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Unrealistic - For BrandonWhy? Just, why? I can mourn your death, but I am still so angry with you. Why did you choose this? Why did you leave us? Your sister is distraught each night, thinking of you, even though nearly two months has passed. No one seems to realize how much this hurts me as well. I still cannot believe that its real, that you're truly gone. Maybe I'll realize it at my birthday party, or Christmas, or Jessie or Jack's birthday. Maybe not until your birthday, or your death day.
I know that you are dead. I have seen you dead in a casket. I have seen your ashes sink into a grave. I have left a flower for you. I have joined a memorial. I wear your jacket. I watch my brother ride your bike. The remembrance card marking your death sets in my bedroom. The white ribbons from the funeral that read "Beloved Nephew & Cousin" rest on my desk. I have screamed at the top of my lungs that you are dead and gone and not coming back!
But I still can't believe that its real
Each night, I dream. Before I kn
DeathIn moments alone, filled with solemn silence, I think. I think of life and its many joys, which sometimes seem like so few. I think deeply about how we all got to where we are today, combining religion and science together. I think about love and what it really means and really feels like. I think of death and the many ways that things "die".
Death is interpreted so many different ways. Religiously, it is described as the leaving of a soul from a body. Scientifically, it is the lack of life and decomposing of a body.
When hearing the terms "die", "death", or "dead", people instantly think of funerals and graves. But there are so many different kinds of "deaths."
To me, death is when its gone. Death occurs when something leaves. The soul or life leaving a body is death. The lack of battery power in an electronic is death. An argument between friends that tears them apart is death. A break up is death.
Death is so complex, yet truly so simple. In the end, death IS the end. Death is when
Hey, Honey. IV -kind of-Hey,
I'm realizing day by day, that I don't need you at all anymore.
I'm realizing, I won't ever need you again.
I'm not that sadistic, and clearly, you're happy without me. Why should I continue to cry about something that never really was?
It's not worth my time.
You're not worth my time.
Those are two years I should forget and wish never happened.
However, a memory is a memory, no matter how bad it hurts.
You did a good job at keeping up the illusion, even through your eight other girlfriends during the relationship with me, so the memories still remain.
Day by day, I'm letting go of them.
It will take a bit, but I'll be fine.
Hey, Honey. IIIHey, Honey.
This is the third note I've written to you that you'll probably never read.
You came into contact with me again. I don't think you know how shocked I was. I sat there, at my desk, open mouthed, when you sent me an IM with your new phone number. I just couldn't believe it. I thought it had to be some kind of horrible, sick joke But It wasn't. You told me that night about your lack of happiness, and your stress and like you asked me to, I told Tigger how you felt.
You later told me how you miss me, and never wanted to leave, but how you got scared and ran. It made me happy and broke my heart at the same time. The text message is locked on my phone. I re-read it every now and then.
I'm sure you've fixed everything with Chelsi. You said you were going to try. She had something up on her facebook a bout you and her going clubbing I can't see you at a club. Too strange to imagine. So, by that, I'm assuming you're back with her.
And that's why you haven't said mu
Hey, Honey. IIHey, Honey.
Yeah. I'm writing to you again. Guess there's still just so much on my mind, huh? There usually is, you know that. If I don't have something to think about, I think too hard and find something petty to freak out about. A huge flaw, I know. Hopefully we can work on that though, right? Oh, wait no. Nevermind.
I'm in Forensics class again. We're watching a video on the FBI crime labs. It's pretty interesting. You know me. I'm a pretty morbid girl. So, why wouldn't I love documentaries about dead bodies, right? Haha.
Two people did some pretty stupid things lately. And these things hurt me, naturally. I think I threw up more than when I saw the photo of you and Chelsi. Both of these people have lost A LOT of my trust. Currently, I'm in the "I hate you" stage. You know me, though. I can't hold a grudge for too long. So, I'll probably end up being stupid and forgiving them too easily. After I beat one of them ¾ to death. I joined a facbook group. "I hate you. But I'll
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More