[x]

The Soul Broker I am the buyer and seller of souls. I've bought them all and I'll buy yours. For the world must run like the gears of a clock, and sometimes you tick or sometimes you tock, but everything given will be taken away and for every silence kept, a word must be said.

Naturally, you must assume there is a cost. For everything gained, a penny is lost; of course this life can be no different--when the check arrives, you must pay the difference. But not all who ride on the sunday train pay the same price to get out of the rain: a king's ransom might

Escape VelocityF = G(m1m2)/r2

Black – true black – is the absence of light. Darkness is defined by what it is not, by the lack of something else. When we say a black hole, we truly mean that; black. Blacker than black. An absence of not only light, but of time, distance, anything.

The night was scary when I was little. I hated the dark, but couldn’t bear to sleep so long as the light was on, any light, burning on the other side of my eyelids. I used to have nightmares about dark things in dark corners, shadowy figures with shadowy fingers trailing along my spine. I always woke up cold and fumbling frantically for the lamp, but the aura o

Complex 57The slick of black, heady oil rolled across the floor, staining the raw surface of the clinic, and the young boy collapsed back into the examination table. He was pale, even for someone who had never seen sunlight, with milky eyes and black spittle hanging from cracked lips.

"Of those we've seen, the virus has spread most quickly in this patient." Doctor Ripnar was a tall man who tended to sway when he walked, but had hands as deft and precise as any surgeon and he used them now to steady and restrain the boy. "His blood is turning into the same substance you see at your feet." he continued, "We might have been able to keep him alive long en

still,"i want grandchildren."

that car ride ruined some things
threw a wine bottle at the wall
15 years sitting
it was good enough or
it wasn't good enough

all the silence forced
my pride to jump out the window
if any rested in her
she showed it off like a speech bubble
tied it to her teeth
slammed it in the door
had it under her pillow for months
and years and years and years

there was no statement
there was no outstretched hand
just steering wheel clenching
knuckles white and jaw taut

(all because who i bed was not her mindful of
timeline perfection)

i still think i'm a tumor

--

she shows it off like a speeding ticket
i

loose lips sink shipsan ocean has been thrown wide open over your head,
and remarkably you, too, are sinkable–

every verbal, every vocal, is dogged by the epiphany:
an ocean has been thrown wide open over your head

and all bodies wreck, ships and submarines.
and remarkably you, too, are sinkable.

FoxholeDearest Ella.

Excuse my handwriting, for I am in an uncomfortable position as I write this. Please take the time to decipher what I have penned down because it is of the utmost importance. You see, Ella, I am cowering in a foxhole. Every few seconds, a shell will land and spray me with dirt and shrapnel. I cannot hear anything but the earth-shaking thunder of explosions, and I cannot see anything because my head is pressed close to the dirt, for fear that a stray chunk of rock or mud will take out my eye. I am waiting to die, you see, just like everyone else in this God-forsaken country. Waiting for that mortar round with my name on it to wh

The Solipsist's LotThere's something about yourself that you don't know. You probably don't remember the circumstances very well, but I do. If you enjoy things the way they are, if you revel in even the smallest speck of ignorance, you need not read ahead. I won't force you. But from what I know of you, you don't like secrets. Especially not when they are about you.

You see, when you were born, so at once was everyone else. Your mother, she sprang into existence, just like that, the instant your tiny infant brain achieved the smallest semblance of self-awareness. Woven out of the ethe

The Substitution ParadigmThe Substitution Paradigm

Ramu came up to our table. Glaring at me, he said, “You either order something or get out.”
I glanced away from the threat, and turned to Raghav. A single drop of sweat was running down his brow. Ramu saw that too and identifying his prey, he sprung.

Swinging around, he faced Raghav, “Order something or get out.”

Then Ramu just stood there. It was not as if we had rehearsed it before hand, but he knew. He knew that my co-occupants generally folded in the first round. Only the stout made it to second level, but they too buckled under Ramu’s relentless gaze.

I always had a policy of n

Imitating NatureThe morning sun streamed through a series of large plate glass windows lining the library's east wall, its rays warming the room's wooden paneling and illuminating the cavernous space. Tall bookshelves stuffed with literature from across the world towered over polished oak reading tables, each furnished with a plain, green-shaded banker's lamp. On the far side, a massive painting gracing the west wall depicted the solemn face of Saint Patrick, whose protective presence could be felt watching over the library's sole visitor.

All was perfectly quiet, save for a tap, tap, tapping that echoed in the otherwise silent room. Seated at a desk near t

A Name You Can Trust Indignant? Disgruntled? Need an attorney who won't back down (no matter how many mafia hit men are on your trail)? Need to sue the smirk off that jerk who dared to diagnose you with anger issues? Tired of “justice” getting in the way of the benefits that you deserve? If you want passionate, aggressive, and ruthlessly persistent legal representation, it’s time you called Winier Trust, an attorney who will stop at nothing (nothing!) to insure you win your case.

