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Cards“Hello..” The small card read, held by a petite girl in the dark room, her dark eyes staring into the reflection that mocked her. “My name is Arielle Marie Blevins, and I am 13. But call me Sba.” The candle flickered on the white counter, the dim light casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls of the small bathroom.

Her hands shook a little and she tossed the card down, trying to make sure it didn’t hit the burning flame. She read her next card with tired eyes, “My story is a unique one. Interesting.” The girl bit her lip nervously, letting her own mind flood with memories of the past as

FeathersI don’t really know how to start this. My memoirs drape over my head like a million wings at times like these and I can’t help but notice every feather and lose myself in counting them. The one that is the gravel road I grew up walking on is grayish brown, the one that is the burnt pumpkin wood that coats my house is frayed and holds a single box elder bug on its tip, and the one that is how the lawn feels between my toes when I stand still is chartreuse and glimmers if you turn it toward the light. There are no birds that hold these wings. Just a single cherub, watching over me with unblinking legions of eyes at God’s bidd

Mi autorretrato escritoGastarme en la descripción física sería una pérdida de tiempo. Todo el que me conoce me puede ver, y el que no, mejor. Es más lindo que te conozcan por lo que hay adentro tuyo que por tu apariencia.
Y no, no hablo de tripas, porque de esas tenemos todos y es asqueroso.
De mi misma puedo destacar gustos, como los libros de ciencia ficción o las películas que tienen poco sentido y son muy malas pero, de tan malas que son, pasan a ser buenas. Los cómics irónicamente tontos y los chistes de humor negro me dan mucha risa. No, esperen, todo me da mucha risa.
Soy desatenta cuando se trat

I am a womanI am not an object.

You cannot use me.

I was not made simply for your pleasure.
I am not a pretty picture to be used and thrown away.

I have a heart, feelings, dreams….

I have a purpose here.

I am a human being, a person like you.

And it hurts me when you treat me as less than human.

It hurts me when I become less than a whole,

And just the sum of my parts.

It hurts me when I become just something to please you.

It hurts me when you strip away my humanity,

My clothes,

My purity.

Even if just with your eyes and mind.

You cannot stare at me in longing.

You cannot undress me with your eyes.

You cannot force me to kiss you.

You cannot grope me as you see fit.

You cannot take advantage of me.

You cannot have your way with me.

I am not to be dominated.

I am not to be violated.

When I say no, I do NOT mean yes.

When I te

Things About Me 1Well. Let me start off by saying this is just a list explaining a few things plus some random shit about me.

I don't like ignoring people. I do read everything someone sends me, but I honestly feel uncomfortable talking to people sometimes. I would love to but it's like...Like I feel like somewhere along the lines I'll seriously piss off someone on accident or make them hate me because of my opinions. I dunno.

I have no confidence in myself at all. Usually people think I say "I'm fat" or "I wish I was beautiful" for attention. But it's not. I honestly feel that way. I think I'm hideous.

I want to be a writer but I feel like my writing is t

Something in commonIs it weird that I've never written about me? That I've never poured my heart and soul into something and hoped whoever read it would pick me apart but still remember to put me back together again? Maybe we're all just watches, ticking away - tick, tick, tick - and maybe that's why I don't really like people. Maybe I'm tuned in to that underlying sound of them fading away. It’s not like you can pick up another battery when you’re shopping, is it, and why would I want to get close to someone and end up counting seconds until they left again?

My mum has this watch. She’s had it for years, as long as I can remember and somehow

WatchersFake journal n° fhsgfasgasfasjgahhjf

I'll stick with that random number thing, yeh -u-
Maybe no one gives a frog but...

I felt like...

Saying...

That I'm gaining a lot of watchers lately ;A; ...

And...

I LOVE YOU ALL >w<

No I'm not on drugs, just I'm on a good mood today -u-

Turning TidesI vaguely recall a certain sadness I once felt, that has since passed in a flurry of life-changing events. I am very happy, now, and I spend all my days enjoying life. My memories of sadness, however, revolve around a lonely existence sitting in a room with invisible walls. I often found myself settled on the white floor, wondering what would come next. This room had an unpleasant odor and was quite empty. All I could find for comfort was a strange green plant that almost led to my demise one day. I was also quite hungry, and those who passed by my room, glancing through it's invisible walls, with held what I desired. Their glances and presence did little to interest me. I was horribly depressed. This existance.. was a pitiful one. I would try to cheer myself up, moving around my little room, but I would no sooner start to move, and I would meet an invisible wall. It was longer than wide, but either direction left me little space. I do not recall my life before thi

a thought on loveif only love was an option.

