Relationships
Love is lie
StartThese are the exact words Avantika says always. She is a very silly, crazy, smart, and intelligent girl (all at once because of mood swings). She stopped believing in love after his beloved Dadaji's death which occurred when she was in 12th and one more reason was temporary relations being created now n then which was not in her ethics. She doesn't believe in time pass and one more reason for being a book worm and not interested in guys
By Dpyadav Yadav4 years ago in Pride
Gluteus Maximus
2 Gluteus Maximus Evening had finally come, allowing Jaye and Jean time to relax together on their couch, watching yet another installment of Sharknado(. It was one of the few programs they both enjoyed. Honey, Jay started, Will you rub my butt? Sure, wait til the commercial okay? Jaye jumped up and ran to the bathroom to pee and take off her shoes.
By Jacqueline Gabrielle4 years ago in Pride
Beneath the Cerulean Sky
You don't love someone because they're perfect, you love them in spite of the fact that they are not. Merritt Palmerston constantly ponders on such wise words of Jodi Picoult, even if he believes that they do not apply to him. Hanging just above the bathroom sink, a large looking glass reflects a charismatic, dirty-blond guy with eyes of azure and a razor sharp jaw who is blossoming in his early twenties; that reflection becomes entangled from the distortion of a turbulent mind, ravaged by the storms of depression and self-doubt. His mind often assures him that he will forever remain alone on the roller coaster that is life. Why would he even deserve love, he often thinks to himself. No one would ever love him, such a devastating whirlwind of emotional, damaged goods. That's right, he thinks to himself, he is damaged goods, tossed aside by a society bent on the perfection of Instagram influencers. He picked up a comb in an attempt to tame his thick mane of rebellious hair. Although it is cut in a fashion that he can style it like a quiff, such attempts are always futile; it always manages to find a way to become disheveled, befitting of his meandering fate of life full of unrelenting disappointment. He eventually managed to form some sort of style resembling the quiff and walked into his chambers to retrieve his knapsack. His first day of winter semester at the Institute of Archaeology at the University of the Highlands and Islands in Orkney starts today, and barring any unpredictable, yet completely predictable misfortune for him, he did not wish to be late. He tossed the emerald green knapsack over his shoulders, exited the tiny cottage, and made his way to class on foot.
By Josh Howard4 years ago in Pride
Soul Bloom
The ink bloomed on her skin with such vibrancy it could be confused for true blossoms. Even in the soft light of a candle the brilliance was not diminished. Her shallow breathing told me she had slipped into sleep and my heavy eyes warned me that I was not far behind. I fought the pull of drowsiness however, eager to never waste a moment, particularly rare ones such as these. I loved her dearly in the waking hours, she contained more energy than a lake filled with coffee and a laugh that could wake the night. I even loved the sleepy afternoons when she mumbled whatever was rolling through her mind; but the moments of quiet, unfiltered, unedited ‘her’ were something else. Careful to not disturb her, but unable to resist, I traced the tiny garden displayed across her hip; tulip, gladiolus, rose, lavender. Each flower was beautifully hand picked, each represented a unique meaning for her. I traced circles around the marigold with a smile playing at my lips, it was possibly the brightest amongst the garden with its golden splendor. The marigold always made me think of her; vibrant, loud and giving - the perfect home for bees, and for me. Marigolds, like every flower, have a specific meaning and their meaning suited her beyond casual coincidence. It was as if she had bloomed with the first golden flourish before the world realised her splendor and plucked her from the ground. A beautiful curse, petals trapped in bones. A living reflection of warmth and joy. Everything has a shadow however and my personal understanding of the duality of the meaning of marigolds came from knowing her. They are also a symbol of jealousy, grief, and despair; all the colours I would paint myself with if she was ever taken from me. In the shadow of these thoughts an idea formed and I still wore the smile it brought me as I blew out the candle and sleep took me. I swear even in the darkness that flower glowed.
By Obsidian Words4 years ago in Pride
Two Sentences in Apartment 5C
“Are you seriously going to eat that?” Sasha was hunched over the retro-style refrigerator, long enough for the fridge light to go out. Her almond eyes were squeezed firmly shut as beads of sweat rolled from her temples to the bridge of her nose. Even for July, this Arizona heatwave was sickening. Her hand was holding a container of the last remaining item from last night’s takeout disaster: a slice of Double-Dutch Death By Chocolate Cake. They’d ordered in, from the same ridiculous diner where they’d met three years ago. This had become their default anniversary dinner. However, last night they bit off more than they could chew from this expensive hipster establishment built solely to separate the local private university’s enrollees from their parents’ allowances.
By Omotara James4 years ago in Pride
In a Moment
The click of a gas burner sounds through the open kitchen and the fire of azure and red-yellow hues springs to life adding warmth around the space. The clank of pots and pants being sifted through in a lower cupboard cut through the otherwise silent room. Delicate huffs of approval vocalize once the desired pot is found and set upon the heated stove with a muffled thud. Selene walks a few feet to the cupboard next to the fridge and pulls out the last remnants of semi-sweet chocolate morsels to heat and melt down. It’s supposed to give her dessert that extra chocolatey kick that would have even the most muted palates humming in appreciation. She pauses in appreciation of the enticing, bright packaging--it’s supposed to be the best in the market.
By Madelyne Velez4 years ago in Pride
Carrot Cake
Meredith always hated birthdays, she just didn't see the point in all the hubbub. She hadn't asked to be born after all and it certainly wasn't an achievement. Yet, here she was standing at the bakery counter picking up a chocolate cake for her own birthday. She didn't even like chocolate all that much but her mother had insisted on a party and had already paid for the cake.
By Savannah Rose Hannum4 years ago in Pride
