I wanted to share this with you guys because it is by far the most beautiful moment of my life.

It happens to be the day I flew back. The flight back to England was very long, only because I knew what was waiting on the other side and I couldn't wait to see him again.

When I got off the plane, I don't think I have run faster in my life. I stood in front of the area where the bags were coming out and acted like some kind of idiot really because I was literally pacing around it trying to get my bags out as fast as possible. I borrowed a stranger's phone to call Kurt at that moment because I knew when I crossed those doors, he would be waiting for me on the other side. And when I walked out with my trolley of stuff, there he was. Right in the middle wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans, his arms open wide to grab me, I could see him before I even walked out of the doors at Heathrow. I left my trolley at that point because honestly, I didn't give a damn where it went and in seconds I was running, running as fast as I could towards him. We met somewhere in the middle and I jumped into his arms...I have never hugged anyone harder in my life!

And then...the kiss. That moment, when his lips touched mine again, I knew at that very moment I never ever wanted to be parted from him again... That second, that kiss in the middle of Heathrow Airport, the noisiest, loudest place in the world, completed me to the point that I know now, no matter what happens everything is going to be all right. He is my world...this man with his Knight heart and Dragon soul. I couldn't ask for any more love or happiness.

I feel...for the first time in my life...complete.

Zij Hebben mij in een leven zonder zin geworpen, maar dat leven leven kan pas zin krijg als Ik myself verder in werp... Ik heb nu zin in mij leven..


They have thrown me into a life without sense..but that life will start to make sense if i through myself further in...
My life has now sense!


Because of Her

Make a mistake, you really pay for it.

I made the mistake of loving my parents despite knowing my mother to be the person who cares more about what her high society friends think than her daughter. I'm on my very last trip back to India because my parents wanted me to come back and see them. I made an effort to make them comfortable back in my home back at university when they came to visit (They were dropping my brother off to school in Scotland). And not just me. K made an effort as well. They loved him. Thought he was an amazing person.

K told me that I needed to be honest with my mother, tell her everything I have been through over the past six years. I knew he was right. My family did need to know, and on one of my last days in the UK, I sat my mother down and told her everything. From beginning to end.

She was very sympathetic over there. Little did I know that it was just to make sure I came back there.

When I got back here, my mother made some things very clear to me. That she did not want me marrying or being with K ("He's a lovely boy and you can have him as a friend for life, but you need a rich boy and one we choose for you.") and that I have to delete or bury the last six years of my life ("Just bury all those experiences as far deep down as you can bury them. We are Indian. We live in this class of society. People from good families don't let their daughters get raped and I don't want anyone knowing that we have."). She is under the impression that I am going to stay/she is going to keep me here.

She even went on to compare my experiences with a friend who had an extra marital affair and said rape and miscarriage was essentially the same thing. I should not even discuss it with my partner when I get married. EVER.

One of the things that hurt me most were the words, "Some things are not worn like a badge." My breaking down in front of her and telling her everything has given her the impression that I am proud of what happened to me, because I do not hide my story, I use it to help other people. How can I explain to someone like that, that my past is not a badge. My past is the scars on my soul. Just because I use those scars positively, I try to create using those scars, I don't deserve to be told that I am proud of being raped. Who says that to their child?

Needless to say, my mother and I are not on speaking terms anymore. I cannot describe the tears, the stress, the unhappiness...I've said this before...I will work as a bagging girl rather than do this anymore. Even if things don't work out between K and me (which is doubtful, because I absolutely adore him and I know he loves me too.), I would rather be alone than give up who I am.

My experiences do not define me. But they have moulded me into who I am. And I kind of like who I am. I do not want to be a shallow, superficial person who is more worried about her latest set of diamonds than helping people.

This is why, my mother and who she is, is the reason why I am going to go on to work with children who have PTSD, Dyslexia and mainly psychosis based learning disabilities that come from a terrible past. I plan to get my PhD, then use that knowledge to work as a learning aid, and soon an art therapist. I want to make a change, to help. And for that I need support, not two people who are supposed to support me and have fought me every step of the way because they want me to get a nine to five as an advertising executive (I've tried that. Lots of money, least fulfilling job in the world.).

