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Showing most liked content since 05/20/18 in Posts

  1. 3 points
    At first it was my words that I said I would protect. Then, once that was gone, I said I wouldn’t make friends. It would be professional. And after I grew too close and realized too late, I said my age. My face. All of that was gone. My voice was one piece of identity I was determined to hold onto. Even though the odds of you knowing me in person were low and the odds of you finding me because of my voice were lower, my dad’s Red Scare-esque attitude towards my identity running loose on the internet was enough to keep me as a listener. But then there was that one little lapse of judgement, just once, just for a few seconds. It was quiet in my room. My breathing kept getting picked up, so I moved the microphone away from my face, twisted the cord in my hands. There was so much you didn’t know about me. There still is. Logan said he was leaving. His voice was as high-energy as I had expected. Not valley girl. I remember wondering what you guys imagined my voice sounding like. I knew I wouldn’t ever ask. Jess said something I didn’t quite hear. It made sense that her voice sounded like music. Logan repeated, my phone’s going to die and Jess replied something I couldn’t hear over my pulse in my ears and then I did it before I lost my nerve. I’m a calculating person. I have a hard time making snap decisions. But here I was, clicking and catching my breath and suddenly I just wanted to say hi before you left. That was it. But even though my pulse was still in my ears, I could hear a gasp from Jess’ mic and Logan make some unconscious little “woah” because I had said so many times that I wouldn’t say anything. And then I laughed. One more piece of my identity lost. I won’t say lost. Given. I gave you my voice. It makes me sad sometimes when I realize you don’t know things about me the same way my friends in real life do. You haven’t seen me break down in a classroom and then deliver a flawless presentation that was the cause of said breakdown ten minutes later. You haven’t seen my face light up, haven’t heard me scream at a basketball game. You haven’t rolled your eyes in unison when a new person tries to say my name. But you know other things. You know me, differently but the same. And I said I wouldn’t give myself to you. I’m glad I did.
  2. 3 points
    a reply because i am legitimately choked up right now: you have always sounded like you even when i did not know your voice. if you had asked me then what i thought you sounded like, i would have said i did not know, and that would be the truth. i didn't then, and i'm not sure i remember now, but the voice that is queenie is queenie's voice even when voiceless. i don't remember gasping. i'm sure that i did. not from shock but from excitement. my heart was pounding then, too. i am terrified of phone calls, especially with all of you who i have never met. but i do not remember gasping because queenie's voice is so present that even voiceless i know less what it sounds like and more what it feels like, because queenie is queenie who is kind and sarcastic and casually calls me "sweetie" or "babe". i used to be afraid to share my face, to share my name. trust is a gift that cannot be rescinded. but i gave you my trust and you gave me yours back with face and voice and name and that is precious, queenie, as you are precious, as the others precious, as this will always be precious to me. and even if i do not know you and perhaps never will, i feel that i do. none of you will know the red of my cheeks when it's hot out or my expression when concentrating, teeth biting lips or tongue sticking out. none of you will know the pictures on my bedroom walls and the silent sound of my laughter when i am laughing at my hardest. you will not know these things about me, and i will not know these things about you, but you know already the inner monologue that becomes text on the off-black discord wall and i know your monologues. i know your voices. i know you and i love you.
