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Status: Indefinite Hiatus

Member Since: 29 Feb 2012 06:43pm

Last Seen: 17 Jun 2021 06:53pm

Birthday: November 15

Location: Distant

Gender: F

user id: 279442

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   02.  29.  12.  
  1. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    October 21, 2015 5:54pm UTC
    Drabble #79 – its skin of gristle (this isolate)
    It’s a strange kind of reverence that comes with downing the night’s heartbreaks in the eve of winter. The air cold and dry, I watch you pack your luggage as I unzip mine. Bite my lip, act like the silence isn’t choking me. Your suitcase with the broken wheel drags by your side, like a dead body, heavy with memories and life lost. I toss in a piece of my heart just before the click of the lock. Do you know what it’s like, feeling like an echo? You were always the type who had a lot to say and no one ever knew what was going to come out of your mouth next. Today, you didn’t say a word, and I’m astonished by how thoroughly we have broken each other.

  2. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    October 21, 2015 5:51pm UTC
    Drabble #77 – Fathoms Below
    I know what it’s like to come home to everything being scattered and smashed, floor dirty with the heavy, invasive tread of strangers. It’s like the inside of my own head. The man who came to see me afterwards mentioned a lot about the pain, the grief, the wanting to blame someone and rage against the unfairness of it all. But what the man hadn’t mentioned was how I suddenly feel like I’m in on the joke. It’s hard to be the comic relief when no one wants to laugh at you anymore. And, god, isn’t that some game-changing irony. But that conversation’s already spoken for. It’s done, even if no one wants it to be. They all want to keep bringing it up, want some kind of conclusion, want everything to be okay, if I can just talk it out. But we all want a bunch of things we can’t have, and sometimes being okay isn’t what someone needs. They want a reason, a perpetrator, a motive, and more often than not you don’t get that. You just get a broken home; glass to clean up, furniture to replace, new memories to make.

  3. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    October 21, 2015 5:40pm UTC
    Drabble #71 – Plum Tea
    A soft, welcome laugh, you brush my hand. The shimmery oil rubbed into your skin glints in the light, catches the spot where you touched me. The grasshoppers are a low, distinct hum that fills the empty spaces lulling between topics. Before I know it, you are standing to refill a glass I hadn’t noticed I was drinking. I keep losing pockets of time. You brush my hand, seated again, and more fractures of light catch my eye where your fingers are peeking from the folds of your sleeve. Eyes like gems look back at me, speckled with laughter and glowing in the mid-summer heat. My breath stutters to a halt.

  4. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    October 21, 2015 5:36pm UTC
    Drabble #55 – I'mma give you chills harmonizing to Otis, Isley, Marvin.
    I am stopping to smell the flowers today and you are only ever kissed by men with shadowed eyes. We do not go to the market on cloudless days; the citrus is cheaper when it rains. I count coins, you count street corners, and we wonder how we managed to get here. I believe we are both slowly growing roots, despite the fact that nothing, not even our clothes, has ever fit us quite right. As always, we won’t leave until we have to, until you fall too quickly and scare yourself out of the memories you’ve made. It never fails to amaze me how recklessly naïve you live yet how astoundingly shy you become when faced with commitment. But that’s okay, I do not question you. Today we are getting ice cream on the pier and I know that, for now, this is enough.

  5. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    October 21, 2015 5:31pm UTC
    Drabble #63 – our lips, darling, they're so disarming
    There are times when you look at me like my body is unlike your own, like I hold secrets in my chest that you want to discover, like the color of my eyes is entirely new to you, like my hands and my arms and my waist are all a thing of beauty and should be worshipped and studied and appreciated. When you do, my stomach makes knots and I feel almost ill with it, like I’ve handed you my insides and asked you to take care of them. You keep taking my promises, cradling them to your chest, and I never see them again. You smile, too many teeth, all of them sharp, and I am not afraid. It should hurt, probably. But maybe I’m immune.