My parents refuse to support the decisions I have made in my life as pertains to my career, because, I suppose, it must be very difficult for them to understand that helping people is more fulfilling than anything that gives me lots of money.

K gets it. My friends get it. Even my cousins get it.

And they don't expect me to bury who I am for it.

I WILL go on to help people. I WILL be happy. And I DO NOT need my parents permission to go on to help anyone.

Sometimes, just sometimes...severing family ties is the only thing you have left to do. Its sad. But it is true.

P.S. No one, especially your parents, should tell you post rape, post trauma, "You should have protected yourself better. You're too trusting. That is why this happened to you." After these words, anything which is said, or done for you becomes nothingness because that person needs to be deleted from your life. Rape is no one's fault but the person who raped you. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. Not even family.

Make a mistake, you really pay for it.

I made the mistake of loving my parents despite knowing my mother to be the person who cares more about what her high society friends think than her daughter. I'm on my very last trip back to India because my parents wanted me to come back and see them. I made an effort to make them comfortable back in my home back at university. And not just me. K made an effort as well. They loved him. Thought he was an amazing person.

K told me that I needed to be honest with my mother, tell her everything I have been through over the past six years. I knew he was right. My family did need to know, and on one of my last days in the UK, I sat my mother down and told her everything. From beginning to end.

She was very sympathetic over there. Little did I know that it was just to make sure I came back there.

When I got back here, my mother made some things very clear to me. That she did not want me marrying or being with K ("He's a lovely boy and you can have him as a friend for life, but you need a rich boy and one we choose for you.") and that I have to delete or bury the last six years of my life ("Just bury all those experiences as far deep down as you can bury them. We are Indian. We live in this class of society. People from good families don't let their daughters get raped and I don't want anyone knowing that we have."). She is under the impression that I am going to stay/keep me here.

Needless to say, my mother and I are not on speaking terms anymore. I cannot describe the tears, the stress, the unhappiness...I've said this before...I will work as a bagging girl rather than do this anymore. Even if things don't work out between K and me (which is doubtful, because I absolutely adore him and I know he loves me too.), I would rather be alone than give up who I am.

My experiences do not define me. But they have moulded me into who I am. And I kind of like who I am. I do not want to be a shallow, superficial person who is more worried about her latest set of diamonds than helping people.

This is why, my mother and who she is, is the reason why I am going to go on to work with children who have PTSD, Dyslexia and mainly psychosis based learning disabilities that come from a terrible past. I plan to get my PhD, then use that knowledge to work as a learning aid, and soon an art therapist. I want to make a change, to help. And for that I need support, not two people who are supposed to support me and have fought me every step of the way because they want me to get a nine to five as an advertising executive (I've tried that. Lots of money, least fulfilling job in the world.).

My parents refuse to support the decisions I have made in my life as pertains to my career, because, I suppose, it must be very difficult for them to understand that helping people is more fulfilling than anything that gives me lots of money.

K gets it. My friends get it.

And they don't expect me to bury who I am for it.

I WILL go on to help people. I WILL be happy. And I DO NOT need my parents permission to go on to help anyone.

Sometimes, just sometimes...severing family ties is the only thing you have left to do. Its sad. But it is true.

This is going to be long and stupidly detailed but I think I need to get this out because I have a feeling that I may not be the only girl with a story like this.

A couple of years ago I met a boy called S. He was kind, quiet and made me coffee every morning at an office we both despised for what it represented. I fell head over heels for his quiet charm, his music, his soothing voice: who he was. Except I didn't really know who he really was. Slowly, over the course of the relationship, he began to point out things he didn't like about me. He didn't like the way I overused certain phrases, the way I spoke, the way I sang, and he didn't want to listen to me talk about my past because it burdened him, and he didn't like that...basically all the little things that made me, ME would have to change. This is where I made the most critical mistake.

I changed for him.