  3. 3 points
    say you’ll remember me when my time runs out when my lights fade now will I have been enough? my words my ideas myself will anything I have to offer everything I have to offer will that ever be enough to remain afloat in the waters of time not tossed below the waves I have no lifeboat will I have made a large enough crater drawn enough lines in the sand pulled at heartstrings held enough hands will I have been enough to be so outside the prison of my skull don’t let me disappear for though you glow I am still afraid of the dark
  4. 3 points
    set me free from the möbius strip infinity of this ever-expanding universe where I keep asking myself too many questions what are you asking from me? I will not learn the answers when every answer is itself a question the tilt of your head how you bounce on your toes the curve of your smile a flicker of something in your eyes you stand in my way on purpose? another game? nothing is certain I know not which way is up I never know why or what or the universe curls in wavelike collapsing on itself chaos dangerous evolution beautiful restless or running or maybe something? nothing
  5. 3 points
    I wrote this a while ago when I thought we could all use something a little less heavy and meant to post it here but then I didn't, so here it is now: We should all keep a secret diary in which to deposit our stupidest thoughts and lamest jokes that no one else will laugh at you know, the ones that follow no reasonable logic and reference 3 different fandoms and a good handful of inside jokes We all need a secret diary inside a well-worn leather cover or a very private online document or maybe in the margins of our most boring notebook whatever suits us best It's all right to have a secret diary it's not silly as long as no one finds out and they better not find out 'cause if they do we'll be in trouble, won't we people might find out who we really are what a scandal! no no we can't have that So let's hold on to our secret diaries don't let go of who we've learned to be or who we've just stumbled into becoming or who we've run away from but ended up as anyway because it's not just any old person who can see us all the way through so we'd better look good and hard ourselves
  6. 2 points
    GUYS. GUYS THERE ARE TEARS IN MY EYES I DIDNT SEE THIS UNTIL NOW AND IM CRYING I LOVE YALL AND IM JUST. IM THINKING ABOUT DUETING THE OTHER DAY AND I FUCKING. I LOVE U GUYS SO MUCH LIKE I JUST. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
  7. 2 points
    I hope for night. In darkness no one can quite see the worst parts. I hope for quiet. Even when I'm all alone, I can still hear everyone else enjoying each others company. Outside the window the world is a canvas and I can see all of the beauty all the happy endings all the possibilities. But thats outside. I'm stuck in here. Where only words are only stories and stories are only words. In this city where dreams come true, Why aren't mine? If I haven't "made it" here, can I make it anywhere?
  8. 2 points
    I feel as though I dropped my feelings on the ground Like a vase Possibly full of very small, elusive beans And now the pieces are everywhere! I'll probably never be able to pick them up Not in a million years of living And I'm too lazy to even try So i Just sit and sigh repeatedly on the floor tiles That may or may not be Spanish Depending on the time of day The only thing I want is to see my white blood cells darting back and forth When i stare into the sky This is probably why I don't have any friends. Oh well.
  9. 2 points
    There was a beast in the woods. Every night, its chilling cries soared above the trees to claw at the moon, and every night the townspeople shuddered with fear. “Stay inside,” said the mother to her child, or the young man to his lover. “Stay inside when the sun dips below the horizon. Stay inside and be wary of that which lies in the darkness.” The people heeded this, for the most part. But sometimes, sometimes, someone would grow careless, or reckless, or simply forget. ~~~ “I will slay the wolf,” said the young woodcutter to his master. “I have grown strong and my axe is sharp. I will release us from the clutches of fear.” And his master shook his head and begged him to stay, but his apprentice would not be swayed. He entered the woods as the sun dipped low, the world cast into shades of purple and gold, and that is the last he was ever seen. His mother wept at his loss and the townspeople held their children close. ~~~ “Do not go into the woods,” warned the baker of the young woman who planned to go searching for berries that day. “Stay in the meadows, and be home before dark.” “I know,” said the young woman, and did as she was bade, but as the day lengthened and her basket filled with the bright red of berries, she lost track of time and found herself alone at the edge of the wood as the sun began to set. The next morning, her lover found her basket lying solitary at the edge of the meadow, stained with a red that was not just berry juice. ~~~ “Do not go into the woods,” said the townspeople. “Beware the wolf.” ~~~ She came at the end of summer. She was old and wizened, her face lined like a canyon and her hair like woven silver, but she carried herself with a dignity that belied her wisdom and experience. The townspeople welcomed her honorably and offered her a place to spend the night, but she merely smiled at them and told them she had business to attend to. “Surely not at night,” said the townspeople, and when her smile did not falter, they hastened to warn her. Stay inside. Do not go into the forest. There’s a monster in that forest. “I have business to attend to,” repeated the woman, and she would not be stopped. The people watched her go with sadness, for they knew they would never see her again. But the woods did not ring with wolf-song that night, and the moon was pale instead of yellow. ~~~ “Come home,” whispered the woman, unafraid of the snarling beast that poised to strike before her. “It’s been too long already. Please, it’s time to go home.” The shadows lengthened and an owl called in the distance, and as the night filled with magic the beast faded away. The woman held out her hand and the fingers that met it were human. She looked into the deep eyes of man she had once called her son and smiled a small, sad smile. ~~~ When morning came, the townspeople opened their doors with heavy hearts, but the sight they were met with was a remarkable one. The woman was alive, untouched and smiling, and she was hand in hand with a tired man whose eyes were ringed with purple shadow. “What did you do?” asked the townspeople. “What about the wolf?” The woman bowed her head and squeezed her son’s hand tightly. “Oh,” she said. “You will no longer need to worry about the wolf.” And her words rang with truth, because the wolf’s cry was never heard again.