  6. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    October 21, 2015 5:22pm UTC
    She tells me to pretend she’s not there, to just talk. She says I can do that, I’m good at talking. I don’t want to talk to her. She says that’s okay, she knows. That’s why she wants me to pretend she isn’t there. If I don’t want her to help, the least she can do is listen. There’s a point she trying to get to, something she’s trying to get me to say, but I’m good at talking and talking and talking before the person I’m talking to realizes that I haven’t really said anything at all. Going unnoticed. I ignore her questions. She can tell. She notices. I ask if she can keep a secret, and she’s says yes, of course, that’s her whole job. But she’s lying, there are lots of situations that permit her to not actually keep a secret. I tell her this, that if I said I wanted to harm myself she would be well within her rights to repeat it to my parents. She sits back, as though I surprised her, asks if I want to harm myself, but I know better. I say that she can’t tell anyone, not a soul, that’s what keeping a secret entails. She asks about my friends, and not even them. Especially not them. I say that she thinks I don’t care about them. She says I don’t trust them, and that’s not the same thing. She’s right, it absolutely isn’t. I look out the window at the sky. It’s one of those weird mornings where you can still sort of see the moon. I comment on it. She thanks me, and leaves. She thinks about negative space in art. It reminds her of me, and how I only ever fill myself with what people want to see. It’s easy to forget about the negative space, and miss seeing the whole picture entirely. She wonders what angle she isn’t getting, what facet of the story isn’t visible to her. She wonders about all of the secrets I’m not telling, if she’s looking in the wrong places for them, and she supposes that would make as much sense as anything.

  7. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    July 15, 2015 9:58pm UTC
    you saw right through every last bit of me
    i should've know it from your energy
    your soul was close like it remembers me
    instilled in me
    90 degrees in california you put chills in me

  8. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    July 13, 2015 6:33pm UTC
    You’re sitting on that ugly plaid blanket your mother loaned you several winters ago, staring at the sky because we don’t have to time to appreciate it much anymore. I want to ask you questions, like why you say your father never lies, or how old you were when you started wearing glasses. I want to know everything. I want you to ask me questions, like why I don’t go back home on breaks, or where the scar on my cheekbone came from. I want you to know everything. There’s a confession or two cuffed in the space between us, like skipped rocks in the dead silent lake stretching from me to you, breaking and sinking into a dark place I’m tempted to venture.\
    Your father’s dead, and you’ve always worn glasses that weren’t quite the right prescription. You like the slight blur, the vague fluff surrounding everything hard and straight-edged. I’m not sure there’s a home waiting for me anywhere, and when I was 10 a kid jammed a stick into my moving bike tire and sent me careening over the handle bars. I having stopped falling and crashing head-first since, but maybe you already knew that. Maybe you’d already read the silence between us. Maybe you were eons ahead of me this whole time.
    I could sweep your hair behind your ear, and ask what you worried about as a kid, but that’s not important now, is it? I’m starting to understand why we don’t ask questions anymore, now that we have far bigger things to worry about than if the stars are going to be out that night or if we could eat our popsicles faster than they could melt down our fingers. I’ve got a torch to light the skies between us, been holding it this entire time, but when was the last time you needed my help to see in the dark? Maybe you never needed it, and maybe you just kept me around for the company, but I can’t bring myself to leave. Can’t bring myself to sit out here on this hill alone, watching distant torches light the sky and wondering about secrets I never knew.

  9. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    June 30, 2015 7:43pm UTC
    Facebook reveals all of the bigots.

  10. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    June 29, 2015 8:38pm UTC
    And one day, I will lie over on my side, rest my head over your heart, let you embrace the soft horizon of my shoulders, and listen to the sound of rain fall between your ribs. One day, I will grow into the eaves that hollow your sides, worship the wrinkles on your palms when they skitter across my skin, and memorize the spread and lengths of your storms. One day, I will be so in love with you I won’t be able to understand how I can still breathe around the fullness in my own chest. But for now, I am just learning what sunlight does to your eyes when given the opportunity to disintegrate the woes that plague them. For now, I am just becoming accustomed to the bend and break of your laugh when you aren’t filtering what you allow yourself to feel. For now, I am only beginning to taste the heady, melted feeling that comes when I make you smile. For now, I can only accept what you are willing to trust with me, and one day I will tell you that it will always be enough.

  11. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    June 13, 2015 12:49am UTC
    Goals for High School
    • Become a Junior Marshal.
    • Graduate as valedictorian or salutatorian.
    • Get accepted to Duke and/or Wake.
    • Wrack up those scholarships.
    • Graduate with straight A’s.
    • Graduate from Beta club.
    • Breathe. Breathe.
    • Successfully mentor the next business manager in yearbook. They’ve got big shoes to fill. Don’t forget your first year.
    • Soften the social anxiety.
    • Drink more water.
    • Make a bomb senior recognition ad.
    • Keep the squad together.
    • Forgive the ones who hurt you.
    • Accept the losses when they inevitably come,
    • And move on.
    • Lastly, keep the bangs.
    • (They look good on you.)

  12. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    May 31, 2015 10:08pm UTC
    Drabble #51 – I drink you in (and breathe you out)
    I tugged all of my seams loose waiting. I became desperate. I dipped my feet in icy water like you used to when it got too hot. It gave me chills, but not the good kind. I miss when it was ninety degrees outside and you would still make me shiver. Like clouds eclipse over the sun in a concaving blue sky, you always had a way of extinguishing the red in my touch. Sometimes you don’t know something’s broken until you touch it, and feel the empty spaces shift around. Sometimes you don’t know something’s gold until you fit its mold and come away with marks that shimmer.

