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Stealing stuff for phunStolen stuff from eulpie
Will mark with a X what's true lel
I am a cuddler. X
I am a morning person.
I am an only child.
I am currently in my pajamas. X
I am currently pregnant.
I am left handed.
I am a little shy around the opposite gender at first. X
I bite my nails.
I can be paranoid at times. X
I enjoy country music. X
I enjoy smoothies. X
I enjoy talking on the phone.
I have a car.
I have/had a hard time paying attention at school. X
I have a hidden talent.
I have a pet/pets. X
I have a tendency to fall for the “wrong” guy/girl. X
I have all my grandparents. X
I have been to another country.
I have been told that I have an unusual sense of humor. X
I have or had broken a bone.
I have caller I.D. on my phone.
I have bathed someone.
I have changed a diaper.
I have changed a lot over the past year. X
I have friends who have never seen my natural hair colour.
I have had major/minor surgery. -will have-
I have killed another person.
I have had my hair cut within the last we
EmptyI've always wished to be the perfect person for you, but this perfection seems to fade away when you're gone.
I can't express my feelings but I guess it's ok?
Not everyone can do that.
I'm normal, you say, I'm normal, I repeat.
As a parrot, I keep repeating.
Like a dumb.
Do I really choose this path?
Do I really want to end like that?
Do I really want to keep hurting myself with thoughts that go far away my knowledge?
It seems there aren't replies to that.
And what remains me?
An empty heart.
Empty emotions, useless garbage.
Like a wretched egg.
My heart will keep bleeding.
Pathetic human beingThat feeling when you finally realize, after an entire night of remorse, that you can't care less if one of the people you're falling for (in a figurate way), first treats you as shit and then doesn't even care about making you have felt like that.
Fake journal, yeh another oneFake journal.
Why? Cause that contest thing must stay up
Just to tell you... my mouse is fucked up
Some thoughts on Valentine's daySo uhm that day of the year is near again.
Talking about Valentine's day.
To me is just the shitties and useless day possible.
1. Your partner does love you everyday, not just one day at year, correct?
2. It's just a day dedicated to the unbridled consumerism, cause everyone buys stupid heart shaped stuff who can't be useful most of the times, if not for chocolate;
3. People start even more drama cause they're not paired, not loved and shit like this.
Just think that there are mother's day and father's day and some people can't even do it cause they don't have a mother or a father.
See how much pathetic is the thing?
Calling 14th of February an "important day" is just something selfish, at this point;
4. Monuments gets dirty cause idiot kids write their names, hoping that their relationship will last forever. Yeh, it will last forever until some AWESOME person goes and cleans it.
So these are my thoughts on this about this pointless day of festivities and consumeri
OCs interview: Andromedas!1. What is your real name?
Andromedas, I know it's too long.
2. What is your surname?
Desios, I'd prefer something nicer tho.
3. What are your three most popular nicknames?
Uhmmm Andre, Medas, Andros or pinkie, but I'd prefer the first three, please.
4. What is your favorite color?
I guess red.
5. What is your favorite animal?
6. What type of animal/race of human/mythical species are you?
Well I used to be a common human till some time ago...
I'm a Shadow Assassin now, maybe you should be aware.
7. What is your favorite song?
Underwater - Mika
8. What is your favorite band?
Ehmmm... I don't have one at the moment.
9. What is your favorite TV station?
Who has time to watch the TV?
10. What is your favorite pastime?
11. What do you want to be when you grow up?
I'm mature enough to know what am I.
12. What did you want to be when you grew up when you were 4-7 years old?
A jet pilot, instead I became a waiter.
Such a great difference, uh?
13. Time to get more wacko and persona
Meme thingy xDFake journal fake as some people OwO
No, I'm not feeling any good but this thing made me rofl.
Stolen from SirLaeru (sorry but username will be on the artist's comment)
What is your username: SociopathicFrog
Spell it backwards: (( Oh shiet...)) gorFcihtapoicoS
Spell it with your elbow: SOOLCI9P0'AGTKICV GGFVROLGH (( Oh my hell D: ))
Spell it with your eyes shut: SociopathicFrog (( Damn straight!
Chronicle of a Past WinterThere has been only a few moments in my life where I have truly felt alive. The following bit of writing is a small chronicle detailing one of those events:
Four years ago this December, I was a very different person than the person who sits here writing this today. I was 16 and a junior at a local high school. I was skinny as a twig after lots of weight in during the previous year.
The year had been up and down. I had fallen in and out of love with a girl who was more confusing than a rubik's cube. A month after our break up, I lost my grandpa. He had always been an inspiration to me and he had always shown me how powerful knowledge really can be. I want to be the kind of man he was and I will never forget the impact he had on my life. Somehow in all of it I managed to stay sane and grind my way through day-by-day and month-by-month.
The first four months of school flew by fast. My Chinese improved rapidly as I took up as a teacher's assistant with my Chinese teacher. I was att
a small tidbit of a personal pieceprompt: talk about a place you love, conveying your peace with it without outright saying that you love it.
I have three lamps in my room, and two of them are hardly very bright. Both sort of cast everything (except for the cluttered corners) into a soft glow. The other only works when it's dark outside and the other lights are off. It throws everything into a blue-ish glow and somehow makes it feel like a place faeries would escape to.
The bookshelf is small, but it's enough to fit my favourite books and memories. The walls and ceiling are painted blue and green and are covered in posters and art and doodles so I can't see enough of the colours to regret the crappy decorating job I did as a kid. My blankets are soft enough for my cat to sit on and he smells like sugar cookies and looks like home so I'm happy if he is. The desk is covered in marker that bled through my paper and paint that I couldn't get to stay on the page.