I changed who I was to please S. And do you know what? The more I changed to suit his needs, the more demands he put on me. But I had already fallen for him by then and there was no going back from that. I helped him with his scholarship work, his english exam, his insecurities about not being able to make it. Because that is what you DO in a relationship. I never wanted anything back, except his love in return.

I never received it.

To cut a long story short, this man:

1. Hid me for six months from his friends and family.
2. Let other girls flirt with him in front of me.
3. Neglected me completely then became highly insecure when I left for the UK to pursue my studies.
4. Made a huge scene on facebook about a status that wasn't even about him (!)
5. Got really upset if I hung out with my friends.
6. Told me I deserved to be raped (not even a month past the incident) and I wasn't the one, he needed to find someone like him.
7. Accused me of cheating on him when I moved on with a kinder man who had actually been there for me post my rape after we had broken up (Snooped through my facebook and email on MY laptop whilst I was out, drew his own conclusions and made me feel like I was a slut for NOTHING. After a break up, my life is MY LIFE. Not his, but he didn't see it like that.)
8. Acted like my losing his child meant nothing, and my being upset/broken over it was a massive inconvenience to him.
9. Didn't even take the child's name, ever and started checking out other girls on the first night I had recovered enough to go out with him.
10. Didn't pick up his phone AFTER he had been told I was in an ambulance to even find out if I was still alive or DEAD.
11. Told his mother I CHEATED when I did NOT (see number 7), and of course no matter what happens now she will hate me. I don't blame her one bit if she does (she doesn't know me and has been told the most horrible thing by him about me), but I do want to kill him for doing that to me with a person who I have never even met but loved and respected because she is his mother.
12. Lied about the amount of girls he had slept with by SEVEN.
13. Asked me for help with EVERYTHING, from emails he wrote to how to do graphics, to actually coming to London on a scholarship, to literature, websites, trips, food, and still acted like he owed me nothing when he would yell at me, treat me like nothing. He even made sure he got what he needed from me even if I wasn't well, if I was injured (I helped him make his MA film when I was shaking and ready to break.)

I am not even going to mention the most important part of what he did because that is too sickening and horrible for words. But after doing all these things, I broke up with him, and no matter how many 'sorry' phone calls I got, I did not take him back. And a few days later, when I was completely destroyed, K came into my life.  We started out as friends because both our love lives were complicated. It was only after I told my ex we were done for good and no matter how many times he asked if it was really over, I would say "Yes, it is really over," that I grew closer to K, a guy who actually cared about me, made me feel special and loved.

Not damaged, not broken, not crippled, but BEAUTIFUL and loved and strong.

I told S about him and said I genuinely liked K SO much and I wanted to be honest with S, hoping that at the very least after all that was said and done, we could part as friends.

But he is having none of that. Once again, he is accusing me of not being entirely honest with him in this relationship, that some things don't add up and that apparently 'I know in my heart what I have done.' Essentially, there is no way he was going to be mature about this and admit that he had messed up by treating me badly and therefore I left. He would rather turn me into the bitch who cheated because that absolves him of any guilt he feels about what he did to me. This man, who worked so hard to make me feel insecure and unhappy, probably cheated on me in my relationship with him multiple times (I was only too blind to see it), and whom I could never ever speak my mind to in fear of him lashing out and hurting my feelings, who worried about his battery dying than his girlfriend crying about his treatment of her, insisted that he knew how to love, that he genuinely cared about me and still does. He thanks me for NOTHING when in truth, he and I both know he has a LOT to be grateful for. But as ungrateful and emotionally abusive as he is, no God will ever punish him because for some reason, people like him know how to scheme and scam their ways via good people all through their lives.

I have never met someone so determined to make sure I was unhappy in my life considering he knew EVERY PART of what I was going through and had gone through. He cannot and will not appreciate a woman who cooked for him, cleaned for him, loved him, looked after him, read and edited his work, dealt with losing his children ALONE, bought him gifts, lent him money, forgave him time and time and TIME again for taking girls out on dates for eight hours, checked out other girls whilst I was still losing my baby, commented on how attractive my friends are, wanted to chill with an ex girlfriend he barely knew for ten days, never made an effort to come out and see me, made me make all the effort for him, spend all my money on seeing him and being around him, making me ill, this list can go on.

