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ShipsPassing ships. I think thats the term used most appropriately. To describe our brief encounter. Our quick lesion. Romantic language for confused feelings of body and heart. A passionate beginning of words and lips, passed and flowed through. Soon the sea grew, complex ocean of currents uncharted. For me at least. The north, the city of pink grey stone confusion of morals I found hard to anchor. I thought wed settle happily into the mariner. But no. A storm of interest, but yours whimpered in the wind, dissolved and dissipated. A brief moment passed as I was left stranded, trapped in sea weed entrails and coils complex. Emotions for the ship that passed me in a brief encounter of quick intentions. Gone with the wind, rather than constant like salt and rock, hard and concrete.
A DestinationYou were the upgraded copy, the richer version, the easy distraction. Id been consumed for hours over the alluded obsession, the favored stature that was a stranger to my tastes. Id thought and Id concluded, escapism or a plan, either to satisfy.
A plan set in motion, a destination. A train, another, a wait, and you. I came for the other, but found my eyes wondering. In that silver, those jeans, that voice. An escape and an excuse. Easy, no? The right moment, the right place, the right hour. The alcohol and the dress. Why not? I could have this version, this smile, this stature.
Why not indeed. A bad idea, a mistaken moment, a plan unraveled in pleasure and excitement, hurt pride and bruised ecstasy. Youth and naivety, for me. You werent what I wanted, even though I repeated it many times. I used your carbon copy aesthetic as much as you used my easy, drunken attitude. It was one night dragged over three days. I latched on to the version that let me,
ObsessionObsession. Its an easy thing to fall into, and an even harder hole to escape.
I liked you once. Quite a lot actually. Despite the fact that my best interests told me you were a bad idea. Your texture didnt suit my tastes, your stature was nothing I ever thought Id favor. And yet I fell after you happily, made a fool of myself mostly.
Its gone now. I found closure in a drunken night and a single bed. In spilled words of oppressed months, inappropriate affection and rejected touch. It was awkward, embarrassing, but satisfying. And then there was the exhibition and the appropriate obsession. And yet, I still like to think.
Your name makes me turn my head, your silhouette and sound will always make me listen. Its hard to completely remove myself from the half whole I once so happily sat in, wallowed in, and would have drowned in. A beguiling puddle of self pity and complete and alluded infatuation.
Im still jealous, with no reason to be. I still reminisce on things that n
Chronicle of a Past WinterThere has been only a few moments in my life where I have truly felt alive. The following bit of writing is a small chronicle detailing one of those events:
Four years ago this December, I was a very different person than the person who sits here writing this today. I was 16 and a junior at a local high school. I was skinny as a twig after lots of weight in during the previous year.
The year had been up and down. I had fallen in and out of love with a girl who was more confusing than a rubik's cube. A month after our break up, I lost my grandpa. He had always been an inspiration to me and he had always shown me how powerful knowledge really can be. I want to be the kind of man he was and I will never forget the impact he had on my life. Somehow in all of it I managed to stay sane and grind my way through day-by-day and month-by-month.
The first four months of school flew by fast. My Chinese improved rapidly as I took up as a teacher's assistant with my Chinese teacher. I was att
Cat, out of the bagHello, friends of friends!
I'm :iconcopper9lives: — AKA Catherine, Cat, Copper, Cfisch, and various other sobriquets. I'm a proud redhead, veterinarian, crazy cat lady, and lifelong devotee of the sea.
In all things, I seek balance. I'm friendly, talkative, and love to be generous. I also tend to overcommit myself. Ah, well.
Aging by copper9lives
I take photographs (because I cannot draw):
Lake Interference by copper9livesPurple Mountain Majesty by copper9livesElkhorn by copper9livesGriffin by copper9livesDiffidence by copper9livesGlowing Forest by copper9livesThe Horseshoe Falls by copper9livesEscher by copper9livesSuncatcher by copper9livesStatement by copper9livesLonely by copper9livesClose by copper9livesComplimentary Colors by copper9lives
And I dabble
The SunflowerMy grandpa had a garden
It was the most magical thing I had ever known
And is probably the reason I love nature so much now
When I was little, he would take me outside to his fields, where rows of beautiful flowers, plump tomatoes, and so much more were planted in straight rows. Behind that was a green patch where an Indian tribe had made their home for what seemed like a very, very long time. We found arrow heads scattered almost everywhere, and even the occasional bone or two. Nearly all of my childhood memories resided in his yard. Well, either there or his kitchen. But thats a different story
I remember going to the store with him, hand in hand. We picked out seeds for the years crops. He would get the seeds packs he needed, and I got the seeds packs that had pictures I didn't know, because "I wanted to see every plant that ever existed." My words exactly. My grandpa would laugh and tell me there was way to many plants for that kind of dream, but I still wanted to try. I had always
Singer and PlayerGuitar Playing
" Baby I'm going to leave you"
Maybe I don't understand subtle.
But I sang your tunes
Listened to your blues.
Sometimes, making music
was the only way I could talk to you
the ache in my heart was so loud
that I thought you had plucked it out,
and played with my veins
the most beautiful melody
but would never let me hear it
I wonder constantly
What am I supposed to do?
But I still sang
like a little caged bird
trapped in the hollow of your guitar.
