BiteHe purred in a rather low voice. He rubbed his body against mine, nuzzling the nape of my neck with his face. Chills ran down my spine as I squirmed. I knew what was coming, but I didn't know when it would happen. He purred again in my ear…and before I knew it, his fangs sunk into my skin. I moaned for it hurt before I threw him off of me. I rubbed my neck with my hand-trying to ease the pain, but to no avail. I looked at my neck in the mirror. Turns out…my cat gave me a hickey.
The Sailor ReturnsJournal entry: June 1627Ship bells ring as the the waters crash into our great beauty…our ship. My fellow men shout with joy as our ship gracefully enters the port. We have survived yet another voyage. A voyage that was dangerous, but well worth it. I, too, feel a sense of happiness that we are alive and well, and that we have indeed made it back to our destination…home. While I do feel a sense of sadness for I will be departing my beautiful vessel, I am overjoyed, for it is that I will be able to see a beauty of another form again…a beauty that I have missed for so long. A beauty that is more beautiful than anything or any other being…My sweetest lover…A young, dark-haired, brown-eyed merchant places down his quill, smiling gently as he reminisces-only thinking of her."We will see each other soon, my dearest…" The young man gently whispers before closing and tucking away his journal into his drawer.
PassionSomeone asked me "what are you passionate about?"And I replied, "the arts…but I'm more passionate about those who I love and I always will be, for they are my inspiration, they are my life. Each person in my life plays a critical role and I would never want to lose a single one of them."
All I want...-"If I could give you one gift, what would it be?"-"A kiss from you."
No AngelThere were little things that could kill me.Little things I knew secretly.What I once thought was a duo.Turned quickly into a tango for three.Now I once fell in love with an angel.This angel I thought brought me love.I turned around once and saw my angel with another.I turned around again and saw my angel all over yet another.And I couldn't help this feeling inside.This passion I had,Died deep inside.Torment, anger, and jealously burned straight through my heart.What was I to do?The one I loved left me.What was I to do?I couldn't take it any longer!So I said:Well run away, run away little angel.I have waited for you too long.I have loved you in a way you have not,In a way that you will not return.Well run away I dare you!I am sick of being tossed aside.You do not love me.You just play with my heart.You do not love me.I am sick of your games!You do not love me.Then end this pain!You do not love me.I am dying inside!Stop it I beg you!And stop trying to lov
The Last TimeI looked into your eyes. They were sparkling, filled with tears. I took my last breath, muttering "There was a time that I was deeply in love you…" My eyes slowly closed for the last time, feeling one of your tears hit my cheek for the last time…And the last final thought I had…was 'if only you would have been mine…but you never were…'
The Lost AngelCaptivation filled by heart and soul, but it was not lust that I was after. This angel spoke to me with the sweetest of words…words that were filled with support and love. This angel gave me a sense of security under their wings. I felt safe, and I still do whenever this angel talks to me. I have never felt such trust and security in anyone before…but I feel such things when this angel is with me. I felt truly loved for the first time in my life by someone other than a family member. I felt a sense of acceptance. I felt alive for the first time in my life…I felt my heart beating within my breast for the first time.But as the months and years went on, I saw that others desired my angel…desires not of love, but desires of lust. This angel became overwhelmed with such distress…and I sat alone, helplessly watching all of this chaos destroy my angel. I felt heartbroken…unsure if I was still worthy enough to be under the wings of this angel. It was
Dear Darling Love...Dear darling,It was not difficult for me to fall in love with you. Such kindness…Such warmth…Such love. I have never experienced such things before…but you treated me like royalty-despite my peasantry. You have made me feel something I have never in my life felt before…my heart. And it wasn't long before you started to melt the cold, frozen heart that I once had…You turned it into something kind, loving, and warm…something I never thought was possible. You turned it into the same beautiful heart like yours. But despite how I feel…I wish I knew how you really felt. Your feelings matter to me more than anything…or anyone else's for that matter, for it is that I want to care for you and your feelings too. But, again, I wish I knew how you felt too…If it is that you could let me fall for you and you would fall for me…I want to know…And if you would, I would give you the love that you deserve and much more than that. I would
Don'tI hugged you close, gently whispering, 'don't let me go.' All the while you whispered softly, 'don't leave me.'
