Comments Posted By Gullsy_
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They threw me away. It was over. Everything. I breathed in deeply, trying to quell my emotions that were stirring beneath the surface. My brow furrowed in pain. Everything was becoming too much.
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 11.04.2012 @ 4:21 pm
Don’t want to breathe, can’t breathe, won’t breathe. I feel my body convulsing. It’s not as bad as they said it would be.
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 08.26.2012 @ 8:21 pm
We fell together, the fingers of my right hand intertwined with his left. I dimly wondered if this would be the last time I would see him.
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 08.01.2012 @ 12:49 pm
I kept fiddling with the dials, waiting for something within me to click; waiting for something to feel right.
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 06.27.2012 @ 3:15 pm
I ran my hand over the sheet of paper, smoothing out the wrinkles. My hand blurred in front of my eyes, left a pink mark over the poster.
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 04.26.2012 @ 5:56 pm
I put my new shades on. I looked good. Really good. Like, ‘damn, I wish I was her’ good. I looked at my reflection on the tinted car window and smiled seductively. The window rolled down and a man gave me a weird look. I choked on an intake of breath and apologized as my face flushed. This will make a great story later; I could feel it in my bones.
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 04.18.2012 @ 11:43 am
The cold was seeping into his bones. It was making him sluggish, the sharp stinging turning into a dull ache. His eyelids drooped, his breathing slowed; the will for living lost. Where she touched his arm hurt, her warm hands too much for his frigid skin. She reached out instinctively, mournfully and touched him again, her hands begging him not to leave. In response his heart drummed a painful tattoo against his chest, his blood pumping eagerly through his veins. He opened his eyes. A sickly grin played at the corners of his chapped lips. “I won’t go,” he croaked with much effort, “I couldn’t bear the thought of you alone.”
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 04.05.2012 @ 1:31 pm
She stood in a field of wheat, its tips tickling her shoulders. Her net held at the ready, her hat tipped at a cocky angle, she swung her net over her head. Time and time again, she succeeded in capturing the hazy sunlight that was everywhere. She placed her net down in the field gently, light blazing in every direction. She breathed sunlight and exhaled radiance.
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 03.28.2012 @ 4:54 am
She looked down on him coolly. Frost glazed her blind eyes, her voice was like frigid. “What even gave you the idea that we could be in a serious relationship?” she hissed, her lips numb with unfeeling. Ice surrounded and embittered her heart once more.
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 03.25.2012 @ 3:15 pm
Her golden locks were tied in a lose bun, rebellious strands curling down her neck. She was framed by a window which tenderly caught her reflection. She had ivory skin and emerald eyes framed by thick lashes. Her small, pink lips were curved upwards. Her laugh was like birdsong: fresh and sweet.
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 03.24.2012 @ 8:00 pm
I rub the thin, oily substance between my fingers while looking at my painting. The work in progress has a dull shine to it and has a sour scent. Is it possible I used olive oil to paint with? With an air of vague confusion, I drop my wet paintbrush into my not-quite-empty coffee cup and take a step back.
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 03.23.2012 @ 3:38 pm
Starting from the early age of two, the star was his. On his grass-stained shirt, his sticky cheeks, his crushed papers. The star was always there, its shine more than a match for him. As he grew older he changed. From his starched, clean shirt, his rough, prickly cheeks, and his immaculate papers; he was different, he was new. His eyes were bland moss. But when he laid eyes on her his heart expanded, his palms grew sweaty, his eyes grew brighter, always brighter. His star started to pale in comparison to him.
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 03.20.2012 @ 12:39 pm
Why does anyone bother to judge people on their superficial beauty rather than on who they are as a person? It’s completely ridiculous. I don’t understand why people do these things, why people would sign up for it. Why would anyone want to be taken at face value? Within thirty years — twenty years, even — they will be aged and different. By judging them on their beauty, one is ensuring them as worthless later in their lives.
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 03.20.2012 @ 9:45 am
My fingers twitch as hot wax drips onto them. I wince in annoyance rather than pain. This doesn’t fit my job description. I’m not supposed to be here, doing this, whatever THIS is. The fire eventually gutters out. Smoke rises from the torch and curls towards the ceiling in thin, wispy movements. A thick, cloying scent of.. burnt? A thick cloying scent of burnt someth– no wait, it’s my–? A thick clowing scent of burnt hair encompasses me. Great.
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 03.18.2012 @ 2:22 pm
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Caught between my fingers. It’s hard. It’s cold. It chills me past my skin, my nerves, my bones. It chills me to the very fibre of my being. I have a line of them up my spine. Skin puckered and red. The pain is blinding. I can’t remember what happened yesterday. I can’t remember what happened today. I only remember pain.
» Posted By Gullsy_ On 03.17.2012 @ 9:25 pm