Sometimes it's sil
The SunflowerMy grandpa had a garden
It was the most magical thing I had ever known
And is probably the reason I love nature so much now
When I was little, he would take me outside to his fields, where rows of beautiful flowers, plump tomatoes, and so much more were planted in straight rows. Behind that was a green patch where an Indian tribe had made their home for what seemed like a very, very long time. We found arrow heads scattered almost everywhere, and even the occasional bone or two. Nearly all of my childhood memories resided in his yard. Well, either there or his kitchen. But thats a different story
I remember going to the store with him, hand in hand. We picked out seeds for the years crops. He would get the seeds packs he needed, and I got the seeds packs that had pictures I didn't know, because "I wanted to see every plant that ever existed." My words exactly. My grandpa would laugh and tell me there was way to many plants for that kind of dream, but I still wanted to try. I had always
Bawling BrawlYou're a bully. A pathetic nuisance like any other.
From an early age, you slammed me down,
and I didn't even realize that it was you doing it.
You were subtle and I wasn't being strong because I didn't have a reason to be.
I got sick of you fast. I refused you.
You don't deserve to be a part of my life.
And you think I'll forgive you?
No matter how many times you ask,
plead, beg, cry, whine, scream, and yell,
you will never be a part of me because
I am stronger than you,
I am wiser than you, and
I can play your game.
You want to kill me.
You hate me. Now?
I hate you.
I want you dead.
I choose to live.
I choose to fight.
I want you dead.
PancakesMy grandpa was a cook in the navy
Every morning when I was over, he would make me MnM pancakes from scratch. Yeah, they always got a little burnt, but that was fine. While he cooked, he told me stories of his days in the navy. I would sit on a little chair next to the griddle he used to make the pancakes, listening intently and eating the leftover MnMs. Every story made my laugh, and he would laugh with me. He could make every situation seem funny, and thats one thing I admired about him; he loved to make people laugh and did it easily. Then he would get the pancakes off the griddle and put them on my plate, pouring syrup on each one to look like a smiley face. He would watch me eat, asking how they tasted after each bite to make me giggle. After I was done, he lifted me up so I could reach the sink, washing the syrup off my face and off my plate. We then walked out to the garden, bringing the same little chair so I could watch him work. This went on for years.
But then my grandpa star
How did i get here? A Short Bio by MeHello, reader. So how was your search through DeviantART fueled by boredom and inspiration coming along. Well if you have a minute, i want to share something to you. If you don't have the time or just want to do something else, i understand completely. I’m always use to that for many years. So How Did I Get Here? Here’s part of my life story that i hope you might learn something from it.
So it all began with me as a baby knocking my head on a corner of table, leaving a strange mark on my head just like Harry Potter. It it was not magic like you read or seen on TV or in books. It’s like magic but it was Creativity that was sparked. Since then, i never stopped drawing or having fun with junk and clutter. From kindergarten to elementary school, i love drawing and creating things that came from my heart and soul. Some things that i encounter became so precious to me that i just kept it to me forever.
But there are some things in life that i’m not proud of. Creativit
I am meI am me. I am a girl with an adventurers heart, but I like being indoors. I am a girl that loves attention and always wants to be on stage. I am a strong person, but people beat me down. I am kind hearted, and always ready to help. I am a girl with pain, but I always smile. I am a girl that cries, and tries to be strong. I am a person who loves to listen to stories, but hates to read. I am random, but I make sense.
I am me for real. I may be random and weird but people love me for that. I may be weak, but my heart holds me as strong. I do feel pain but I get over it. I love adventure stories. I love helping people in need.
I am me and I am proud.
Best before"...continuerai a farti scegliere
o finalmente sceglierai."
Si chiudono gli occhi. Il sonno li accompagna. Gli amanti vogliono esserlo in eterno. Sanno che del loro sesso, che di quel sudato piacere, di tutte le carezze, dei tanti baci che non si contano perché senz'abitudine, di ogni sguardo complice e perverso nell'odiarsi prima di ritornare a cavalcare abbracciati, sanno che tutto questo, che tutto il loro esserci stati sparirà. Non sarà storia che si insegna la loro; a nessuno servirà; se ne dimenticheranno anche coloro che invidiarono il loro riuscire a non separarsi nonostante tutta la vita degli altri li schiacciasse, e loro proprio per questo ancora più stretti l'uno all'altra. La vecchiaia, se non prima, pareva l'unica. Ma il pericolo del divenire anziani è tremendo: non riconoscersi, non riconoscersi più. Si è sempre in tempo; levarsi di mezzo, lasciare spazio ad altri affinché litighino senza passione e soprattutto s
FourI am four hours old.
"Ma´am, there´s a shadow over your child´s crib, closer than usual. We told him to leave, but he didn´t."
I am four days old.
"Ma´am, the shadow did something. We don´t know what it was, but you´d better leave. It´s not a pretty sight."
I am four weeks old.
The shadow backed off. But I always know that he is still - somewhere. I even like him, in a way. He is special.
I am four years old.
The shadow came to the house when I wasn´t there. And now everyone is crying. He took my Papa. That´s not fair. Why him? Wasn´t it me he was waiting for?
I am fourteen years old.
I had forgotten about the shadow, but suddenly I remember him. I call for him. We need to talk. I wish I had something sensible to say.
I am twenty-four years old.
The shadow came to me to talk; he even brought his friend. Or mine, I don´t know. But talking to the shadow knocks me out regardless.
Now I´m about to leave behind thirty-f
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