R-P-A-C BIO SHEETRPAC Bio Sheet

*dA name:* LUVthatSTUFF
*dA home page: http://luvthatstuff.deviantart.com/
*Real name: Just ask if you really wantto know

*Nicknames: Judge,Blood,Nagi,Clue,Spell ( depends on who you want to role-play with ) Or if you want me to role-play as myslf L-kun or Onion-kun will do
*Public email to contact: thatSTUFFLuv@yahoo.com
*Yahoo Messenger ID: thatSTUFFLuv@yahoo.com
*MSN: Can't use on my Mac, Buyt will use if needed
*AIM: Can't use on my Mac, But will use if needed
*Skype: Can't use on my Mac, But will use if needed
*ICQ: Don't know what that is...
*Best time to contact you? Throughout the week,Pretty much as ealy or as late as you want,though will tell you if otherwise
*Preferred RP method: I 'm an adapter, I will try what ever. Love new things~
Even Action and Adenture or more serious type things~
*Vore preferences / Pregnan

Procrastination High-pitched ringing chimed from a cell phone vibrating on an intricately carved wooden chair. With a muffled groan, a pale hand lazily slapped at it in a poor attempt to shut it off. Such attempts were obviously unsuccessful, and the pale hand retracted to the nearby bed. In one slow, shaky movement, the pale arm and its twin hoisted up a frazzled girl with a mess of dark hair hiding her face. She slid off the bedside and picked up her phone, shut it off, and sat back on the mattress.
“Maow…” whispered an orange fluff of fur at the foot of her bed. It raised its head and yawned as it blinked groggily at its owner

What They Do Not Tell You....What They Do Not Tell You About Being Color Blind

… is that over the course of your life you will be asked to identify the color of all manor of things, over and over.
What they don’t tell you is the disbelief that comes when you are able to correctly identify the color of said objects.
“So you’re color blind?”
“Yup”
“What color is my shirt?”
“Green”
“You’re not color blind!”
“It doesn’t work like that, I can see colors. It’s combinations, and tones and shades and stuff. Have you taken a color blindness test before?”
“No...

The Road To Me (Autobiographical)You'll find, throughout life, that many people have experienced things that they will never share. They will never bring them up in conversation or hint to the idea that they happened. Sometimes these things are monumental, but they cause such damage that they lock the past away. They become so used to the illusion of normality they cast themselves that they become lost in it, too, until the past feels like an alternative dimension.
Tonight, I finally feel able to write about everything that's happened to me. And it begins at a young age.
***
It was normal for my mother to be ill. Back then I never thought twice about it; it was the way the world was. Nothing odd about it, nothing foreboding. No reason. It's the way things were.
My mum was a wonderful woman. I feel bad for my inability to remember much about her, but I remember how she dotted her i's with circles. I remember how, when she wasn't ill, she was vibrant and full of life and love, and I loved her immensely. So did Dad. So d

CCT Anniversary Retrospective: Part 5Part 5: Heart Cards

With the cards sealed and the Judgment over, the next major plot point in the original Cardcaptors was transforming the cards so they could draw their powers from their new master. This was important in the first series because no new magic would mean the death of the cards and their Guardians. In Cardcaptor Torika I decided to add a sense of urgency. As the cards' old master was still alive, they themselves were not in any danger. Instead, the danger went back to Sakura.

The design for the seal, book and staff for the Heart Cards arc came before the story was written. Being this was a magical girl series, and that the s

My (Almost) Suicides (Elementary School) Everyone today at school has made me want to make this, and send it to each of their emails, just so I can hurt them back for hurting me. Everyday there is a different 'hot' topic going through the school. Today's happened to be suicide.
First off, to the one who said 'Suicide is stupid, I'm not stupid enough to cut myself'. Go fuck yourself.
I used to cut.
There, I said it.
Okay? I cut, yes.
Sometimes I still have the urge to cut, or to kill myself.
But this writing is not about that, it is about my PAST suicidal attempts.
-
My name is Taylor A. Compiseno, and the first time I cut was when I was around first grade. I was bullied for being the weird girl at school, and never had any REAL friends. Most people didn't know how much they hurt me, and I tried to kill myself at a field trip when no one was around. I was called stupid, ugly, and anorexic-skinny. My teacher, Mrs

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Beautiful

by ~Fenhedis, Jan 12, 2013, 12:57:42 PM
Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Biography & Memoir / Stories & Vignettes

The real meaning of b****: When someone calls you a b**** they're calling you beautiful, this is why, b**** means a dog and dogs bark, trees have bark and trees are nature, and nature is beutiful. so remember this when some calls you this.

Beautifulby ~Fenhedis

Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Biography & Memoir / Stories & Vignettes

©2013 ~Fenhedis

please copy this down in your journal after reading this.

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

Mood: Love

~prito004 Jan 12, 2013

very nice to see it that way

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~Fenhedis Jan 12, 2013 Student Artisan Crafter

ya it is isn't it?

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