  10. 2 points
    @Apollo's Lover@Short_comedian@thepensword@queenie_flower@conradbirdie oh you know
  11. 2 points
    the heart function dont work on old posts but im saving this
  12. 1 point
    The smell of Dirt and Dust Mixed with the Teasing smell of moss and crisp leaves Dance across your skin In a balled of playful wind Leaving my My soul Breathless As I take the plum from your palm With the promise of timeless years
  13. 1 point
    queenie oh my god this is so sweet i'm crying i love you so much
  14. 1 point
    everyone else gave up on me and it seems that there's no merit to life anymore throw my ashes off mt. fuji in springtime because if i can't see the cherry blossoms i might as well become them i don't want a funeral i don't want to be remembered but don't worry the raven queen will treat me well
  15. 1 point
    There are days when my mom is Ares god of war and wrath And there are days when my mom and mind are the same waging war Inside and out those are the days where I truly wish to be Caenus with impenetrable skin and underwater but not drowning there are days where I feel like Herakles Strong and proud Defiant but those are the days where I'm more like Icarus Flying too close to Helios and drowning in Poseidon's unforgiving hands
  16. 1 point
    The fairy tale language use is sooo gooooood.
  17. 1 point
    "God I gotta do something about all these ones in my wallet" "Go to a strip club"
  18. 1 point
    @thepensword I'm definitely using this, it's wonderful. Thank you so much!
  19. 1 point
    I was biking laps She was running And in that instant We locked eyes And suddenly I knew The miles behind those legs The pain of a near defeat And the sweet taste of victory. I knew the stinging gallons of sweat The ache of shin splints I knew her The way her hair flew through the air And I wanted to tell her I see you I know those miles I know that pain I know the glory It's my last season too My last shot My last chance I see you, runner.
  20. 1 point
    influences my mom thinks you're a good influence on me my friend says, pretending not to be upset that her mom thinks she needs someone to steer her into the right path like her own dreams and thoughts, beliefs and opinions aren't enough. it's strange to think that it would only take two. little. words. to crack that illusion. and we wouldn't be friends anymore and our sleepovers would amount to that one time my friend narrowly escaped a demon's grasp my grasp the grasp of a girl who actually cares about school and learning and books. two little words, and they will never see me. like that. again.
  21. 1 point
    every word against my abusers character is still shards of broken glass within my throat hot wet blood slick and thick drip into pages of books i'm trying to put down, set to rest, put to bed, i am kin with the alien spacecraft hovering, dull and strange, pockmarked with memories of another world, marred with bullet holes,clouds gather at the edge of my vision, inside my greedy thankless throat they precipitate needlessly, desperatelyplastic keepsakes, gifts, tear me open at the seam, click against my bones foreign and slick in my bloodstreammy thoughts are junk mail tossed aside but relentless and needy i feel strange and sick and I would like to leave, now, please
  22. 1 point
    here, in these heavy, yellow-bellied clouds swelled with the storm, pleased by the weight unraveled & mouthy comes thunder where spindle-weak fences pin down the hills & the hills let them, & the winds scream praises, & the barbed wires rename themselves please small suns dot the gaps between lightning fingers & the sky sobs yellow-green, like the stomach of a frog here, under these dripping prayers, sweetgrass laid limp over itself and dew-shining, i ride my bike to the end of the sidewalk & that, where the rain peels itself up from the concrete humid for the sunlight, greek iris in prosper & that, where i stop propped on one foot that is what love tastes like
  23. 1 point
    there is an entire science to the tectonic plates. but we are not continents, so why are you so far away?
  24. 1 point
    I'm working on editing some of my better poems from middle school right now, so here's one of those edits: someone lit your Hate aflame and taught you not to see when you Kill now you're shooting bullet holes in the cosmos splashing the night with Blood and everything you've forgotten
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