[x]

Construction Paper HeartIn all my life, there are many things my brothers taught me. Very few of them were taken seriously, and I can only remember a handful.

And so, rule number four was as follows: If you're ever on your first date with a guy in a restaurant and your date orders a lemon margarita, dump him. Immediately. Just end it right there.

Rule number six was to never, ever feed a stray cat tuna, for then, they will become tuna junkies.

Yes, I know, they're both very important life lessons; I agree. However, there's a deeper meaning in both of them. ...Well, alright, maybe there isn't.

But they did teach me this, and it's more than enough to make it throu

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

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

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

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

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-

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

Smoke Stitches: The Fabric of Family Smoke Stitches: The Fabric of Family

I’m looking at a picture.
What a way to start. It’s an overdone, typical beginning. Someone standing with a photo album, flipping through pages of family reunions, only recognizing every third face they see. Suddenly they come across a picture of a person they almost forgot existed…or it could be you, doing a little light dusting on a bookshelf in the corner, brushing a rag down the spines of authors you promise to read again someday, just not today. You pick up a picture frame with the purpose of wiping the filth from the glass, but after the first swipe, you see a gaggle of smiling

I don't care.Who cares about humanity? We all knew that we were going to blow ourselves to pieces one day, it was just a matter of when. We use to have huge buildings, hospitals, cars, and inventions that could change the world for the better, but instead we used technology to slowly kill ourselves with nuclear weapons, pollution, and biological warfare. Human's biggest threat was themselves, and now we have to deal with it. We're the ones who have to change the world. We have to fix the mistakes that our grandparents and parents made for us. We never even had a choice, just a "responsibility". We never wanted to grow up in this treacherous world that the

Cards [Updated]“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

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Dies IraeShe stood in the hazed edge, the rest of the hall filled with a slow burning warmth and dredges of sun that filtered through the high windows. She breathed evenly: the thick scent of heavy spices made her whole body feel more real, as though the weight of the mere aroma could anchor her to her body. She made a point to breath slowly, to not choke, to fill her lungs with the vapors.
I'm not really sure, maybe it's because of how alive it all is.
She closed her eyes and leaned back, the feeling of eyes was overpowering at times, they did not judge. The colors blurred around her with an ancient sort of glow; enveloped by the feeling of weighted serenity, she felt the moment as though it was suspended in rose oil.

Do not allow duty to obscure purpose, or life itself.
The second stretched forever, sinking in the denseness of life and saturating this into memory. Her shoulders were warm with the thick shroud of comfort and solemnity.
The feeling of holiness had left, and she f

HopeHope.
That traitor, I have since sworn off love, and she comes? Bathed in milk, she comes, dressed in the best of silks, she comes into my abode and I am forced to grit my teeth and smile at her flirtation.
See her lust for life! Her passion for happiness!
How I hate her!
And evil devil-child! Woman-child she is that comes and wrecks my room, and when I am left to weep, she walks out?
How I hate her!

13. MisfortuneI have two conflicting thoughts within my head.
I want to write poised, and elegant, words that spill out prettily and flow and simper in a meaningful way.
And I want to write about life.
But life isn't elegant, nor is is poised or pretty.

I need a cigarette"No idea."
I flipped the egg over, and it sizzled minute or two little before I slid it onto the plate.
"You gotta have an idea," I said and flipped off the flame. I put the plate down on the table, poured a little milk into my coffee.
When I sat down, he was already eating, and I sighed and grabbed the fork he put down for me, and then took a look at him. He sat taller, more from posture I knew than growth, and his hair was a little long, but it was still styled like Gene Vincent. He shook his head again, "I really don't."
I pulled a face at him, really more of a mouth twitch, "Well, I suppose it's fine anyway," I changed the subject "Have you heard anything from-" I hesitated, "from his mother?"
He stared at me hard for a moment, and then took a sip from his coffee and sighed. "No."
I hummed, and cut the egg over the rice, and took a long pull of coffee.
Outside the window, the snow had stopped, and it was too cold to not heat the house. But I sat by the window anyway, and knew tonig

