Post Reply Oh Fucking Dear.
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Posted 11/26/09
-Why did he die there?
-I don’t know David, I really don’t know.
-Why there though? Is it fate? Are there invisible tracks that carry us to the place we die? Is that why?
-I don’t know, please, be quiet.
-Who decides where all the tracks go? Is there a conductor somewhere? Watching us?
-He’s called God, David. Now be quiet. People can hear you.
-But if it’s God, why did He make him die there? Didn’t He know how much pain He would cause Sarah?
-God has His reasons for doing things, David. You must never question Him. Never.

So I never did. Not once after that funeral did I question God about any of the things He did to me or my loved ones. I never questioned him once, because I stopped believing in Him. Of course, Mother continued to attend Mass every Sunday morning and Wednesday night, we still said our prayers before bed, and we always thanked the Lord for our meager meals. The days still shone as bright and the night still slept as sound, and yet something had changed. Something was different within me; something that triggered the darkness that slumbered deep within humanity, sometimes rising to whisper evil thoughts into our unsuspecting minds, covering our unsuspecting eyes, and tainting our unsuspecting bodies. The darkness that pursued our utmost dreaded fears and nightmares, haunting and taunting like the demons that we possessed from overexposure.
Being alive does that to a person – it shows you the extent of evil that all humans are capable of. It corrupts you with dirt and filth through modern technologies, virtual desire and erotic violence, guiding you to an oasis of pure liquid evil and mind fucking blissfulness that rips your liver apart and sends poison through your virgin veins.
This darkness, stirring in the most dangerous of murderers, was now fully alert and agonizingly awake within the pits of my soul.
It was this darkness that destroyed my life, the carefully constructed foundation of my entire livelihood. It tore down the façade of love and hate, the grudges and the lust, the pain and the happiness, the violence and peacefulness that I had meticulously nurtured in my greenhouse of living. It ruined the inner linings of identity and personal knowledge that I had discovered throughout my eighteen years, smashing the mirrors of Self and shattered any sense of individualism and ego that made me who I was, David. The gardener of my existence was dead – and ‘I’ was all alone.
During my time of Innocence, Mother and Father were ‘mum’ and ‘dad’ until the funeral, ‘life’ had positive connotations and I still had Me. It was period of untouched purity. Looking back now, I know now that Innocence is underappreciated. Children should be nurtured as gold and their pure spirits should be handled as one would a fragile crystal glass, because once their Innocence is gone that’s it. Darkness takes permanent residency within them.

To be continued...(Which it probably won't)...



Just an attempt to overcome my writer's block. :(
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Posted 11/26/09
Yuki...

yuki... yuki i am speachless...



The days still shone as bright and the night still slept as sound, and yet something had changed. Something was different within me; something that triggered the darkness that slumbered deep within humanity, sometimes rising to whisper evil thoughts into our unsuspecting minds, covering our unsuspecting eyes, and tainting our unsuspecting bodies. The darkness that pursued our utmost dreaded fears and nightmares, haunting and taunting like the demons that we possessed from overexposure.



what the hell is this? what am i gonna say to this?
this is your attempt to overcome some writer's block? an attempt?




...sends poison through your virgin veins...


virgin veins... ridiciliously simple yet jaw-droppingly perfect. (btw my jaw is literally half open as i am writing u this..)


now yuki, for the first time ever... i am seriously mad to you... you have such a talent and i am sorry for saying this but man! u are wasting it!!
u can really be famous with ur gift, the way u write, its soo natural and soo freaking deep you get me
flabbarghasted each time i read something that was born in that twisted mind of yours which i cant help but venerating... and you know what, if this is your "attempt" to overcome something, then i KNOW i cant read your REAL writing cus that would kill me...

no matter what u write, i will always find a way to read it.. and when u finally start taking this mind-blowing gift of yours seriously and become famous, i will collect all of your bestsellers in a special shelf for them...

(tho, i guess i need to know your full real name for that )


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Who wants to know...
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Posted 11/26/09


This is what happens when you get writer's block?
Better than what most of us go through.

Wanna know what happens to me when I get writer's block?
A bunch of pictures appear in my head that may or may not happen in the story I'm trying to think of.

This feels like a very long inner monologue from a character who might be important to the overall story, it's a very good monologue too...you know, for 'writer's block'.
If this is your writer's block, I wonder what you can create when you're at 100%.
. . . . . .
Hm....You could be a threat to me.

I'm afraid I can't let you do that........


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Posted 12/1/09
i can't believe you wrote this IN ATTEMPT TO OVERCOME WRITER'S BLOCK.
your choice of words were perfect! they flow together with deep meaning, serious sad tone.
lovely monolouge.
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Wherever
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Posted 12/14/09
it was a whole bunch of a descriptive words
and I fell in love
This story attracts me
complete or incomplete


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