Winier Trust is more than just an attorney; he's your personal advocate. Trust works beside you not only as a legal representative, but as a close and c

the hungry look...the hungry look,

the wolves
weaving through
and around
the gully of your throat like wraiths,

we can feel you rusting, lost one;

i know that drainpipes and fenders
begin to crackle after winter wet

and that there’s a touch of snow
in all of us,

but no one,
no one could hold you as tightly as you do,
your whole body, bloodless in this arrest,

and if you will not let your fetters show
i will show you
there’s a place for going, and you haven’t gone there yet;

where quantum particles, once in contact, can retain a connection
even when separated

where you
wander up to a stranger
with your shirt inside-out
and say &lsq

Memories of Battle: Aragorn: First Meeting

Some memories are too dark to bring into the light, and I have seen too many dark things. Do not ask me. I will not recall memories to darken the very light of day; do not ask me about the dark. Ask me about Light.

Ask me about the light, and I will speak. Ask me about the light, and I will tell you of one day when the light was strong. I was young, barely twenty years of age, and had returned from a journey when Elrond called me, he who had been like a father to me.

That day all was changed.

That day, for the first time, I heard the name of my father. That day, for the first time, I saw the heirlooms of my house. That day, for the first t

Resolution Diary2007

Resolution:
Make first million after starting own business.

Progress:
:bulletblack: Applied for a loan. Declined due to excessive account activity. Note: Constant purchasing of rare (albeit mint) wicker chairs is not conducive to bank balance. Wife insistent on selling wicker chairs to find money to start business.
:bulletblack: Bought new donut recipe book. Learnt how to make category hard donut, 'Diamond Swizzler'. Delma loves them.
:bulletblack: James offered to lend the money if he can become a business partner. Potential.
:bulletblack: First million still a long way off. Wife still nagging.
:bulletblack: Spent savings on replacing

They Also Serve Who Only Stand and WaitI don't know when we first went underground. I don't even know if it was one mass exodus, a swarm of mankind trickling through the earth's crust so vehement we carved our own caverns by the force of trampling feet, or whether it was a gradual process, perhaps even a repetitive one, a family here, a neighborhood there. For all I know, the echo of the damp subterranean machine has always reverberated off the cave walls, created long past by the Angels, who think of our well-being even while they shake their heads helplessly at our flaws.

They say that those who remained on the surface were raptured away in a great flash of light, like a millio

the day we diedIt started when space imploded
you pulled me back, landed me on the moon,
so we could sit in the vacuum silence
and watch suns spiral down to hell.

You radiated, my minuscule flare,
your worn heat baked my bones brittle,
but it somehow made me stronger.

-

It ended when your eyes slid lateral,
fractured feelings leaking out in tears;
it was the first and last thing
I ever saw again.

This ridiculous happenstance,
simple in its impossibility,
was what broke us apart:

While solar light is beautiful,
it blinds when reflected by
automobile metal.

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Noun.
The Inability to open one's Eyes; Blindness in th Soul. A locked Door with no Key. Leads to
Fear.
Noun.
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Leads to
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Noun.
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Hate.
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The L WordThe L Word
cannot be said lightly,
cannot be thrown about recklessly.
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seen to be believed.
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her soft whispers, her promises
her hand in yours
and the time it takes to say yes
after the confusion when the L Word is said.
Lesbian.

One Inch Left - Chapter 1Henry felt the scream rip from his mouth before he even knew what happened. He looked up, eyes going wide in terror. His heart pounded painfully against his chest. The smell of smoke and fire polluted the air. He tried to stand up. He could not will his legs to move. He forced his hands to pull him backward when his palm brushed against wetness. He pulled his hand up to his face to see it dyed red. He released a breath of air, almost another scream. He couldn't move back. He was too afraid to see the body that he knew would be lying so close to him.

Tremors wracked his frame. His eyes widened and blurred with frightened tears. Before him was

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I Know How You Feel

by ~QuixoticApricot, Sep 13, 2010, 8:00:20 AM
Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Emotional

Fuck.

It was coming back again. It always came back. You beat the monster until it was bruised and bloody and ducked its head away. You pounded against it until your fingers broke, twisted and crooked and sticking out at all the wrong angles.

But it kept coming back.

You had to fight it, because you couldn't run. Running made things worse. It would come, its form obscured by the darkness that follows it. You run from what you can't see, but it always finds you. It wraps around you, suffocating. Your throat closes, your lungs collapse, suffocating. It squeezes its long fingers just a little tighter around your neck. Your heart pumps nothing but fear until you wish it would pump nothing at all. Anything but this. Squeeze a little tighter, monster. Suck the life out of me, fiend.

So you can't run. Running is giving in. Running is handing yourself over to the monster. Running is your death sentence

I know that now. I know standing to fight is harder. Your body shakes like Haiti. The ground rolls under your feet while you square your shoulders and take a deep breath. You stare it down. Eyes glare back at you. Not red or yellow or any color—just eyes. Staring. Waiting. And you charge before it can put you in its toxic grip.

I start with a kick, with a strength that doesn't belong to me. It's been borrowed from someplace else: a friend, a song.