I was under the impression is someone does not hit you, or rape you, it is not abuse. But it IS! Just because every now and then he would read my work, say I was talented, and once in a while actually say something nice to me (essentially crumbs to the starving), I stuck around, because that is all I thought I was WORTH. He did the bare minimum to keep me around, and the bare minimum is not good enough when someone invests so much in you.

The worst part of it all is, most emotionally abusive men never ever ever admit it. Some of them are not even AWARE of it, they are so delusional (S is one of the delusional types). They insist they are good to others, themselves, everyone around them. They are sociopathic, and can feign charm, convincing even their parents and best friends what good people they are. But they are NOT good people and they will never admit, even to themselves that they are evil, and the scum of the earth.

I wish I could punish S for what he has done to me, but I couldn't do that to someone I have once loved. I will say this though. I wasted a year and a half on a man who treated me like I was toilet paper. And the worst part about it all is: I let him treat me badly because I didn't think I deserved or could do any better.

To all the girls and boys out there in such terribly emotionally abusive relationships, there is hope. Whatever you do, do not make the mistakes I did. Do not change for anyone, do not let someone make you feel useless, DO NOT think you are worthless because someone else has made you feel that way. TAKE RESPONSIBILITY and know that you messed up by LETTING someone treat you that way as well, and learn from this (even if you have been abused that does not excuse you for letting someone do it again to you and this I say from having experienced sexual and physical abuse.). LEARN that just because you think that someone has a hold on you, YOU need to break past that and grab a hold of your life for yourself.

There are people who genuinely care about you. I found one when I felt like no one could ever love me.

Keep the faith.

I promise it will be worth it.

I am not this perfect angel nor am I of Demons born,
Half of both i stand to oath, truth and loyalty is sworn.
I cannot say I'll guide you through this,
I cannot say we shall not fall.
All I am is just a Man, I pray that you will understand.

But with all that flows within my veins and with all within myself i give
To fight now and forever more for a love in which we both can live..

All seems strange yet all is true...Take my hand and say I do too..

This beautiful poem was not written by me, but by the one who holds my heart. Beautiful, marvellous, wonderful Knight in shining armour, who came knocking at my door one fine morning (literally!) when I least expected it (needless to say, I looked terrible the first time he met me and he STILL liked me. If that isn't love, I don't know what is!)

K, you are an angel. A perfect angel and a perfect man in my eyes.

This poem is his way of saying hi. So say hi back everyone!!

So my book is out finally!! YAYAYAYAY!!

David (!Other5317) wrote the most epic foreword for it as well!

From the back of the book:

Nikita Gill offers thirty three stories in the form of almost poems, almost fairy tales, and some very real people behind them. Love, hate, passion...forget all you have ever known or learned. For this is not about the art of living. This is about the techniques of survival. (I hope you're proud, Mr. Darwin.)

And it's available right here: [link]

I am so EXCITED!!!

Store

note me


All right guys! I promised a photography feature last week, but I got a bit delayed. Here it is!

:thumb268500631::thumb314929395::thumb313056216::thumb312260498::thumb314974435::thumb315733176:



Also, countdown to my EBOOK!! Yay! Facebook page. -> [link]


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Have you met these incredible, awesome, talented people?

I cannot believe I actually managed to write enough stories to fill up a book, but there you go! I am planning to launch my prosetry ebook over the next week or so! I am so excited about this because this would be the first step to being an author! I have been published in literary journals a couple of times, but this is a whole new ball game, which is nice because I call the shots thanks to the magic of self publishing!

The book itself is called Your Body is an Ocean and has a whole bunch of flashfiction type stories!

I'd love for you guys to see it because it is all your support that has even persuaded me to write the thing in the first place! Please do keep an eye on my facebook page so I can tell you all where it will be available for free download! [link]

Also, photography feature tomorrow!!






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Have you met these incredible, awesome, talented people?

Hello everyone!

