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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
a small tidbit of a personal pieceprompt: talk about a place you love, conveying your peace with it without outright saying that you love it.
I have three lamps in my room, and two of them are hardly very bright. Both sort of cast everything (except for the cluttered corners) into a soft glow. The other only works when it's dark outside and the other lights are off. It throws everything into a blue-ish glow and somehow makes it feel like a place faeries would escape to.
The bookshelf is small, but it's enough to fit my favourite books and memories. The walls and ceiling are painted blue and green and are covered in posters and art and doodles so I can't see enough of the colours to regret the crappy decorating job I did as a kid. My blankets are soft enough for my cat to sit on and he smells like sugar cookies and looks like home so I'm happy if he is. The desk is covered in marker that bled through my paper and paint that I couldn't get to stay on the page.
Sometimes it's sil
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
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
Bawling BrawlYou're a bully. A pathetic nuisance like any other.
From an early age, you slammed me down,
and I didn't even realize that it was you doing it.
You were subtle and I wasn't being strong because I didn't have a reason to be.
I got sick of you fast. I refused you.
You don't deserve to be a part of my life.
And you think I'll forgive you?
No matter how many times you ask,
plead, beg, cry, whine, scream, and yell,
you will never be a part of me because
I am stronger than you,
I am wiser than you, and
I can play your game.
You want to kill me.
You hate me. Now?
I hate you.
I want you dead.
I choose to live.
I choose to fight.
I want you dead.
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
Weekly DiaryWeekly Update
As the "Project Introduction" suggests, I will participate at my level best to stay active on this website. And as I was previously thinking, what better way to do that than to post a written entry each week, reflecting on happenings.
Well, what else is there over drawing something?
Continuing from last week, I’ve been able to notice several facts on this continent and actually living here. I think the beach is an absolute stunning view and I am passionate in this warm weather all year around. However, I feel out of my element. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been raised up north or perhaps it’s because I have no family here. I have my doubts that the second reason involves this thought but I am not believing this area to be a suitable settlement for me in the future. I really think Lee is feeling the same way, being so out of her element here. But being in such a relaxing area is a fantastic place
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
PancakesMy grandpa was a cook in the navy
Every morning when I was over, he would make me MnM pancakes from scratch. Yeah, they always got a little burnt, but that was fine. While he cooked, he told me stories of his days in the navy. I would sit on a little chair next to the griddle he used to make the pancakes, listening intently and eating the leftover MnMs. Every story made my laugh, and he would laugh with me. He could make every situation seem funny, and thats one thing I admired about him; he loved to make people laugh and did it easily. Then he would get the pancakes off the griddle and put them on my plate, pouring syrup on each one to look like a smiley face. He would watch me eat, asking how they tasted after each bite to make me giggle. After I was done, he lifted me up so I could reach the sink, washing the syrup off my face and off my plate. We then walked out to the garden, bringing the same little chair so I could watch him work. This went on for years.
But then my grandpa star
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
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