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The foolish finchA finch made a nest with a bluejay. The two birds foraged for food together. One day, food was very scarce. While he was foraging, finch found an acorn. He also came across a robin. Finch knew that the acorn was the only food left. Whomever he gave the acorn to, whether it was bluejay or robin, the other bird would surely go hungry. Finch flew home with the acorn and gave it to bluejay.
Throughout the night, robin sang mournfully. Finch stood on a branch near the nest and sang back, hoping to cheer her up. Meanwhile, bluejay was trying to crack open the acorn so that they could eat. She could not crack the shell on her own, and she needed finch’s help. But finch was too busy singing to the starving robin.
The hungry bluejay had no choice but to fly away from the nest and search for food on her own. Finch, now alone, realized his folly. He couldn’t open the acorn by himself either. And bluejay had flown away. Finch wept in the nest that night, knowing that he had hurt his be
Conflict"What is the best way to win a conflict?" young one asked.
Old one thought about this for a moment. "It depends on the type of conflict. If you are engaging in a conflict over land or gold, then polish your sword and shield. Test the weight of the weapons the night before and sleep soundly."
Young one nodded attentively. Old one continued. “However, in matters of ideals or beliefs, it is best to prepare one’s mind before a conflict.”
Young one looked troubled at this. “But I have seen people bring their weapons with them, even when engaging in conflicts over ideals or beliefs.”
Old one snorted derisively. “That is foolish. Plus it just makes you look like a huge asshole.” Old one frowned. “To bring weapons to a conflict involving ideals or beliefs only proves that you have no true faith in your own convictions. Indeed, that you are fearful of your opponent’s views, that they might topple your own.”
Young one pondered this for
Sweat"Don't sweat the small stuff," old one said.
Young one looked up, frowning. "Never?" young one asked.
Old one took a deep breath and gazed out the window. "It is never good to sweat the small stuff." Old one's brow crinkled. "It just makes everyone else anxious. No, it never does anyone any good to sweat the small stuff."
Young one considered this for a few moments, and nodded. Young one then looked to old one again. "What about the big stuff? Is it ok to sweat the big stuff?"
Old one nodded sagely. "Yes. It is acceptable to sweat the big stuff. But.." old one trailed off, furrowing his brow in careful consideration, "when you do, try to sweat.. tactfully."
Don't Fall In Love With A Writer Just because they will bruise your neck with pearls of metaphors; and splash palettes of colours onto your chest with reckless waves and boundless twilight. They will smear ink onto your lips as you kiss them because that is how they leave hickeys. They are wildest in their 2 a.m. diary, and liveliest in book racks of novels; they have butterflies in every heartbeat and they breathe living poems. They leave trails in libraries and coffee shops like Hansel leaves crumbs in forest and they have undying lovers because every love story is ever living in their abyssal oceans of analogies and similes. They know every cliché like the sunset knows the moon rise, and every wound in their heart like blood in their veins. They are terrifying because they weave you in splinters of fires rolling down their cheeks. They are weird because they don't smile much but sometimes you could catch their smiles in poems or tales. They are psychotic b
The gentleman with the paper napkin rose!Lonely and heart broken,
I was that night.
I walked out of my hotel room,
right into the bar and into it's magical atmosphere,
beautiful belly dancers,
I sat down and got me a drink,
wanting to drawn,
all of my feelings,
my love, my life.
wanting to be cold,
not wanting to feel anything,
betrayal is a painful
thing to remember!
So I wanted the ability to forget,
since forgiving was much too soon
for my broken heart.
So intense was this pain,
many years later
I still carry it's scars.
and without looking I was at the distance,
welcomed by someone's interest...
There he was looking at me,
and for the longest time
I could not look away, I got hypnotize
by his Indian eyes...
From a paper napkin he made me a flower,
I thought of this detail for hours.
He walked to me and reached for my hands,
placing the object of his creation between my fingers.
He must have made this flowers a thousand times,
because as he did,
he never stopped looking at my eye
... and nobody cares.Can you see these empty eyes, screaming for help? No you can't.
