Days in the Life of a Goddess

Speaking of humans, how are they these days? How's their work going? Are they enjoyin' themselves? How grand. I hoped they would. Speaking of people, how much time do they have left? 2,5 millions heartbeats only? Painful, are they? Aren't they lucky. I wish I had heartbeats. Speaking of couples, how are their fights these days? Heartcrushing? Heartbreaking? Lots of screaming and crying that wounds and tears? Good for them. It's only healthy. Speaking of this, how are you these days? Are you happy yet? Has Luck showed up at your door yet? No? Then maybe you should go find it. Or make one yourself. If you're unhappy with only having mud to work with, be happy that you're not me. I've got only me. No group to call my own, humans. No life to grasp when wondering who I am, people. No place to return to, couples. Not even you, whom I'm trying to reach with these words. My words are too thin and frail even on this sturdy paper. A paper that I'm gluing my first and last breath onto, because I want, really want to change it all.

her insides were cold, except the heat radiating from her fast-beating heart. mascara smeared everywhere, tears falling all over her shirt. she felt so weak and small, she held her own hand as she listened to him talk...
"I'm a fuck up. you know I'm a fuck up. why are you with a fuck up?"
she mumbled, "...because." it had always come so natural to her, loving him. she never stopped to think twice about why she would be with him. she never even realized that he was exactly fucked up. as she tried to collect her thoughts, the only thing that came to mind was how could I not be with you? fucked up or not, you are my heart. with every fiber of my being, I hold you in my chest. you are everything. you are all I need.
she finally replied, tears still streaming, "everyones fucked up. but at the end of the day, why would you be with someone who's seemingly perfect when all you really want is that other fucked up piece that completes the hole you have in yourself?"

Current Location: kitchen
Current Mood: tired

My breath, loud and clear

My feet hurt, is he nearly here?

I’m running for my life, I’m running for my pride

I’m scared to death and there’s nowhere to hide

The air is cold, it burns my throat

I wonder if my heart would stop

I hear him coming, I hear him run

‘Oh,’ I thought ‘I am done’

Tears come streaming down my face

The forest is mocking me, impenetrable like a maze

A desperate cry escapes my mouth

Where is north, and where is south?

As my killer, my friend stands over me again

 I whisper a prayer to the stars, to the moon

Oh, ye all – one day comes the doom

If I’d only listened to him, my death wouldn’t come so soon

The darkness is thick, it clouds my mind

Oh, I thought he was selfless and kind

But now it all ends and a figure of dark, a figure of hope

A figure of pain lends me a hand, says ‘Come darling, your life has come to an end’

Title: None yet, I'm still coming up blank.
Written by: bree_bee22
Rating: T
Words: 1,716
Summary: Cameron Moody was a simple man with a simple goal: to live his life unperturbed. But when he finds himself morally obligated to help an injured woman, she decides she must pay him back at any cost- even if that cost means his annoyance.

Warnings: I have visited New York City once but I definitely don’t know my way around there, so if I happen to take liberties with facts, try to forgive the smaller ones and correct the larger ones you find. This story is probably cliché, but I’m okay with that. This chapter will probably end up as chapter 2 somewhere down the line if I can successfully work out an idea I have for a sub-plot. Please, tear it apart if you will, but I'd appreciate if it's constructive. Does it flow well? How's the pacing? Are the settings/characters/timelines believable? Am I just wasting my time? (I might argue with you on that last one.) Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it, and thank you.

Current Mood: chipper

Title: The Stranger
Description: Middle-aged mediocre family man leads a predictable boring life until a stranger changes everything.

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How can I explain to you what I myself couldn't understand until the end?

My name is Wade Gardener, a 47 year old accountant who was living a mediocre life with my lackluster wife Helen who I was beginning to suspect hated my guts, and our 11 year old son David, who in an apocalypse probably wouldn't notice anything until the battery ran out in his iPod. I hated my life, but I didn't realize it until a stranger pointed it out. She said that I wore my misery like an ugly tie, and I hated to admit that she was right.
 

This is the story of how a stranger saved my life.

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