love
All you need is Love, and Love is all you need.
The Diary
For three nights now, the dream just will not stop. There’s a box, plain, cardboard, the size of a $15 flat rate shipment. Something makes her flinch, worried, afraid of being caught, but she opens it anyway. Inside are haphazard stacks of dollar bills, twenties, fifties, hundred-dollar bills, some in red rubber bands, some in green, some in blue, no system, no order. When she reaches for a stack, to touch it and make it real, to feel its weight, her hand falls to the box’s bottom. As if a mirage, the money is gone and her head is banging and she’s so, so thirsty.
By Mary Melcer5 years ago in Humans
7 Best Ideas to Send Valentine's Gift for Her
Are you looking to surprise your lady on Valentine’s Day? It is not a tedious task while you consider buying the gift by considering the lady’s preference. There are some truths, preferences, and tastes of women that will differ one by one. If you’re not having more time and ideas to surprise your lady, it is the right one for you to read. Following lines from this article give you the list of the best ideas to send Valentine’s Day gifts for your lady with the best surprises.
By Laxmi Rana5 years ago in Humans
Hardly Ever Wanted
I only know how to feel when I am wanted. And girls like me are hardly ever wanted. People around me make me feel this way. As if I don’t belong here in this world. They give you this feeling that just hurts and destroys you. It’s a feeling so lonely it leaves a stench in the pit of my stomach. So each time I open up my mouth to say something that holds even the littlest of meaning to me, it rots even before it makes it out. All because of the people around me. All because of this world called society. I have felt the hand of society press down on me for years. I stare at the scars that litter my skin. The criticism and words make me want to hurt myself. They make me want to open up the very skin that I’m supposed to be living in. The scars open up rivers of possibilities. Rivers that lead to nothing but bad vibes. What is this fear of standing out and being unique? So afraid that we turn to violence to hush those fears. We are so obsessed with dying that no one will notice that they are even there. We can’t be gay without being pushed back in our dusty closets. We can’t be weird without being wrapped up in a cocoon that we were placed in from the beginning. And I am both gay and weird. And for that I was shunned and made to feel like an outcast. But not everyone made me feel like that. There was one person in my life. Reanne. She knew exactly how to make me feel as if I was wanted and that I truly belonged in this world.
By Erika Almanzar5 years ago in Humans
Into the fog
On a quiet afternoon in October, clouds began forming from above, with occasional glimpses of sun. Eloise appeared in the distance, looking around for Angus. In her own way, she found those glimpses of sun in his eyes, despite the storm within her. A light drop of rain delicately landed on her forehead as she breathed in and took in the scene. As the sun crept down behind the mountains, and the rain began to fall, Eloise became slightly impatient waiting to meet Angus for their dinner date for the ways that she looked forward so much to seeing him every week. Checking the time on her watch, she decided to give Angus a call. On the third ring, Angus answered with chatter in the background.
By Jasmine McMorran5 years ago in Humans
The Ticket
I’m younger. I can feel that immediately. It’s not that I have fewer aches and pains, or even that I’m thin with perky breasts. It’s more that my spirit feels lighter, less burdened by time. I breathe easier; again, not in a physical sense, but in the sense that I have yet to fill my lungs with air taken in gasps of fear or gulps of rage. My lungs are still breathing with whimpers of surprise, sighs of joy, moans of pleasure.
By Mayra Martinez5 years ago in Humans
LITTLE BLACK BOOK
You're tired of being lonely. Earlier this week, you passed a bookstore with a green hand on the door, and a little black book in the window had caught your eye. It was a worn book, obviously secondhand, with SPELLS, VOLUME 1 embossed in tiny gold script on the spine, barely noticeable. Thumbing through it, you noticed the table of contents included a chapter on Love Spells. You bought it, desperate to fill the aching hole inside. Tonight is Saturday night, and once again, you are home alone. You microwave a Hungry Man dinner--Chipotle BBQ Sauced Boneless Chicken "Wyngz". The bland potato mush sticks in your throat, threatening to choke you--one of your greatest fears, as you live by yourself and are not sure how to give yourself the Heimlich. Feeling equal parts ridiculous and desperate, you grab the brown paper bag that is buried under a pile of mail--hidden intentionally from view, as you had been embarrassed as soon as you stepped out of the bookstore.
By Diana gonzeaux 5 years ago in Humans