I have been busy lately with my MA and frustrated because I want to do more work than I have time for. But I don't want to neglect my friends out here so I want to do a bi-monthly feature. Every two weeks photography, the next two weeks literature. Also, I randomly picked some friends to give premium memberships to, I would have like to have given out more, but I don't have too much money in my account right now. I would, however, like to do this once every three months for my watchers at random just to show you guys how much I adore you.

This month, those people were and . Thanks for being there for me you guys!

I also gave a premium membership to

Now, I do not know Chen. I follow his poetry once in a while because I believe he is very talented. But I am not someone who agrees with his ways sometimes, albeit silently. However, what I do have is a policy of trying to understand someone and seeing the good that they are trying to do, especially if I feel like I may be judging them too harshly. Its an old belief my mother put in me that when you believe the worst about someone else, take a look at yourself and understand that you are no one to give judgement. And I realised, whilst meditating on this that I do not do enough for this community that has given me so much, the people here, the staffers. Hence, the premium giveaway to the person who made me realise that, and my efforts that start from today. I would like to help everyone here who has given me kindness. I do think that in his own way, Chen is trying to improve the literature community and in that effort, as a fellow writer, I salute him. I do understand what he is doing what he is doing. I believe, however, that I can only help by helping other artists gain exposure, such as new writers and photographers, by recommending their work and featuring it and giving out premium memberships when I can. I am not someone who can enjoy confrontation and therefore will watch from the sidelines, and hope for the very best outcome for everyone in this situation.

The moral of the story is, never judge a book by its cover. So, do something nice for someone you don't necessarily agree with today. They may just pleasantly surprise you, when you learn more about them. And you may learn something about yourself in the process as well




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Have you met these incredible, awesome, talented people?

Once upon a time, there was a girl who liked to tell stories. She weaved tales because that was her strength, her way of moving on from what had been, and for what was to come.

Or so she thought.

Because you see, her words were stolen from her. They were taken and claimed by another. She was lost without them and did not know what to do.

And then she was granted an army of angels.

These angels, they stood by her, bloodied their swords and fought when she could not.

And justice prevailed.

I want to thank you, thank all my honourable, kind, wonderful, supportive friends here for helping me, for helping me stand when I could not. Without your words, your guidance, your strength, he would not have taken those words down at all. I even got a written apology from him, which I did not even expect, because he had been so unresponsive earlier. I want to thank all of you guys, from the very very bottom of my heart and soul. You are an army of angels sent from the kindest places, with the best of hearts. Bless you. Bless all of you.



If I have missed out any name, please please do tell me. I would hate to have missed the opportunity to thank you and show my gratitude.

EDIT: Thanks for letting me know!

I don't know what to say. I am so upset. There is this guy, who with just a few alterations, has taken claim for my work and claimed it is his own. I am actually speechless...he removed one piece he outright stole, but he has still got SO much of my stuff up there. And refused to take it down.

There are other deviantartists he has stolen from as well. If anyone recognises their pieces, please alert them, as I have only managed to alert two of three people.

I am only putting this up because I plan to take action but if any of you recognise the work put up on his website...please please alert the artist!

[link] -> [link]

[link] ->
[link]

There are at least three more, but he keeps deleting my comments off his page and refuses to take it down. ALL my work is copyright and under creative commons, but he keeps on stealing!

[link] -> his facebook page where he keeps deleting my comments, he is not even responding to messages. This is his personal facebook page: [link]

I tried asking him nicely, this is what I wrote to him:

Look, I have been through a lot in my life. You claim to be a feministic man, someone who loves and respects women. I am asking you respect the only thing I have that gives me strength. My words. I am asking you to remove the stolen words, or I'm going to have to take legal action. Please. Either credit me with the original story, or remove my story completely. [link] This story in particular is a very important one to me when I wrote it. My boyfriend and I spoke in my car whilst driving to an animal shelter. This story embodies him. HE is a hermit, he is kind and his eyes welled up when we found a half injured piedog sitting inside a dirty old box, his back legs completely chewed off. Please don't do this to me. Just take them down. Please?  