  13. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    May 24, 2015 7:50pm UTC
    “I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.” ― Khaled Hosseini

  14. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    May 23, 2015 3:15pm UTC
    Drabble #50 – Hot, Top, Flight (Boy I’m out of sight)
    My toes are curling against the worn, chapped leather of your soles and I’m wondering what roads you have traveled for them to be so weathered. I’m sure if I walked across the moon, I would feel you in the dust beneath me, breathe you in with the stars like little candied bursts painting the universe on my lungs. Well, I too have been plucked like the strings of a fiddle. I have been strum to the beat of someone else’s heart all along. And we're walking down this path and the treetops are howling and I’m thinking… maybe that’s not so bad.

  15. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    May 14, 2015 7:08pm UTC
    Drabble #49 – 花様年華
    The sun is shining, and maybe I’m just daydreaming but you always seem to have the most beautiful gold flecks glittering just under your skin, like someone crumbled up the moon and sprinkled it across your cheeks. I kind of like that—how you get under my skin and stay there, like you belong. There are two cars parked on the side of the road and you’re resting against one, singing that song I hate. There’s a wrench in your hand that you keep tossing up, letting it spin in the air and glint against the sun, like gold flecks.

  16. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    May 11, 2015 8:52pm UTC
    For a while, the rain hitting my window
    Sounded like gunshots.
    I would sit back against my curtain,
    And count the bullets.

  17. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    May 9, 2015 9:39am UTC
    Dear you,
    Hey stranger. Remember how I would always take the longest showers, and you would get so frustrated? Lately I’ve noticed, though I suspect it’s always been this way and I just haven’t realized, my shower head has been making the most awful, shrill noises when it’s turned on for too long. It’s the kind of noise that makes you lose your train of thought, and I've wondered if it’s part of the reason why you didn’t come back. I tried everything to make it stop; twisting it, lowering the pressure, taking it apart; and nothing has worked. I can’t think at all like I used to be able to, so I’ve had less time to sort out my emotions. But I guess I can’t complain, it’s warm and showers aren’t really for thinking, they’re for getting clean.
    I used to hang up wrinkled shirts in the bathroom while I showered so that the steam could straighten them out—you and I both know I would be disastrous with an iron—but lately they’ve been staying wrinkled. I’ve turned the water on as hot as it will go to make more steam, but the shirts remain wrinkled even then.
    Naturally, the steam fogs up my mirror now, so it’s difficult to see myself. But there’s a small spot where, (I have no idea who did it, but I have the strangest feeling it was you) if I squint, I can barely make out my irises. It’s not much, but it’s enough for me to brush my hair in the right direction most mornings.

  18. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    May 3, 2015 2:35pm UTC
    A bird the color of sunlight when it shines through ocean water sat directly across from me, caged and endlessly annoying. For the past hour, it had been picking feed from its food bowl and tossing it outside of its cage, the stiff corn kernels bouncing off of the linoleum with a clack. The bird continued this until its bowl was empty, to which it started tapping its small black beak against the ceramic in the same repetitious clacking noise. I stared blankly at the bird, eyes unfocused and unseeing. I tapped my almost-empty glass against the table a beat behind the bird, lost in some mindless game of push and pull where I didn’t quite know who the enemy was. I couldn’t tell who enjoyed the monotonous echo more, me or the bird. Truthfully, it was driving me insane, but that wasn’t to say it was particularly unpleasant. Really, I knew exactly who the enemy was.

  19. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    April 3, 2015 12:13pm UTC
    "welcome to the monster plaza"
    You cannot sleep tonight.
    And as your mind, a blur, chases that imaginative, fickle mistress, a voice rings out,
    Blessed be the Night! For we are but carcasses to the offering, and I am so thankful… Praise the light into which you were born! Kiss the soft curve of Night’s sweet promise. This is Night, and it is a good night.
    If slumber is a gentle caress to the weary traveler, then this is a glimpse at death. And to share such a thing is to lovingly whisper, experience this sliver of eternity with me. I do not want to do it alone.
    Give yourself to the slaughter, and it will give itself to you.
    Pause, as though you are trying to find the meaning behind your words. Choke on the cadence in your throat.

  20. *gloomy* *gloomy*
    posted a quote
    March 31, 2015 11:15pm UTC
    We’re those paint drops seconds before they hit the canvas.
    You might never know where they’ll land,
    And maybe it won't be the picture you wanted to paint,
    But there’ll always be someone who will appreciate it.


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