12. Insanity"-thanks again mum," her voice was weary on her side of the phone, the tiles of the kitchen a wet blue that she rather liked, grey toned as it was.
"What goes on with that new boy? That-" she heard some quiet grumbling and the liberal news, "that.... Adam boy? How is he doing? You said he wasn't well?"
She sighed and stirred the lukewarm coffee on her table, "His name isn't Adam, mum, it's Daniel. Adam's a pervert I've known since Fresh-"
"It doesn't matter!" she snapped, and there was a brief pause when she heard her voice switch to honey smooth as she handled a woman at her counter, and then - "What's going on with him? You stopped talking about him."
"Eh," Jane trailed off, it was best she told the truth now, and she stood to dump the coffee in the sink, "He tried to off himself"..... again.The window was foggy, and she smoothed it with her sweater's sleeve, but the cool air made it fog again.
"No!" she said again, "Not that boy- The

11. MemoryShe stood over him for a moment, while he fiddled carefully with the small clasp in his hands, and then handed her the repaired necklace.
"Done, milady," he said with a wink and a low bow, "This one must be off to do the merry making and-"
"Off you Fool," she snipped, flicking her lily hand at the quiet, garishly dressed, man, but his grin only grew wider, and he kissed the proffered hand.
"Not a fool, is this one," he said slyly, "But a troubadour, to woo and kiss you."
She snatched her hand away, sniffing the air offended as she stalked away, down the cool corridor.
His small smile remained, as he looked at his hand for a long while.

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Submitted: April 20, 2012
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Triangle

by ~EmpressHimiko, Apr 20, 2012, 9:41:10 PM
Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Biography & Memoir / Stories & Vignettes

Hey-
Hey Sweetie!
I'm in love with you,

well,

not really.
I saw you, the first time, and thought! 'I Wanna love him!'
And, I made it my goal, to be in love with you,
and I began to fall,
fall,
fall-
And when I found out you had a girlfriend, it made sense, so, I've decided to be your best friend.

And your girlfriend,
you're so perfect for each other,
[it's sweet really,
everyone is jealous, posivitely magical the way you two are]
She's beautiful, and she needs you, and she's the kind of sister I've always wanted.
And you need her too, she's good for you, much better then I'd ever be.
And,
I still want to end my sentences
'Love you sweetie'
But I'm the best friend.
I want to fall in love with someone,
you'd be perfect,
But I'm not selfish,
or at least, that's what I tell myself,
I won't fall for you-
It's not fair to you,
or her,
and I want to be close,
so I will be,
When you doubt, I'm behind you,
When you worry, I'm comfort,
I'm not in love now,
But I could be, tomorrow,
I'll be the best friend,
that I can be,
and when you worry about her, I'll reassure you of your love's strength with her,
and when she worries about you, I'll reassure her of your love's mutual strength with you,
and when I worry, I'll bite my nails,
offer a smile,
and sit and wait for another one like you.

Triangleby ~EmpressHimiko

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

I'd say it's a love triangle, but we're functioning well and better then ever.

~rascalscamp Apr 20, 2012 Hobbyist

Well you did better than my ex's ex.. that was a fun clusterfuck.

Beautifully written, you sound like an amazing friend.

~EmpressHimiko Apr 20, 2012 Student General Artist

Ah, I hope so ^_^ [I hope that clusterfuck didn't end... so bad]
Thank you very much, I try to be, and I think he appreciates it

~rascalscamp Apr 23, 2012 Hobbyist

Oh, well, I dumped him, and then she started bitching me out about it - when that was what she wanted the whole time. lol.

Very welcome.

I hope he realizes he's lucky.

~EmpressHimiko Apr 23, 2012 Student General Artist

XD Ah, ex-s suck >_<
^_^

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