Sun and MoonSome days I can't sleep
Smell your cologne in my sleep
Remember my childish squealing
Remember that now I'm still healing
From the cigarette burns,
that you left on my heart,
From the pills that were left in me
Poison from the start.
Do you remember,
the first time we met?
Eyes across the hallway
and the beating of my heart
Just like your guitar
and the squealing of the
children around you.
Oh the irony
Maybe I'll tell you one day.
But did you count
every day that went by?
because I know that I counted
every sleepless night
When I wondered where you'd gone
and if you were alright.
And the what if's that drove me crazy
and your motives that were unknown.
I swear I'm coming to California,
as soon as I get home.
If we'll still be able to get along.
Even if the time difference
is so wrong.
Can we still get tattooed?
If I don't speak to you.
If I can't trust you.
And the future
is so bright
Like the way I
Togliere il disturboNon fu straordinaria, speciale;
fu una storia come tante altre,
eppure merita d'esser scritta,
e stavolta almeno non per gli occhi di tutti.
Si vide e pensò che era ora di avere di più; subito rifletté e concluse che quel "di più" così vago aveva poco senso ma il solo averlo pensato le fece assaggiare la disperazione di ciò che non aveva e dentro di lei creava continue assenze che, seppur invisibili a chi le stava intorno, non lasciavano mai del tutto il suo sguardo che spesso puntava al nulla che le sembrava sempre troppo lontano.
Nel giro di pochi mesi, le sue condizioni divennero però manifeste e non poté nasconderle; la sua capacità di dissimulare divenne così flebile, tanto quanto la sua forza di inghiottire l'aria; si sentiva soffocare; letteralmente.
Preoccupati, più per educazione che per affetto, chi le stava accanto si prodigò affinché fosse curata; chi la visitò disse che in lei
dos.Was bisher geschah? Fassen wir einmal die Ereignisse zusammen. Schön der Reihe nach. Das ist die Geschichte von Julia Jubel und Grosha Griesgram. Julia Jubel hiess Julia zum Vornamen, weil sie so schön war und Jubel zum Nachnamen, weil alle in Jubel ausbrachen wegen ihrer Schönheit. Grosha Griesgram hiess zum Vornamen Grosha; dies war eigentlich ein Fehler, denn es war der Nachname seiner Eltern. Da er aber den Nachnamen seiner Familie schon im Vornamen verbraucht hatte, musste ein neuer Nachname her. Und da er seiner angebeteten Julia so viel Gram bereitete, wurde er Griesgram genannt. Er war ein erbitterter Verfechter einer verlorenen Welt.
Der Held verreist mit der Angebeteten für kurze Zeit – zwei Tage und zwei Nächte – in einen Winterferienort. Es ist das Paradies für ihn, wenn er sie vierundzwanzig Stunden am Tag um sich herum flattern haben kann. Zu diesem Zeitpunkt weiss sie allerdings noch nichts von seinen Gefühlen; es ist aber m
The rise and fall of FishlFingerFishlfinger made his account 4 months ago, He had one goal, to become a artist, but he did not have the skills. So he decided to use his current art skills to make art. Day after Day he gained followers, accumulating about 15. It was a great rise until he got into a argument. He drew karkat and it was good. He then was scared, terrified even. He went to sleep knowing he was going to be a good artist. The next day his artist skills were gone, but he was sicken by his previous art, like he was a different person. He took to purging his art, putting it into storage. Which only he will know of his sin. He will be back, when he has atleast some art skills.
Captain's Log, Entry One This is my story. It shall include a bit of fantasy, a bit of creativity, and a bit of real life. Just like me.
Captain's Log, Entry One.
Today, 5 things happened in my life.
1, I realized I was not alone. I have family and friends who support me.
2, I am a derp. Maybe it is the awkward phase that I am passing through. Or maybe I will stay awkward for the rest of my days. I certainly hope not, although it is possible.
3, I was spat upon by a Candyfluffle . He was not pleased with me, and I really do have rainbow-stained hands.
D, I realized life is so short. Too short. I believe that even though life is short, and it is not as long as ALL OF THE FUTURE AND ALL OF THE PAST and that every second is fleeting and a passing vapor in the wind. ( I get too poetic) So, I know now that I need to make the most o
Stream of Consciousness IHot water, yellow walls, yellow tops, giraffes, penguins. Purple shirts and cadged squirrels. Blue eyes, and messy hair. Burst balloons, scissors and inappropriate behavior. Waiting, anticipating. Cheap wine and loosened tongues. Orange, doctors, tenants and hills, smells.
We indulge, publicly, inappropriately, insultingly, without care or consideration. Disgusting affection. Tongue, lips, ears, nose.
We indulge in our laughter and words, alcohol and kisses.
Sober, little sleep. Big head phones and bigger suitcases. Coffee, morning, newspapers. White walls and carved tables. Shy kisses, lips, tongue, nose. Good byes, and promises in given books.
You are the one I dreamed of. But dont I always dream and fall easily? At least this time my obsession was picked more appropriately.
Swaying walls, blue light. Bed and towels, dripping skin. Sweat or water? Beating heart and pumping pulse, legs and arms and loud in my ears. Sleepy eyes and captured thoughts. Too much time to s
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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