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Lost but FoundI screech the car to a stop, this last stop sign telling me what to do,
I won't have one more second of it.
You pour out of the car, like liquid, your cute little sly smile showing you see more in me than most do,
You see the man I was and the man I can be.
We stare at these clouds, the beautiful clouds,
And block out what others have to say, what the fuck do they know anyway, what do we care.
The middle of nowhere ever felt so good, the road, the destination is never important, the time spent together is,
My urge is to push everyone away, but you grip hold, like we are connected by rubberbands, a little bit of distance before springing back.
So in the silence of this road, lost, but found, I draw you closer, I put my hands on you, like they rarely leave you away,
And you know that my touch is how I express so you know how I feel.
An Intro to my VersionAn intro to my version.
The basic psychologist description of introversion is.
A person who is energized by spending time alone. Often found in their homes, libraries, quiet parks that not many people know about, or other secluded places, introverts like to think and be alone.
Contrary to popular belief, not all introverts are shy. Some may have great social lives and love talking to their friends but just need some time to be alone to "recharge" afterwards. The word "Introvert" has negative connotations that need to be destroyed. Introverts are simply misunderstood because the majority of the population consists of extroverts.
It has taken me a lifetime to work out my problems in this world.
As a child I suffered terribly with being ‘Shy’ in groups of people, yet I was fine with my close friends but also had to have my re-charge time.
And it’s not until recently that I have really understood that I am a true introvert.
My job and my passion of photography req
One Simple LookFrom your floor,
Your hardwood floor.
Next to the fire,
Staring out the window at the fire escape.
You don't have a view,
So you internalise.
I try and see the world the way you do,
From your perspective.
And I will as long as you promise to see it through mine,
Through my lens.
I want you to see the way I see you.
But we struggle,
So we tell stories, of our loss.
By the fire in my yard,
From the mattress dragged to my floor.
Under the shower in the darkened bathroom,
I search for the simple words to tell you that you're beautiful.
But I trip on my words,
I wish I could say it from a look.
One simple look.
The True ArtistThe true artist is within,
He/She probably don't do it for a living.
They work 40+ hours at a job, but dream of art,
And save for the next project, for the next brush, for the next lens.
There is a million things in their way, distractions, obstacles,
Yet they still create, those are the true artists, that do it for the love.
They don't get recognition, or a million likes every time they burp.
They don't have staff to stock studios, or load film, or move lights or promote their vision,
They work their hours, save their energy, and use their spare time to create,
These are the artists that you want to know, and be around, and support with your body, your thoughts, and your money.
ExpectationsI’m sure as fuck not perfect,
And anyone that really expects me to be will be surely let down.
I have moments of clarity, where everything is bright,
And days of down time when I just want to think and be alone.
But it’s during those times that I want you to reach out to me, pull me back,
Because it’s a real fear that in one of those moments I won’t come back.
Like a face locked in when the wind changes.
That I’ll be gone forever, no more work, no more photos, no more me.
TrustIt's almost impossible to make your mark on this world,
The true art in what I do is gone.
Once it was skill, and knowledge mixed with science that created the still image,
You had to know what an f-stop did, you had to know about depth of field.
Now everyone has a camera, everyone is a photographer,
What I pride myself on, is still striving to be better.
Trying to bring my own life's experiences to my images,
Finding the right people, people with soul, people with hurt inside them.
Encouraging those people to let down their walls,
To cry, to laugh, to be sexy, and sultry, and scary and mean and passionate for my lens.
To reveal themselves, sometimes for the first time ever, sometimes for the last time ever,
Some reveal their hearts, some reveal their bodies, all reveal something.
Because if you think I'll just have you just standing there, you are wrong,
You will be encouraged to let go.
Know that I know my art, the technical side, the science behind a great shot,
Trust that for a fle
Suicide is no joke.Suicide is no joke. There is no coming back from it. Once you have done it, you are gone. Your pain may be over, but the pain to your family and loved ones will never be over. They will be left with countless questions that will forever be unanswered. If you're in pain, you need to let somebody know. There is no use suffering in silence. If you are suffering through depression, the worst thing you can try to do is beat it on your own. Just remember that there are people out there who love you and care for you. Even if you only have one person in your life who cares, that is still one person that would be devastated if you were no longer here.
Suicide is a very final way to deal with life's issues. It is a dark and permanent solution to potentially short term problems. All I ask is for you to stop and think. There is always a solution to your problems. There is always someone out there who can help you. Never think that you're alone because you are not. Some people may understand a lot
It's Too Late When We DieIf you want to die then fine, go die
But before you go, think
Think about every dream you've dreamed
Think about every star you've wished upon
Think about every desire that has ever coursed through your veins
Everyone of those things could become true
Everyone of those things could become a reality
If you go pack you bags now
You will be packing nothing but pain
You will leave this place with nothing but your suffering
So fight, fight everyday
Pour fire into your heart
Harness the hurt
Control the memories
And leave this world old and grey
And leave this world carrying happiness
Don't ever give up because,
It's too late when we die..
