• wrote a new post, content 15 hours, 42 minutes ago

    • lack of or happy
      whats in it or whats in made of
      two letters away from a land mass
      where people live
      that are not
      with anything
      and yet
      they still keep
      making babies

    • You might think someone is content, but a lot of times you never know what lurks beyond the surface. The self-hate, the self-destruction. It normally is just below what you think true content-ness should look like. We are masters of our own happiness so why don’t we let ourselves.

    • are you satisfied?
      or are you stuck?
      is this just a play where are merely actors
      or has shakespeare truly created our world
      is this a tragedy or a comedy?

      will our questions ever be answered?
      or will we sit in the grey area?
      nothing is ever black and white.

    • It is often so very difficult for us to feel “content” in life. We typically are scared when we have become stable in a situation as we constantly feel as though we should be doing more. There is nothing wrong with the feeling of contentment and perhaps this is what we should all be striving for in the world today. Society is too focused on the next life goal, purchase, or new fad—maybe what we need to focus on is being comfortable with saying “I am in control, I am content, and I am not worried about all of the unknowns ahead.”

    • Which content. The tent that was conned? I don’t know. Maybe it was conned, maybe it wasn’t. How about the contents of a person. Are they put together like a well prepared meal, or a garden, how about a society? Is a person’s contents made form those of the society around them?

    • you can see it in her eyes, she is feeling loved and content. Its written in her every line on her lovely old wrinkly face …. the ages of life being kind to her

    • The faintest breath of a relieved whisper, the tiniest heart-shaped freckle curled around his lowering lashes, and the deep scars sprinkled across his calloused, rough hands – she memorizes each detail of him before she has to leave.

      “I love you,” she manages to choke out into the stock still, hanging air draped around them both.

      His unconscious response is to only further tangle his long, long fingers into the waterfalling locks of her straw-golden hair. A tiny puff of contentment escapes his rosy lips, and he ensnares them even more together by throwing a heavy leg across hers, snuggling in closer to her radiating heat.

      She glares bittersweetly at his carefree, casual, laid-back composure, knowing fully well that the more he wraps her into his arms, the harder it’ll be for her to forcibly throw her aching legs over the side of the bed and simply leave.

      But then a sly grin breaks apart his peaceful sleeping face. It’s on purpose.

      She needs to tell him before he thinks he can stop her, “I still have to leave, no matter what you do to stop me.”

      The goofy, lopsided, mischievous smile drops off his face, and his snow-sprinkled lashes fly open.

    • He breathes out contently, “I love you, I love you, Iloveyou!”

      He softly rests his nose top her twisting caramel tresses and steadily wraps his arms around her long neck. He knows exactly where each curve and dip of her body appears, where tiny little quirks happen upon themselves, and where he needs to places his soft, velvety hands on.

      He bumps their parted lips together for a stone-cold kiss. His eyes are shut tight every time he their frosted lips touch, and he supposes hers are as well.

      After all, she isn’t real.

    • “They’re not real!” his frustrated arms only add to his every-growing, furious stance towering above her small frame.

      But she pursues forward, her latest book strapped tightly within her whitening palms. You gotta fight for what you believe in, after all, right? “So what if they’re not ‘real’! They’re still more real to me than anyone else will be!”

      At once, he stops coldly.

      A smooth glare points in her direction. She withers under his obvious contemptment, her mind racing back to everything said in the past minutes. But nothing came up as particularly offensive so why was he –

      He turns around, even more suddenly than when he dropped his angry posture. “I’m real, Rose.”

      Then he pivots on his clicking heels and exits the room, proud and dignified.

    • ‘content’ is only the thinning layer barely holding together falling pieces by a slowly loosening string

    • All I can think is contentious. Doesn’t that mean argumentative, challenging, difficult, annoying, not your favorite house guest? The dictionary check says, “Yes, that’s what it means. You’re right, you’re so smart, you’re super terrific, I’m proud of you.” That’s me, these days, inside my brain, inside my heart. Needing praise. Contentious. Spilling over outloud with curse words for my fellow drivers here on Oahu. When I’m the menace on the highways.
      Oh well, enough said.