And sometimes the kick lands. The monster's claws disappear. Then come the punches. They come from yourself, from your strength, and you know that the monster is no match for you. It howls and slides back into its darkness where it lived before. You step out of the arena. Bruises color your skin, your swollen lips bleed, your blood mixes with your hair. But they heal and harden and turn into scars, and your scars are your pride. From them, you become stronger. The more you have, the better you can fight.

And sometimes the kick misses and your punches shatter your bones instead of the monster's. You stumble away and wipe the tears and snot off. You look in the mirror, look at your face—your nose, your teeth, everything—and everything is wrong.

No, you don't know how I feel.

I Know How You Feelby ~QuixoticApricot

Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Emotional

Mature Content

I have an anxiety disorder, and after a lifetime of struggling against it, I thought I finally conquered it. Unfortunately, as these things are wont to do, it came back and the usual stuff I did isn't helping nearly as much as it used to. I've been trying to put everything I feel into words for such a long time, but poems never seemed to do this inescapable fear justice. After a particulary bad night, I just started writing, hoping it would be theraputic. And, actually, it was.

The second reason for writing this is because of that stupid line, "I understand" or "I know how you feel". Few things piss me off more than that. No, you don't understand. Unless you've ever had a panic attack in the middle of class caused by the THOUGHT of talking in front of everyone, unless it takes you an hour to write a one paragraph e-mail because you're afraid to get a response, no, you don't know what it's like.

I also joined a creative writing group on campus and didn't have anything to share. I'm long-winded and really uncomfortable sharing my writing with people face-to-face. I think I would like to bring this in, though.

EDIT: adnfmda;lfeo HOW?! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?! ikandf;adsnfads;nf

I am so humbled and honored that simple, raw piece got a DD. I'm really...wow. I'm just blown away. I'll try to respond to everyone's comments. And a huge-ass thank you to and espcially and , two more brave and talented individuals. Give them some love!

I feel like I should give some sage advice to others who have problems with anxiety, but there's no easy fix for anything like this. Just know that you are not alone, and YOU ARE FUCKING AWESOME.

EDIT 2: I wasn't expecting so many people to tell me their personal stories, or just saying that they were glad that they didn't feel alone anymore. I wrote a journal entry for those struggling with anxiety, going through the different types, techniques most commonly used to treat it, and my own tips and tricks: [link]

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Given 2013-03-05

~QuixoticApricot "passionately describes the struggle with social anxiety disorder" in I Know How You Feel (suggester's words). ( Suggested by ~NecroTiger and Featured by ^neurotype )

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~ArrowDel Mar 29, 2013 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Totally relate, I used to have to carry an inhaler around partially because I am asthmatic, but also because simply being asked a question in class and being expected to answer with everyone else there...would set it off. The thought of it still sets my heart thumping... I'm very lucky now that since I've gotten older I have friends that sort of understand what I go through and will actively cover for me now.

~QuixoticApricot Apr 2, 2013 Writer

My friends are pretty much my saving grace. This was written during my senior year of college when I was dreading leaving school and all of them. I'm glad you have friends that understand...I don't know how I would have gotten through the past six years without mine.

~izzabelable Mar 15, 2013 New member Hobbyist General Artist

Perfect, thank you...l can tell that YOU know how I feel...and that's amazing..thank you

~QuixoticApricot Apr 2, 2013 Writer

Thank you.

~doublethefun Mar 9, 2013

spot on

~QuixoticApricot Apr 2, 2013 Writer

Thank you.

~CheshireCat521 Mar 8, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

I fear presentation so much. Just thinking about it can break me down to tears. It's like my whole world is going to dimolish... Thx so much for writing this and making me realize I'm not alone. My classmates are mean ppl. When I freak out, I was left alone in my tears and I felt so cold. Thx for warming me up. A well deserved DD!

~QuixoticApricot Apr 1, 2013 Writer

I firmly believe that presentations are sent from hell to make us miserable. I've always tried to skip school on days when I had to present something, but I always found putting it off just made it worse. I'm sorry your classmates don't seem to understand.

What's effortless for someone is sheer misery for someone else. But you're not alone, and I hope that you find something that helps you make it through, and people who understand.

~NightshadeLies Mar 8, 2013

I'm glad this got a DD, I hope more people will understand. I have an anxiety disorder too. I ge so annoyed with people who tell me it's just in my head. I'm in high school, and none of my teachers understand the disorder. They don't get why I shake so much presenting stuff.

Thanks for writing this, though.

~QuixoticApricot Apr 1, 2013 Writer

High school was...hell. I would try to skip school on days when I had to present something, I've run out of classrooms crying before, and I nearly failed chemistry because I couldn't attend the study group that everyone else in my school went to. Things got so much better for me when I got to college and made some of the most awesome friends I've ever had. Before a couple discussion classes I took, I explained to my professors that I have anxiety problems and just asked them to be patient with me. They were pretty obliging once I told them and helped me get through those terrible presentations. I hope you get through high school and find people who understand and accept you just the way you are.

I've been there, and it's awful, but things do get better.

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