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Showing most liked content on 02/28/18 in all areas

  1. 2 points
    have you ever just smelled a certain Smell and somehow...it's familiar...like ah yes,, I smelled this exact thing on september 23rd of my seventh grade year as I was sitting down to do my algebra homework.....I was in the kitchen...the window was open...it was 63 degrees F outside.....a cool breeze tousled my hair,,.,.I had not a care in the world,,,.,life was si m pler t h en .,,.... .
  2. 2 points
    "i want my pants back." "i mean...i don't have pants but i DO have one singular bra i can give you" "i don't....want that." "i do! i'll use it to scoop egg juice out of the river" "...please don't." "god tier: wearing a bra over a binder with water balloons stuffed in the bra"
  3. 2 points
    So first of all I love this: And second yes we are fighting back it's damn time to seize our future
  4. 1 point
    you raised us saying we could be whatever we wanted to be. how about dreamer? leader? you raised us saying you would support us in everything. what about in speaking up? in making history? you raised us saying this is the land of the brave, and yet you reject us when we become the brave. you raised us saying we could change the world, and guess what? it's time. we're angry, we're scared, and we've got a goddamn good reason to want change. so step aside and realize that some things are more important than your fragile comfort. some things are more important than that AR-15 you have locked up in a safe. are you really too blinded by the bright lights surrounding you, or can you simply not see beyond your own bigoted, privileged, selfish nature? go on, tell these “immature” youth to shut up. go on, crush their free speech while you whine about yours. and you know how they'll respond? do you have any idea? keep on dancing in your carefree idiocy. keep on clinging to ugly shreds of past, keep on letting tragedies slip away without more than your hollow ‘thoughts and prayers,’ while we fight tooth and nail for the pursuit of goddamn happiness.
  5. 1 point
    I just have to make it through the week I’m a vacuum with a full bag Full of dust, hair, and essential things I dropped them under the bed and then completely forgot about it I’m too full to keep sucking I’m burnt out I’m coughing on the dust Feel the tickles and I sneeze I’m tired, sick inside just want to close my eyes again clinging to my pillow staring at the ceiling sinking in…. sinking in…. But the light and the people Don’t listen to me That’s ok I have to do my part I’ve accepted that at least But there’s a little grain in my stomach that stings I don’t know if it’s dread or guilt I won’t do anything My body is used to “Oh pity me, pity me” but I don’t want to regress to homey helplessness and pointing my sword at my chest with the ravine behind me Author's Note: Critiques welcomed.
  6. 1 point
    "Let's face it, guys, out of all of us I'm most likely to call Swallowtail at 2 am needing to be bailed out of jail" "You already do that, Marshall"
  7. 1 point
    Ok! Thanks for communicating with us; I understand your choice now. I haven't got any suggestions at the moment, but I will think about it, and I'm sure some more economically capable slammers will have ideas.
  8. 1 point
    I was wondering about the Pro stamp on the profile. This really sucks. I don't like that new slam users have to pay. In my experience, the Slam has been a really open and accepting community, and to hear that in order to be a part of the community, one has to buy a subscription, is upsetting. Membership in a vibrant, safe, and inclusive community of creative teens. I would like my Slam community to be vibrant, safe, and inclusive.
  9. 1 point
    I can remember so vividly Things that never happened I was so sure that they happened, That they were happening, That they were going to happen. But the people around me disagreed. Didn’t see from my point of view. Because where I was, I could, No, I can See beyond the little walls of a little school Into the great wonders of the world I can remember fall leaves, And polaroids, Flowers and whispers, Laughter and grace, Curiosity and Intrigue, The start of an adventure that has no villain. I remember fairies playing with my hair While I run through a field of spring flowers. And getting lost in the woods, Only to find a long rabbit hole, That takes me to my true home. I remember pixie lights, And bare feet, Green grass, A beautiful summer dress. And somewhere in the background Someone has found an old record player, And 60’s slow music. Soon dancing is all we need. I remember snowflakes Gentle and euphoric, Making everything ugly In this gray colored world A perfect Unchanging white; Everything glows. Even my flushed Red cheeks. But only I remember Because everyone else says All they saw Was a "little girl Not paying attention to her classes". All they saw was a "foolish kid Staring out the window At nothing in particular" All they saw was a "daydreaming student"; Surely not a student with dreams. please give feedback! I'm a new writer and need to get better.