He didn't even bother to respond. Now, I'm really upset. I bleed my words from my heart and my soul. Its the only thing that makes me feel like my bones are not breaking, that I am worth something.

I love sharing my words, but not like this...never like this.

I want to thank [link] for bringing this person to my attention. Check out Comedawn's gorgeous artwork!

Also, check out the awesome, AMAZING [link]. Archonzero is the awesome guy who extended my premium membership by a month. Thank you, my darling.

Nobody ever said that life was going to be easy. But damn it, that doesn't mean you shouldn't make the most out of it. I'm looking for beauty and I find it everywhere. But most of all, I find beauty in some of my favourite people's words. Here is a celebration of my friends, their work and their kindness.


How Much Greener Is the Other Side?Many people feel like it is better to live in the past
When the supposed good times were there to welcome them

But some people's memories are only of darkness
And sorrow that they fear will never go away
Thoughts of blood

So is it really better to wander in memories?
It is only true for some...

That to find happiness in old moments may be
The only way to find peace, but...

Others are not so sure, and
They move forward, wishing their reminiscing friends were with them

For they believe that what's done is done
And there is no use trying to turn back time,

When there are still more memories to be made in the present, to be kept for    The Hopeless JourneyThis journey is a hopeless one.
A path with no glorious ending.
Earth glitters in the harsh sun.

The ocean of sand is a sea of loneliness.
Only yourself on the harsh terrain.
Dunes rise before you only to be easily passed.

Monotonous, endless, an expanse of land.
For this quest your duty was abandoned.
Disapproving sunlight beats down.

Grains of sand fall through the hourglass.
Dry time ticks by; the end is reached.
Reached, but your goal is not.

"What is this?" you ask in terror.
"The ocean" inviting waves call back.
The surf is salty and bitter as your defeat.

The success for which you yearned was a mirage.
Across the desert   ElegantI'm not the most elegant of people.

I slouch when I sit. I eat like a pig. My feet twist oddly when I walk, making me nearly twist my ankle more than once. I'm horribly lazy. I have to be told to pick up my room. My hair is a mess, and if I didn't think my family would be appalled, I'd cut it all off just so that I wouldn't have to deal with it.

My teeth were crooked. My mom spent thousands to get them straightened, but I hate my retainers because they make my mouth hurt in the morning and they still make me lisp even after five years. I hate my glasses. I asked my mom if I could get contacts, but when she agreed I realized too late that my  :thumb259828415:  :thumb167614970:   RunningTo run away
A heartfelt desire
Chase the edge of day
Race that ball of fire

...Run to a place for flying
Where your chains cant reach me
Spread my burning wings
And learn what it means to be free...   Dear RainThese drops from heaven
Falling on me and my brethren
Healing me, calming my mourning cry
These drops from heaven, falling from the abode high

Oh rain falling, please stay
Be my company at least for today
Shine upon me I pray
Leave not this romantist, filled with dismay

Revision 19 March 2013: This is trying to take the same theme of this poem and writing it from a different perspective.

tears of heaven rain on this domain
as my brethren and I am calmed
whilst scars and wounds of a past so profane
Is shed away by Nature's psalm

Lo! Dear Rain, bless your nobility
for your aid, when I needed thee
Subdue me in your sweet embrace
lest I forge   Not an Island nor a Storm...It wasn't an island; it had no water or palm trees, or rum storage holds. It wasn't a storm; there were no clouds or rain nor thunder. It wasn't a crowd of people you didn't know; there were no people, known or unknown. It wasn't an awkward conversation; there were no words, no motions nor sounds. But there was silence, an overcast sky and the feeling of being alone.