    • It’s raining outside. It’s the first week of December, the air is flirting with 50 Fahrenheit, and the pavement is as soaked as summer. Hazy rainbows cloak every streetlight and every car hisses past like an oceanic sigh. Behind us, through cracked-open screens, the rich warm aroma of steak and marinade lazily drifts, in jovial defiance of the encroaching cold. Christmas lights swirl about the porch, entwining with well-worn wood– aged, luminous, mist-touched. Our arms do the same. Content in quiet wintry perfection, life ebbs and flows all around us. It’s raining outside.

    • some are not content with the amount of content
      it can feel intense to take on collective intents
      an unseen comet hidden in an unexpected comment

    • とんでもない


  • wrote a new post, malice 1 day, 15 hours ago

    • The 8 year old boy named Rex walked into his classroom full of malice bullies. His feet are shaking and doesn’t know how to stop them. He walks to his seat but looks like a baby deer trying to walk. Then all of a sudden the malice bullies get up and are headed to him.

    • “If we can’t prove that he had malice aforethought, we can’t prove he’s our killer. It’s that simple.”

    • Malice. We are all filled with it from time to time like time itself we get filled with that, and like time also it is ours to do with when it is there. A malicious statement is like a pent in dog with nothing else it can do than bark at the neighbourhood.

    • the child forced upon a chalice
      full of bubbling red malice
      he drank until pallid
      his soul turned callous
      next step: madness

    • I had malice burning in my veins. I wanted to watch the world burn, I wanted to be the last person alive. I wanted to watch the weak collapse and the strong rise above. I wanted world domination. It was supposed to be perfect, it was going to be the end of time. I was going to end it all. That was until the person you’d least expect stopped me from doing so.

    • The sweetest person you’ve ever met in your entire goddamn life, you swear, has blonde hair and brown eyes and a smile that could melt puppies, probably. Into their atoms. Stunning. You fall instantly in love, and it’s not that you don’t notice the weird blue tongue or the scaly palms; you just don’t care.

    • i know that it’s the right thing for both of us and that neither of us is in a position to be in a relationship right now but i’m so broken up about it–broken up. ha. anyway, malice. there’s no malice behind any of it, but it doesn’t help to make me feel any less alone. i don’t belong to anyone, my heart is heavy as an oil drum.

    • how can girls be so malicous
      so ficticous
      so vindictive
      towards girls they hope to call sisters
      how can girls not act like what they say they believe in
      make promises they can’t pull through in
      get a guys hopes up and then leave him

    • he once told me
      “malice is my middle name” with a smirk formed on his lips and a deep sparkle in his eyes
      i believed him when he said it
      for i was young and vulnerable
      and would have never guessed the evil vines that wrapped around his heart
      spoiling all of his good intentions

    • Malice filled my soul as I looked over her. Her long legs were sprawled over him, but why couldn’t she see? He’s mine. He’s always been mine.

    • malice grew deep inside his bones
      it spread like wildfire within him
      yet i chose to ignore this
      for i initially did not know of the wrong he could do
      instead of walking away as i should have
      i loved him with all of my innocence

    • She couldn’t stand it. The rage, the malice, was traveling up her arms and into the blood pooling around her heart. She drew it in, breathing, coalesced it into a ball, and flung it back at her offender, at this unseen entitiy that thought It could attack her, that thought It could ruin her life like this. No one would do that and get away with it. The blood, rushing through the air, formed into a bullet, and hit It in the side.

    • With no malice, with no regret, and without a care in the world, I sincerely wish you a happy life. I do. I hold no grudges, I hold no bars, and I hold no cards in my hand. Really, enjoy.

      The letter cut her right between the bone and her muscle.

    • Why is this the only prompt available right now? Is this it? Damn. Do they change prompts, and if so, when? ERGHHHHHHHHH! Jesus Christ and a side of gravy!

    • “Aforethought” but no one needs to have forethought to hate; in fact, malice and hate (intentional, directed hate) are emotional qualities, instinctive valences of the human condition. With malice one makes snap decisions; crimes of passion are also crimes of malice. Malice is a flash in the eye, a glimmer not of recognition but of othering, a flash of alienation and defense of the isolated self.

    • Chatting on-line. Shared opinions all fulll of excitement & hope. Until someone has a different experience than yours and then, it’s bring out the knives! lets take off her head! bloddy know it all old timer.

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