  10. 1 point
    i am a little girl and we are walking. 'i just don't know, daddy,' i say. it's a bright day, with the sky a bright cotton-candy blue and the clouds chasing each other across its expanses. the news is riddled with politics, as it always is, but i am only just starting to open my eyes to it. 'i don't even know if i'm a democrat or a republican.' he eyes me for a moment. 'ok,' he says thoughtfully. 'well, it should be pretty easy to tell.' 'ask me questions,' i say. 'and tell me by my answers what i am.' and he does. he asks me many things. he asks me about black and white and freedom and confinement. he asks me about the death penalty. he asks me about abortion. some of these things are easier to answer than others. there's one, though, that stands out to me now. we're three-quarters of the way home, and the hill is steep enough that the dog is starting to lag. 'what about gay marriage?' he says. this is before it's been legalized, and we are in north carolina where politics has always been a few steps behind. i think about this for a moment. i have an answer but i don't know how to say it. 'i think,' i say carefully, laden with eight-year-old wisdom and confining societal philosophy, 'that they should be allowed to marry. it's weird and i don't think it's...natural, or whatever, but it's not my business what they do.' we stop as the dog sniffs a spot in the grass. my father is frowning slightly, eyeing me with a thoughtful gaze. 'why isn't it natural?' he asks, and i pause. 'it just...isn't.' he tells me that it is. that it's perfectly natural. i'm troubled, and doubtful, but i am eight years old and i do not question the things i'm told. (he tells me i'm probably a democrat, based on my other answers, though it doesn't really matter at this stage in life.) homosexuality comes up more and more over the years and i start to warm to it. it's still weird, and unnatural, but i brush it to the side. if they're happy, then fine. i don't care. and besides, it's not like i'm gay. i've had crushes on boys, right? and, after all, you can't be gay if you don't want to be. that's what i think, ten years old and staring out the car window. you can't be gay if you don't want to be. you hate that, right? you hate everything i've said. it's funny to think you might have hated me, then, if i hadn't been kind and adorable and lovable in every way. i'm fifteen and it's dark out. i'm dressed in my dance clothes, almost bare naked in the winter; my dad and i have already had our argument about car temperature. i'm hot and sweating, having just exercised, but he's been sitting in the car for an hour and he's freezing. the overpass curves before us, lit only by the headlights of his blue jeep cherokee, and we're talking amiably. i don't know what leads to it, but he says something that night that lingers. 'and when and if you have a husband...' he pauses for a moment, and then says, gentler, 'or a wife, then—' and the rest is obscured by foggy memories but i remember thinking, 'thanks, daddy, but i'm straight.' but it stuck. i'm straight, right? what follows is hot showers and existential dread. i've since opened my eyes more to the community; i have queer friends. i know more. one of the things i know about is bisexuality. 'i'm straight,' i think, but then i think: 'am i?' it's mid-winter. it's freezing and i'm in the car on a way to an audition. everything is perfectly normal. my mom is beside me, the radio is playing soft music, and i'm texting my best friend. she's dating her first boyfriend and she needs advice: she wants to break up with him but she doesn't know how to say 'no' or 'i don't want this anymore'. she's afraid that it'll hurt him and his family, and so she's content to let this continue to hurt her. i have no experience with relationships but i give her advice anyway. the three little dots bounce on the screen and she says 'thank you for putting up with me. if you ever need help with anything, don't be afraid to ask.' and i stop dead. this is the worst timing possible; i'm in the car next to my mother, who does not know, on the way to an audition. i'm hopped up on anxiety: if this goes awry, my audition will be terrible. i will likely not manage a poker face in the small confines of the car. i'm not thinking about these things, though, as i text her back. 'actually there is something. i've been thinking about this a lot over the past year and i haven't told anyone but i think i might be bisexual.' there's a long pause, wherein i very nearly die. oh god, i think. she hates me. the three little dots are back. 'i'm back. sorry, i was walking into the house.' a pause. i'm trying not to cry, from anxiety and fear and relief and tension. 'oh. i'm so sorry i have literally the worst timing.' the little dots bounce like they're taunting me. 'ok first of all, know this changes nothing. i'm still your friend and i love you.' and suddenly it's real. but not...quite. two months later it's my birthday. i'm sixteen and i'm bundled with nerves and i sit my family down and i say, in many more words: 'i'm bisexual.' my parents tell me they love me. my dad says, 'i want you to know you can tell us anything.' my brother says nothing, but leans over to give me a hug. this is the first time i've said it aloud and it's the first time it's felt so real. i'm bisexual. i'm bisexual. now i think i may have been wrong. i may just be biromantic; i may be asexual or demisexual, i might even be aromantic, but that's not the point. the point is you would have hated the me from the beginning, who called you unnatural and thought it was a choice. the point is i grew. anyone can grow; it's easy, once you open your eyes. it's okay to make mistakes if you someday will learn from them. so do not hide people away; help them learn. help them grow. but most importantly: define yourself as who you are now: someone who has grown. someone who has learned. do not let yourself be defined by who you once were.
  11. 1 point