She stood on the edge. Watching. Waiting. Not daring to hope. It seemed the world was happy she was there. Just beyond the notice of the passers-by. Invisible unless you really looked. She wasn't really worth the effort, or so she had been told. Her eyes reflected theirs, a myri  :thumb278226215:   StandardsAccording to the world I'm not a girl. I don't fit the tendencies a girl should have. I've never heard of this rule book before, but I suppose a lot of people have. I mean, there must be certain standards a girl should have that I am expected to live up to.
  According to the world girls my age should wear their hair long, girls should gossip, girls should be neat and like shopping and giggling. Girls should talk about boys all the time, and what they did on the weekend. Looking pretty should always be a girls main concern, never mind things like sports or running around, that's what boys do.
  According to the world girls my age shouldn'   Walk With Me -Almost- FinalWalk with me

The boy stood in the middle of the empty, dusty road. The great skyscrapers that had once rent the sky were now the endless rubble that surrounded us. Road signs were now dented and torn apart. Empty shells of cars, the paint now eroded and covered in soot, windows gone, had once belonged to  people trying to escape, whose bodies now sat in the seats. Men, women, children, spending eternity shrieking.

He stared at me, his face dirty with the dust and soot that had fallen heavily mere days ago. There were tear tracks that had carved their way through the dirt, and he smiled at me.

"Walk with me?"

I blinked, trying to   UnbreakableAnyone ever told you they are unbreakable?
Well, they are.
Super glue is really strong.   Breathless"No."

She stood there, gazing at the love of her life. The man of her dreams. He was only 18.

~

With his shoulder-length brownish blonde hair, and bright blue eyes, Kyle Schroder looked at Rachelle, the love of his life. He didn't want to leave her, yet she was forcing him to make a choice.
"What do you mean no babe?" He asked, his heart slowly breaking, as he inched forward to hold her.

"I'm not going with you to U of I. My family is already dirt poor, and I'm not smart enough to get a scholorship." She replied coldly, letting her voice drop to a low volume, and her eyes softening, against her will.

"Please Rachelle...Don't make me lea   The Steampunk Radicals: PrologueThe year is 2072. The world is resting in near ruins, torn mercilessly apart by the prideful nature of human beings.
How, you may ask? What could possibly be so vast in ghastliness that it affects the entire world?
It started with the former United States— the proud eagle perched proudly, watching over all the rest of the world as it always had done.
It was the result of rivalry between the states; an accumulation of pent up emotions and tensions between them that eventually broke. After all, fervent forces will only grow in strength until they are one day released in an unconquerable riot.
It began in 2045, and has been this raging, inferno-like war for nearly thirty years now.
But perhaps you still are having trouble comprehending. You see; once upon another time the state of Washington was caught receiving secret shipments of Alaskan resources; and further investigations showed that an underground society had begun plotting an uprising… though the  :thumb288223519:   Children's GamesHide and Seek
Why do you burrow in places I can't fit?

Eye Spy
Why do you pick names of things I cannot see?

Peek-a-boo
Why don't you ever let me surprise you?

Tic Tic Toe
Why do you shy your hugs and kisses?

         For these are the silly games I play.
         Won't you play with me any more?

Miss Mary Mack
Why won't you hold me hand?

Tiggy
Why do you run so far away? (I can't reach you)

Imagine
Why can't you see yourself next to me?

                                             My tummy aches...     The MaskYou stare at the thing you hold in your hand. For once, you're expressionless. As of late, you've been bitter and angry at the world. You've blown up at your closest friends and everyone you come across.

It took you months to make this. Your sweat, blood, and yes, even your tears, were poured into this.

It's a mask. A perfect replica of your face. As soon as you put it on, it will become your face.

There's only one difference.

The mask is smiling.

You know you can't carry on with life if you were always so crabby. And you know you don't possess enough willpower to change yourself.

So you decided to hide.

You turn the mask so that it wi     shakespeare knew, shakespeare told
shakespeare wrote the best love poems
for women with gloves;
caressing their parched cheeks
and bleeding pink lips dry-

void of language and socially inept,
they are sex, sex, and money

thus revealed the intents of the world.


Each and every one of you is so talented. I spent a majority of today going through your galleries and smiling from ear to ear, or in tears, or finding my heart pounding in my chest. Thank you for sharing yourselves so selflessly with me.

Also, all the love in the world goes out to my friend Phil [link], who has recently told me that he lost his father. Your strength is an example to live by.