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ē„ę„ / Permanent Vacation
Aqua Utopiaļ½ęµ·ć®åŗć§čØę¶ćē“”ć
we're not kids anymore.
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@bones8all
danazanatwins ā¾ā
coffee before bed / Chapter : Lines We Cross. From a book i'll never write, titled ''Fracture of Reason''
She claimed sheād study law tonight. I know that's a lie. She's a liar. And so am i. Can't help it. The story breathes against my neck..
I have a bad feeling. No, that's also a lie. I'm starving for the fall ā for the crack, the fracture, the sweet satisfaction that follows. In the dark, sheāll lick the bones clean. And Iāll breathe against her ear, just enough to blur the line between voice and echo - more, more, more...'' almost kindly, almost cruelly
the loathsome yellow paint
Commencement of term. The schoolās interior looked suitably depressing, the yellow plaster peeling away like vermin retreating into the dark. One might assume its sole purpose in life was to offend the eye of every passing student. That is, of course, if one valued aestheticsāwhich she most certainly did. And so, every godforsaken time she passed that corridor, a silent curse escaped her lips at the sight of that loathsome yellow paint. I almost pity the paint. But that, after all, was hardly the reason one came to school. No, the point was something else entirely ā a mystery known only to the headmistress, the janitor, and perhaps the devil himself, who surely took notes each morning from the faculty room ceiling.
via
- Gloria Steinem
And probably a bunch of other people too. FWIW, you can know the risk of saying your truth and choose silence. Your story is yours until the day youāre ready to speak.
from nowhere to nowhere
like what am I even for
i keep thinking about that night. The green dragon. She..sheās baking cookies. The blood is as comforting as it is a longing as it is hate. Jump? An instant flash of distant car lights and the sky and outlinings of the trees. An angel. Iām in hell. Whoās feeding me. You are not my mom. Whyād i think you are. Why are people having sex behind me (ina tent), my hospital bed. Voices screaming, they all are coming in through the windows to kill us . PURE horror. Tried standing up, but my legs were broken and fell instantly. A kick from a reality. Nurseās voice. Paintings of angelās. They creep me out now. Why do they all look the same. I never intended. Blood. i canāt conjure so i type the words i imagine i taste i have overwhelming hunger. Itās like a blanket. There was a time when i hadnāt a thing in my room that wasnāt once touched with a spatter of blood. The sheets, floors, the night sky projector still has uncleaned brown stains on it. The crazy lady tried to take my bloody hoodie away. What was not ruined by blood. Iām laying on an old bloody matress. Pain iāve caused is my pain i can tolerate.