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Sewer ManIt felt instantaneous. As if I had gone to sleep normal, and woke up deranged. As if in a single moment, I had become what I am. I don't deny it, either my being deranged, that is. Any man, and I use the term "man" loosely, is deranged if they stray too far from the social focal point; and by God have I done that much!
It started as a fascination, grew to be an active interest, and eventually became what I recognize to be an obsession. I even remember the day that I completely regarded myself as obsessed or rather, deranged. I remember my insanity became so consuming that I submitted my humanity to it. Yes, that is why I use the term "man" loosely, because I often question if I am one.
To me, a "man" is one who thrives in social environments. There are odd balls, but even those who are troubled are still "man." However, sometimes you get these exceptions. You get these transgenders. These people who may or may not have social skills, just as a male in a female's body may
Note to SelfYou. Yes, you. This note has been written specifically to you and its contents are of the utmost importance.
Why should you trust me?
I am you from the future.
If you tell anyone this note exists, they either won't believe you or they won't understand the significance. The words will mean nothing to the stubborn and will be impossibly dilute to the gullible. You are alone in this.
I have written this to warn you.
In exactly thirteen minutes, you will die. You need to evacuate your home as quickly as possible. Once again, if you don't, you will die.
I don't have the time to explain the complex series of events that have led up to this moment, just realize that this is a matter of life and death for us both. Do not throw our life away. Please, get out immediately.
If you don't want to leave, AT LEAST turn on all the lights you can find. Then there is a chance it won't find you. A slim chance.
Before I end this message, I must stress what I said earlier: I am you from the future. I
SometimesI wish I could understand myself better.
I want to know what to do.
There is this constant feeling of lethargy crawling on my skin. There is this sudden and fleeting turmoil in my body. And no matter what I try, it never goes away.
Sometimes I'm depressed, other times not. Well, I'm always a little depressed, because that is just how it is. Depression seems to go hand in hand with confusion; at least, it does when you're confused about yourself. How could it not? We are the most important things in this universe.
The universe is seen through us, by us. By not understanding myself, by feeling this chaotic, lethargic, confusion, I'm not understanding the universe which is the most important thing in ourselves.
I've learned a lot through introspection and comparison. I give them credit for my pseudo-intellectualism. Pseudo-intellectualism being the title I dub my ability to appear far more intelligent than I actually am. Then again, I guess I could call it the same thing everybody
Max and Boston, a Pokemon FanfictionMax pulled his face out of the mud and wiped his cheeks. He was panting, struggling to catch his breath. His whole body ached and his eyes were beginning to water. He glanced back at his trainer, looking for some kind of guidance, for kind of command, but none came. All he saw was confusion and panic; it was all he ever saw in Boston. He started blinking rapidly, attempting to arouse himself; he could no longer think clearly. In the corner of his eye he saw a brown creature moving with terrifying speed, and instantly he knew what was coming. His entire body tensed as he braced for impact. A powerful kick to the face sent him flying backwards, on to his back.
Max's eyes opened. The world seemed to be flying by him. Lights were blurring past and everything was blending together, leaving him distraught and afraid. Instinctively, he looked for comfort, for anything familiar. First, all he could make out was a man above and behind him, but he didn't recognize him. He was beginning to panic.
Theme Four: ChangeSome envy the sex. Others the money. And some envy it all. They wish they could have what I have. They wish they could indulge in the treasures I've amassed. They wish they would have been born with that sensation to persevere. They want to have that inborn compulsion to advance. And if they could, they would shamelessly rob me of it.
But can I blame them? It must look like such a decadent life from the outside. To take pleasure in the stresses of progression and to unwind by basking in the things I worked so hard to attain. I must look as though I was blessed by God. I must look like I am a God; some sort of divine entity sent to earth to instruct the lesser how to live. Yet, I am not without flaw. I am not without doubt. Nor am I without misery.
Through years of walking the same road, the same path of responsibility and logic, I have done two things: (1) I have created an unbreakable habit, a thing that I am obligated to obey until the day I die, or suffer the consequences which are
Theme Three: ContentI have been walking through this desert for a lifetime. From the moment I was born and until the day I die. I have walked side by side with my family, my friends, and even my enemies. I have fallen and danced, and have seen the same happen to my brethren one-hundred fold. Yet, despite all of the inconsistencies, some things remain consistent. Despite all of the fallacy, some things are irrefutable.
It is in these niches that I have found my driving force. It is in these exceptions that I survive the intense heat, bear the loss of love; and above all, focus my attention on enjoying life, as opposed to fixing it.
So many times I've seen those with whom I once walked put faith in unreliable sources of instant gratification. I have seen their logic succumb to desperation as they ran wildly at a mirage, ecstatic with joy at their reward; only to discover their reward to be a poisonous creature, disturbed and angry. And many of them, upon feeling that sting, upon feeling that poison once aga
Past StoriesTitle: Past Stories
Summary: Both Autobots share experience of the past and how they came to be. Turns out both stories are far more interesting than anything else in their life.
Warning: I just read the Drift comic book. It was so epic! But I still have to reread the book to fully understand. Yes I’m that slow, so I won’t put much in Drift’s voice until I fully understand the story. CANONxOC
Word Count: 1,592
If there was one thing that Drift could say, he would want to know more about his friend Snowdew. Of course she has told him that she is a ninja, nothing like him, but served the same purpose. Honor…peace…and love across the galaxy. Drift told her that he is a Cybertronian Knight, though on Earth that is very different. He would consider himself, a samurai in that case. Either way,
Post Transformers Age of Extinction
Summary: Snowdew has been acting strange as of lately. She has been giving everyone a hard time and not able to help them like she used to. Drift soon is about to find out why she has been acting like this when she goes too far with her strange, but devious behavior.
Word Count: 3,478
Being back in Texas everyone thought it was a nice thing. Nice and peaceful. The war finally over and Optimus left go to against the Creators. Yes, everyone thought it was going to be nice and peaceful until Optimus came back.
Well that is where they were wrong.
It was a peaceful morning in Texas on the Yeager farm. The Autobots tended to recharge in the barn where they can stay cool and safe from the elements outside. Of course they can’t see when the sun comes up so sometimes rech
Milo's decision. (Part 1 - Intro)The follow-on from my novella 'Something awful'. The first part of which can be found here: http://kurt-jarram.deviantart.com/art/Something-awful-Part-1-415948935
* * *
That kid knows something. I'm sure he does.
I recognised the look in his eyes. That close but distant look. As though he were staring simultaneously at both the air right on front of him and also some deep, endless void.
Terrible really, to see the look in someone so young. The again, though I required different means in order to achieve it, I couldn't have been much older when I first got it.
I first knew it when I saw him there that night. The time when there was a great crowd of them, all lined up outside the green tower. He could see them, that was obvious, and I'll tell you something, I don't envy the poor, little git. I can be pretty sure that he was sober, which means that, unlike me, he can see them all the time. God, I can't even imagine it.
I suppose most people have never seen one, and most of those who say t
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to crumble up
the remnant pieces
of my love for you
and throw them in the trash
but I'm such a bad shot.
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
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