shape that society wants you to have,
You don't need to be a specific gender,
And hey, it's okay if you pull at your hair,
We all want to do that in some points of life
Dealing with Awkward Questions
Awkward Questions and How I Answer or Avoid Them
What is bigender?
Bigender, bi-gender or bi+gender describes a tendency to move between feminine and masculine gender-typed behavior depending on context. Some bi-gendered individuals express a distinctly "female" persona and a distinctly "male" persona, feminine and masculine respectively; others have shades of grey between the two. It is recognized by the American Psychological Association (APA) as a subset of the transgender group.
Are you a persona?
I am Melian!
Are you an OC?
I am Melian. I am very original and I do have a lot of character, thank you!
How old are you?
None of your beeswax bucko. Sheesh.
Are you a man or a woman (boy or a girl)?
No what I mean is, what gender/sex were you born as?
OH look a butterfly! Hey, what's your favorite color? Mine is purple. I like Skittles, do you like Sk
Snuff Out My Little FlameIn the truest sense, I am much like a flame in so many different ways.
Can I count them, the reasons, off on my hands? Yes, perhaps on one, but it's still more than just comparing myself and leaving you, the unfortunate reader cursed with this unfortunate piece, hanging, no?
Burning bright with the potential of whatever it desires, providing hope for those around it; lighting the paths of worse-off, guiding them through their dark-riddled misery. Unwavering in the presence of the comforting and warm light, unwavering in the presence of the cruel and cold darkness-- something to admire for a beauty simply indescribable if one were to ask.
Ah, but with such qualities-- such a surface-- requires other, far more disgusting ones, right?
This light that burns so brightly, this flame that you think is there to protect and guide, why, I am not there for that at all-- I just happen to be in the right place at the right time. Problems of my own plague me so, and, upon my hours of need, t
They Won't StopI can't make you happy anymore.
My life was devoted
To making everyone happy.
Now I've done the opposite,
And I can't fix everything anymore.
The puddle of blood is growing around me
I'm so sorry
That I can't save everyone.
But right now
I can't even save myself.
I hold his present to my chest- the bracelet is slowly becoming stained red
It doesn't hurt anymore.
Each cut for each person
I was unable to help,
Everything has a blurry haze to it now. . .The tears on my cheeks belong to the living being I used to be. Each drop holds the life I'm letting go.
A shard of my breaking heart and spirit.
Now all I can do is say
Goodbye. . .
And hope that when I'm gone. . .
I'll finally have made you all happy. . .
Because the blood and tears won't ever stop now.
Keep in Touch!
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