TendernessHer name was Tenderness. Blue used to call her this way because she was very cute, very lovely, and when Blue saw her the first time, the first emotion he felt was Tenderness. Tenderness was a young paintress, very very talented. Her art was different: she didn't paint with a brush, she painted with her heart! Her colours were her emotions, and her canvas was her soul. Every painting made by her was a masterpiece, a piece of herself consacreted in an eternal work of art. Her paintings were the mirror of herself: soft, delicate...and beautiful!
Tenderness is a very talented paintress! Tenderness paints with heart and soul! Tenderness probably is looking for perfection in this imperfect world! Tenderness is Artist and Muse at the same time!
Someone SpecialHe sat alone at the train station. Every day, he remained... At the same time, in the same seat, with the same book. His hands never tried to turn to the next page, not even once...
I asked what he was reading. There was no answer. Only the same cold, stoic gaze... Creeping through my retinas. Locked together. No hellos, no goodbyes. Just dark eyes, regarding me with mirthful disdain.
I wanted dearly to break him from his painful reverie... But I eventually realized, no one could do that for him. He had to do it himself... And the timing wasn't right. I could wait for him forever, it wouldn't make the slightest difference...
All of the trains were late... That day, and every day.
I whispered... "I tried."
He whispered back... "It doesn't matter..."
Those three words; each of them a dagger, forever slicing. And I walked away, immortal wounds dripping crimson from my chest...
Discovery of Titanic On this day in Nineteen-Hundred and Eighty-Five, the great black seas of the North Atlantic were parted by crafts never before seen in this realm. They plunged beneath the surface of the waves, beneath the rolling tide, and as they descended, the sea became dimmer, and dimmer....and dimmer still until all grew black and infinite. The lights from the craft shone upon the strangest of fishes, and many waves of small plankton-creatures glazed past the windows, and on to their way in this strange and ethereal world.
Down, down, down....farther still. Then, with a soft 'plunk', the craft lands upon the sea floor. The white Atlantic sand drifts up in waves, floating in the water like smoke. Drifting around and away. The lights shine on this world, but they do not show much. The ocean is too vast, to immense for them to illumine much. The fishes dart back and forth, curious as to who this intruder really is. They have never seen anything like it in all th
DreamHer name was Dream! Well, to be honest that wasn't her real name: Blue used to call her this way because she was like a Dream. Blue never met such an amzing, intelligent, talented and deep person! Too good to be true...a Dream. But Dream was real!! Dream was one of the greatest poetess of our times. She was a sort of source of inspiration! She was sweet, she was polite...she was a beautiful human being. I'm sure her smile was a sort of shining sun, warm and beautiful! Her face was the representation of sweetness, and her soul was, how to say, the reflection of humanity! Dream was suffering, but despite the suffering, she always comforted the others! Dream was an extraordinary girl! Dream is a living dream!
Dream is a great artist! Dream is an extraordinary girl! Dream is a living beautiful dream! Dream is all the good in this world!!!
In This SpaceMy favorite space in the entire world is the space between my window and my bed, only separated by the brown Chester Drawer that was painted canvas white and now chips away to show tidbits of the chestnut brown. This is my favorite space. A cage between the pages of my sketchbook; torn out. Here, it’s just far enough from you. I can see the smile on your face. And the emptiness in your eyes. I can see how they’ll never match one another again. And it makes me wonder if you can hear me breathing too heavy in order to make myself faint.
This space in between my bed and my window is as big as the space in between your eyes. And I wonder if you can see right through me. Or do you just not pay attention to the sundry voices in my head. In this space, I sat down and watched the rain break the glass. This space is where I watched the ants trail in through the hole in the window’s net. I fed them bread crumbs from my sandwich. Until they infested the spot and expected a yard
FelicityHer name was Felicity! They used to call her this way because she seemed to be always happy. Felicity was a nice girl, very funny and always ready to make you laugh. But Felicity hasn't been always happy. In the past she suffered, we don't know why, we don't know how, but she suffered. Fortunately Felicity doesn't suffer anymore. She's better than she thinks! Felicity loves to watch tv series, probably because she likes to get lost in a world of fantasy, where all the sorrows of the life don't exist. Felicity is a good friend. I think that Felicity is a dreamer too!
Felicity is a young girl who suffered. Felicity is happy now! Felicity loves tv series! Felicity is the need to escape from this world, but also the life that goes on!
Stranger Season 02 - part 1(9)SEASON 2
Anyways before you read in this story,there can be with sexual or/and violence parts.And include Gay parts.
He were gone…
for 3 months
i didn’t seen Fabian anywhere,he was skipping the school.
I was getting worried…maybe something happened to my weird new….friend..?
Where is he..? Is he okay..?
so many questions in my mind.
My test..? haha i failed…of course....And teacher was forced to call my parents..now i can’t go hang on anywhere…
No friends.school problems...everything usual…
i was missing Fabi,these black eyes,silly sounds,and each new thing i was learning about him.
When my parents didn’t seen,i was walking out again…the sea,the forest ..everything was almos
$2 bag of candyYou can be here for just one second,
Go flush for a moment when you look into my eyes.
Your heart can get stolen for $2 bag of candy,
And you pants can come down for just one of my smiles.
Endless roads that take us nowhere,
There is nowhere we'd rather be.
Fairy lights on the dashboard of my car,
And promises of the things we'll do on the backseat.
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More