One of the best comments anyone ever wrote.So my friend :icon345rv5: wrote this little masterpiece of a comment on my last journal post. It read almost like an essay and I found it so inspiring I thought to post it as an actual deviation. Read this Winston Churchill like quote.Which is why we need to expose the brainwashing gender studies universities. This GamerGate issue ceased being just about ethics in journalism when the mainstream media attacked us. I used to think the idea of Cultural Marxism was merely a conspiracy theory from Alex Jones, this woke me up to the reality that this kind of poison was prevalent in our youth. I used to think these people were well intentioned idiots and didn't have enough numbers to be any operational threat to our democracy, now i know that they're not only a operational threat but they're being lead by dishonest extremists with a major agenda no different from Jihadists and crusaders and had these people been claiming to be fighting in the name of Jesus or Allah, society would be more inc
--At first, she made dirty jokes, swore too much, and wore much more black than anyone should care for. She got annoyed far too easily and cared way too much. She wanted everyone to be happy, but she wasn't trying to please anybody by changing into something she wasn't. She'd make fun of herself and always found something humorous in any situation. She was attracted to the dark and abnormal. She was passionate, cynical, and strong. She was unapologetically herself.Dig a little deeper, and you'll notice the bright blush across her face when she presented in class. You'll hear the softness in her voice when a teacher called on her, and realize that she never raised her hand, or greeted people first in the hallway. She always apologized first, often excessively. She felt bad for things that weren't her fault. She was the first to hold someone's hand when they were scared, and the last to give up on something that was important to her. She was shy, insecure, emotional and compassionate. She
They went to school and never came back..I was as usual in a state of bliss. That omnipotent feeling like duh, nothing can possibly go wrong with me. Nothing that life throws at me can stir me I am living happily in the paradise of oblivion I created. People are killed? Oh that's pretty normal. People are killed everyday. That place had a traffic accident? Who cares, driver should be blamed. Not my fault. Not my business. Terrorist are going to attack again? Oh a minute of worry. Than its shrugged off. After all , I am living in a big city. They wont attack here. WHY CARE FOR OTHERS? Why affect our own lives for them, after all I am a cursed observer who wont ever be victimized or so I believed .Anyway, cold and jinxed as I may be, somewhere deep down I still cared, I still had the capability to feel the pain of others. And that I discovered today, on 16th December 2014 even a person like me couldn't stop her tears. The tragedy that has befallen us cannot be described in words.Imagine yourself as 15 year old ready for schoo
Waiting, Fading, and Floating AwayI started talking to serial killers years ago when the depression started to form. Or maybe it had always been there? I’m not the kind of person who lets my emotions get the best of me. I’m always the calm and rational person people often go to for advice and support.Though, I’ve always found it funny how people always expect me to be there for them, but when I need them, no one is around. But I guess that’s kind of how my whole life has been. I’m only here when you need me, and I guess that existence is an existence enough.I had read books on true crime and killers for a while, but it never occurred to me to write to them until I was fifteen. I remember coming home one day done with the world, and instead of taking my life, I wrote a letter.At first, I had written to Charles Manson, Joe Metheny, Gary Ridgeway, Charles Cullen, and David Berkowtiz (Son of Sam). I wrote about my life, my pain, my struggles, and how lonely I felt. It never really phased me
.:Declaration d'Amour:.There is that girlYes that girl Right thereWell I know herI know her since a while nowand I like hernot like a lover or anythingI just like herI like staring at herwhen she drawswhen she stares at the skyI like staring at her in generalI don't know if she is prettyBut I find her prettyI seem being the only noticing thatYes thatI tend to bother her a lotbecause I like herI like her a lotShe says she hates thatBut I don't believe herSo I keep bothering herShe also says she is finewhen I ask her what is wrongBut I don't believe herSo I keep askingI keep askingbecause I knowI know she liesI like herI like her a lotand I seem being the only one noticingI like her so muchthat I don't wanna show herhow I feel about herEven if I have to say I don't like herI like herI like her a lotI like staring at her writing in her diaryI know she dislikes thatBut I keep
Against Human TraffickingI'd rather sell my body to the highest bidder, every night for the rest of my life, than sell my child.I'd rather be a burglar than trade away my child to pay off my debts.I'd rather live on the streets than see my child give up an education so she/he can earn money for the family.
CompleteIs how I feel whenever I am with you.