Relationships
Green Light
I didn’t normally walk on the boardwalk at night alone. Not because it was dangerous, but because being surrounded by so many jovial merchants, kids laughing, and lovers on dates typically left me feeling sad and lonely, like fulfillment was evading me, and me alone. The smell of the funnel cakes always made me nauseous, and it would linger in my chest, saccharine and cheap, until I felt like I couldn’t breathe. It was an unwelcome reminder of my general aversion to joy. The radio host on the station they blare over the speakers has a voice like a dial tone and it would loop in my head like The Hum. I still know it like the back of my hand. The air smells like stale cotton candy and gum that’s been pressed into the pavement with sneakers and the best places to see the water are crowded with cigarette smokers and tourists. I hated the boardwalk. I really did. In my experience, it was just an exhibition of joys- a set up to remind me that my mind is a rabid fiend looking to taint everything golden. Sometimes it felt like it existed just to remind me that no joy survives my mind, and to taunt me with the idea that I may be the only one. I never wanted to be there. Ever. But if ever there was a time I couldn’t stand the mere idea of crossing through that godforsaken stretch, it was that night. I’d just been harassed by some of the regulars at the local co-ed gym who adamantly claimed to be under the influence of my attire…and they got pretty nasty. I ran off in tears. The last thing I needed that night was to enter another sadistic liminal space. Somehow, however, I knew I was meant to go there. It started with an unexplainable tingling in my bones, a hysteria in my aura; something beckoning me to walk that way. I brushed it off at first, reasoning that it was just delirium as a result of the 3 and a half hours I had just spent at the gym…but the thing about omens and inklings, I suppose, is that you can’t really ignore them.
By Marina Arkana4 years ago in Pride
Living Without Love - Being Aroace
Whether we realise it or not, the world we live in pushes romance on us at every opportunity. Fairy tales are often centred around someone finding their 'one true love', partners are often referred to as someone's 'better' half or parts, apparently around 60% of songs are love songs (though different sources suggested different amounts) and anyone without a partner (especially if they are older) is usually depicted as sad and lonely or wishing that they did have one.
By Indie Warren4 years ago in Pride
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 Yadav5 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 Gabrielle5 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 Howard5 years ago in Pride
