Comments Posted By Kshemani
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how could they play if they do not understand. they are children, they do not understand reverberations or the vibrations of the waves. They know now where the buttons lead, what chords they pull. They just know the music. And for God’s sake, how they play. Oh they play.
» Posted By Kshemani On 02.07.2015 @ 1:31 pm
It’s not fair that any one person should have such an advantage over the other.
‘Leverage’ he calls it.
I call it blackmail.
He holds it over my head, near the tip of my nose like a carrot.
I remember a song lyric from my youth, a distant memory of Bono hissing, “Gimme what I want, and no one gets hurt.”
Except in this situation, either way I get hurt.
The question is who I take along with me.
» Posted By Kshemani On 04.15.2013 @ 7:23 pm
They try to make you into something you’re not. They try to instil within you that which you already know isn’t true. They hold on to your jaw and force feed you all that they want you to believe. They erase your mind, they morph your soul. At first you try to resist, but after a while, you just get tired and give in. Because lying is easier that being true to yourself.
» Posted By Kshemani On 03.02.2013 @ 12:35 pm
There are knocks at the door that have people gasping and springing out of their seats to see what exactly is going on. Some knocks bring good news. Some bring bad. Some knocks will get your husband arrested hours after he has finally been released from prison in Paris. These knocks will cause tears and heartbreaks, but also resolutions in the end.
» Posted By Kshemani On 02.27.2013 @ 12:25 pm
They trap me. I don’t have to see the harnesses they put upon me, I feel them. Is that not enough? My feeling of claustrophobia and fear and my knowledge of this entrapping world?
Is that not enough for you to believe me?
» Posted By Kshemani On 07.02.2012 @ 10:29 pm
I love roller coasters. They move. That is motion, right? I love being surprised and scared and ecstatic at the same time.
But then in real life, change scares me. Moving from one place to another, changing from one state of mind to another, all that motion terrifies me.
» Posted By Kshemani On 07.01.2012 @ 12:37 pm
I get chills every time I listen to that damn song. There is nothing sweet or pure about it. It’s gritty and dark and primal and pulsing, nothing like the perky person I am everyday. But that song is magical, and it makes me someone totally different. Someone who sits on a balcony at two am with a cigarette in one hand, and an iPod in the other with the volume turned up as high as it can go.
» Posted By Kshemani On 06.30.2012 @ 4:26 pm
Why does everything have to be so hard. It’s like, he does it on purpose. He is intentionally perfect just do that I can know exactly what I don’t have. This is beyond a hassle, beyond annoying. There are no words for this.
» Posted By Kshemani On 05.31.2012 @ 7:59 pm
Her lips were dry and chapped. There was no point licking them with her sandpaper tongue. she hadn’t hat water for days and she was sure she didn’t have long to live. The sky was frighteningly vivid, in a colour she would have once admired. Not today. Today the hot sun and the wretched desert would kill her.
» Posted By Kshemani On 04.24.2012 @ 11:30 pm
Residue. It is what is left behind. All is done now, the house sleeps. The residue remains. The residue sobs quiet tears and waits to be brushed away in a fit of disgust. The residue cries. The unwanted. The outsider.
» Posted By Kshemani On 03.23.2012 @ 1:46 pm
She couldn’t breathe. Well, she could breathe, but just barely.
It had all happened so fast. She was walking home after an exhausting day when she had been grabbed. A hand covered her mouth and nose and she was shoved into the trunk of the nondescript car parked nearby.
What would happen now?
» Posted By Kshemani On 03.22.2012 @ 5:26 pm
Why do we care so much about what people think? Why are we obsessed with what they would rate us in their minds. We are not movies or restaurants or anything of the sort. We are people whose beauty should not be defined by a magazine and whose intelligence should not be defined by an IQ test.
» Posted By Kshemani On 03.20.2012 @ 3:42 pm
Their it was, all the pageantry that was left for us to partake in.
“They’re announcing prom queen,” someone told me, grabbing me by the elbow.
As if I cared. I looked around for the guy I came with, wishing more and more that I had the courage to say no to him when he had asked.
Oh what had I done to deserve it.
» Posted By Kshemani On 03.19.2012 @ 7:50 pm
There are small things that you can trip on. A wire. A random rope. A hamster, if it’s owner was rather careless. But a staple? I mean, a stapler is understandable, but a staple? That’s ridiculous. And even more so because I denied it afterwards, though in plain sight. My lack of equilibrium is just sad.
» Posted By Kshemani On 03.17.2012 @ 11:18 am
Nobody quite likes the same things i=I do. Everyone goes for the rich, seductive reds, or the regal, confident blue. Some, more daring than others, will veer towards the short, fully sequinned number.
I however, fall for the simple, knee length dress, the one that makes me nostalgic of windy days at the beach in summers past. With its dropped neckline and pale pastel hues, it’s beautiful. Just not in the way they would recognize,
» Posted By Kshemani On 03.16.2012 @ 1:23 pm
There is too much repetition. The truth is, we are all in a rut. Like, as a species. We are in this cycle, this pattern if you will, where all it is is a chase to see who can come up with what first. We want to develop into something better, we want to evolve. But in that desperate chase for something new, we’re repeating what we have for thousands of years. We just need to slow down.
» Posted By Kshemani On 03.15.2012 @ 10:20 pm
For the duration of the exam, I was supposed to keep myself quiet and surreptitious, so as not to bother anyone.
Someone gasped, and I could virtually hear the eureka in their mind. Or was it the sound of a light bulb going off.
Someone sighed, and then handed up their exam anyway. I bit my lip, sharing in their frustration.
» Posted By Kshemani On 03.14.2012 @ 11:47 am
No one believes me. That’s the problem. No one thinks that this, what they love so much, has this darker angrier side to it. No one thinks that it could partake in this evil.
“Sign the petition,” I plead, but everyone just glances at the pitch, frowns, and walks away.
» Posted By Kshemani On 03.13.2012 @ 12:50 pm
He had no belief in me.
He sincerely thought that I was going to mess it up. How could he?
No. I would prove him wrong if it was the last thing I did. It just might be.
Red wire to blue, blue to light green.
All done. It would detonate in five minutes, and no one would suspect either of us. How’s that for professional? He would never doubt me again.
» Posted By Kshemani On 03.12.2012 @ 11:50 am
Three bins. Why is it so hard. I see them all around me, after they’ve done slurping their drinks in their terrible paper cups, they chuck them out in the bin that was meant for everything else. They don’t care and why would they? They have nothing to look forward to, nothing to want. I do. I have the audacity to dream, and to throw out the paper cup in the bin it belongs to.
» Posted By Kshemani On 03.11.2012 @ 11:39 am
The fries were as greasy as they were supposed to be. She was finally in her element, standing over a deep fryer that smelled like fat and a grill that had been charred black over the years. She glanced around at the other fry cook, who was sweating up a storm, and leaned over to grab the spatula. She smiled to herself.
» Posted By Kshemani On 03.10.2012 @ 3:01 pm
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Their cold eyes pierced mine and they looked at my unfinished work heartlessly.
“I-I’m not done,” I muttered apologetically, struggling under their glares.
» Posted By Kshemani On 03.09.2012 @ 7:12 pm