Comments Posted By deideiblueeyez
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As the words rush out, relief sweeps over me. I never thought that it would feel like this; I always forget, and hate myself for forgetting how -liberating- it is. Talking. Explaining. Relenting. Revealing. My pain. Everything that has happened. The words that have beaten me black and blue are now out in the open, and someone is there to listen and learn, learn what I’ve been keeping inside me until now. A rush of hope. They can help. I just need to explain, to admit my pain. Then it will be all over: The hollow sensation of loneliness, like no one realizes that you’re crying on the inside: The reason why I’m crying is….
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 06.05.2012 @ 7:50 am
The way the fight over land that should be shared equally. The way they promote their deity, their invisible and perhaps non-existent ‘supreme being’ as being ‘the one and only true Lord our God’. The way they cut down anyone who dares ask the important questions: “How do you know?” “What if I don’t believe?” “Why should I believe?” Primitive. Truly primitive.
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 05.10.2012 @ 1:05 pm
The reason I didn’t kill him… Have to think quick, the officer is looking at me. He knows I have no alibi. He knows I’m thinking of one, a lie as to cover up the fact I DID kill him. But he’s waiting for me to commit the sin, to lie to an officer so that I will have to be booked and brought before court. Should I ? Or shouldn’t I?
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 04.30.2012 @ 10:54 am
They are plastered onto my seafoam green walls — a color I had no hand in choosing, I must add. Posters of my favorite anime, Naruto. Gaara at the foot of my bed, staring at the full moon. A picture of Kakashi reading his pervy Icha Icha Paradise book while mindlessly scratching the head of one of his ninja hounds. Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, the Sand Siblings… all characters from my most favorite anime and manga. It is a testament to my devotion to this series, my fandom. I don’t care if it’s nerdy or immature, I am proud to be a fan.
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 04.27.2012 @ 11:04 am
There it was, spread across the wall of her bedroom. Her idol, her hero, her role model: Joyce Clancey (AN: made-up name) . She was independent, she was smart, she was strong, and she wasn’t afraid to say what she felt. Alice pushed her glasses up to her nose; all she was was a shy little book worm, nothing at all like Miss Joyce. But someday.. maybe … if she kept that poster up throughout high school and touched the woman’s portrait everyday before school and before bed.. maybe.. some of her talent may rub off on her.
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 04.27.2012 @ 11:02 am
All he remembered from that one encounter was the earring. Golden hoop with a jade trinket hanging in the middle, slowly rotating like a pendulum whenever she turned her head. Her face was foggy in his memory, but that one glimmering piece of jewllery stood out among the drinks and the hazy smoke of cigars and other narcotics. If only he could see it once more. The next time, he would cut off that ear.
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 04.18.2012 @ 11:02 am
He walked down the street, dressed in black like a shadow. Moving silently, traipsing across the sidewalk to get home. It was getting dark, and beneath his hood he could see a streetlamp flicker on, sending a chain reaction down the street. Almost past curfew; he would have to hurry.
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 04.05.2012 @ 6:05 am
Run, run, run, jump, leap through the air, turn, and land. The judges lift up their cards for judgment: 9, 7, 8, 9, 6. A few boos at the one who held up the 6, but other than that, cheers and enthusiastic clapping from the crowd. They’ve come to watch this perky little sprite show her stuff on the pole vault and the horse, and she has done her best to return their support by giving them the best flips that aerodynamics can provide.
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 04.03.2012 @ 11:19 am
(This one’s gonna suck) …
As the flaming inferno enveloped the tiny town house, a hundred eyes looked on in horror, sick fascination, and wonder. The thing that lit their lamps, cooked their food, and powered their cannons was now an unstoppable force of destruction, consuming that which they had used it to build.
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 04.01.2012 @ 4:29 pm
We’ll wow em, we’ll knock ’em dead, we’ll show em what we’ve got! Our first performance will raise the roof, knock their socks off, tear the house down! Yes, we’ll certainly make a splash, an entrance, be the piece de resistance! All we have to do is sing!
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 03.29.2012 @ 1:40 pm
The artist grips the pencil in a clenched fist. Useless. Trash. Garbage. Destroy it.
For so long, for so looong, he has worked night and day to draw her likeness. From memory. That one glimpse of her angelic face and he was smitten, and the next second committed to a personal vow that he would capture her beautiful visage on paper. But alas, mere graphite and sheets of white paper do not do her justice. The old man sighs, crumples the failure, and begins again. This time, he will certainly achieve a masterpiece worthy to be called the spitting image of her.
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 03.28.2012 @ 5:45 pm
She runs, hoping to escape. He chases, hoping to capture, to ensare, to seize. If only, if only she had longer legs and even much more stamina. But alas, she trips, falls, splatters her face on the wet earth. He has caught up to her, smirking beneath his hood. Dear God, no…
Immediately, he reaches down and grips her by the wrist, hauling her up to her knees.
“My dear, you didn’t possibly think you could escape me, did you?” That smirk..
Sweet Jesus… She knew.. he was to return her to Hell…
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 03.28.2012 @ 5:42 pm
That which binds two or more sheets together; it could also be a metaphor: “He is the staple of our family”. He is the main deal, the thing that, like the thin metal wire, holds a group to each other, binding them in ways they could never ascertain on their own.
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 03.18.2012 @ 7:10 am
I have to hurry, or they won’t count it as a grade. Crap, all the papers are out of order! No paper clip.. I wish my spit had a special gluey adhesive in it so I could lick the corner and stick em together! Oh here it is, the stapler! KA-CHUNK! Now I hand in my report, my 50 point report, just before the bell rings. My B+ in this class is safe!
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 03.17.2012 @ 3:11 pm
The time spent doing a particular activity. Whether long or short, the moments taken and the effort put into this activity cannot be taken back; therefore, this activity should be worth the previously-mentioned time spent and/or resources devoted to achieving the goal at hand.
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 03.14.2012 @ 5:24 pm
Food designed to tickle the sensitive palate of the tongue. The feasts reserved only for the gods, or for those easily mistaken for some higher deity. Larks’ tongues, caviar, flamingo brains, escargot, etc. All high-quality, exotic, and delectable treats fit for only the finest and serious of connoisseurs.
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 03.11.2012 @ 10:29 am
From the tree tops, the orangutan swings like a pendulum to maneuver from place to place. It is not its only form of transporting itself, but it is surely the safest, for there are many hungry predators that would love to make a meal of this creature. It requires timing and precision, for one slip or mistake could result in a nasty fall, more than likely causing serious injury. But for now it is completely safe.
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 03.07.2012 @ 5:54 am
Smaller than a city, yet still has its own unique characteristics. The park, the old man who walks up and down main street smoking a cigar with his eyes on the sidewalk, the McDonald’s. All central to the town’s everyday life. People still connected by streets, addresses, neighbors, friends, and cars. A place, a community, a home to those whole live there.
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 03.04.2012 @ 4:43 pm
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As it drips down my face, I know that I’ve won. As it stings my eyes, I know that I am victorious. My opponent has sweat like me, but not as much as me. He has not put as much effort as me into this game we play, and that means that I am stronger, better, work harder. It reflects this effort that I’ve put into this competition, and I surely have emerged the victor.
» Posted By deideiblueeyez On 03.04.2012 @ 7:03 am