Oh come on, you're not sick! I can't see it! Your answer was. You're thinking of me as a malingerer, don't try to tell me otherwise. You think I'm one of the comfortably sick to get through life easy.
Have you ever asked yourself why you (still) live? What is worth for living? When all problems hail down on you at once and you threaten to suffocate, seeing all your plans and dreams destroyed, you won't consider giving up, don't you?
Come get your ass up, lazy f*ck and get a job again, I once heard you yelling at me. Afterwards I'm asking myself – do you, so called friend, even know me at all? Do you know that the pressure of my past has crushed me into an unstable pile of mood swings, suicide thoughts and psychosomatic sickness? Probably not, because if you'd know me you wouldn't hurt me with your words.
But there are loads of therapists out there, don't whine into my ears any longer, go get your hea
everything is temporaryi have never been one to yell, it hurts my throat, or maybe i just lack the passion to get that mad at something. you always did bring out things that i never knew were inside though. we had matching bloodshot eyes, and the same fuck the world attitude running through our veins as if the world owed us something. it didn't then. but it does now. my blood is thick and burning and i want to try and flood it into yours to get the colour back into your cheeks that i just watched drain. i kicked the wall, and opened the window and screamed at the sky-scrappers and i don't know how the world can just keep fucking turning without so much a skipped rotation or a fucking stutter.
you turned small, minor things into giant fucking events that made my chest even tighter. a tickle in my throat, a spreading wildfire on the nape of my neck, a distinct lack of words or feelings to anything more than a lingering heaviness. i lost count of how many times i contemplated stepping in front of that car, bus,
My alter-egosYou see, I have these beings in my head I call alter-egos. They're parts of me that appear whenever I need them. They represent me, they come from the deepest side of my soul. It might seem crazy, but that's the best way I can describe them. They're very different from my other OCs (Vince, Renka, Alice, ete); they're very special to me. Sorry, I'm not good at explaining things myself...
Keiko: can I? Can I explain it? Pleeeeaseee?
Okay, go ahead.
Keiko: okay, we are special beings that live inside Sandra's mind. We were formed of her subconscious, so that makes us different of her other OCs she created herself. We're here to protect her, to make her feel better when she has her episodes of depression. Recently, she decided to make us public because we told her it was a good idea.
Now we will show a list of all the alter-egos Sandra has:
-Abyss (Gloomy Apocalypse): Demon
-Adelaida (No pony alias yet)
-Angel (Pulsar Majoris): Male version of Sandra
-Astrid (Star Lollipop): Birdwing
fellow adventurers and others who want to donti know its been a long time sense she commited suicide but i just recently found out about Amanda Todd the poor girl she just couldnt handle it anymore i wanted to say that it gets better i should know and today im gonna tell you my story
it was an ordanary day in the dew household yes dew as in mountain dew anyway i was deppresed tho that wasnt unusual for me knowing my past it was diffrent this time it was like my deppression was worse then ever i went into my brothers old room to look at pictures because hes at collage so i was missing him then i noticed his clouset was open now ya see he had a real sword in that clouset and i saw it i thought to myself i-its to much i cant handle it anymore i picked the sword up and almost drew it getting ready to drive it right through my 9 year old chest but then i thought to myself why am i doing this all its gonna do is make my family missrable and i dont
4 Dead ChordsI’m here, with the darkness embracing me, trying to sleep. My eyes, full of tears, want to sleep, listening to those things that makes me feel bad in the middle of the night, listening to my thoughts written by other mind, but are mine. I know the reason of the sad midnight, when the sky has closed the window and no one can see the spirits, walking lonely roads.
Maybe I took another wrong way, or the wrong way took me, with a beautiful smile and deep black eyes, asking me if I was truly happy all this time without Starlight; I wasn’t, those days were wasted moments in my life. There’s nothing to see inside a womb, where you are isolated and peaceful with yourself, thinking about the day you had.
I’m drowning in memories, and cry, the droplets that my lung has.
Come With Me~I snuck out somewhere last night. I do every night. I go to a wonderful place, somewhere no one knows.
You should come with~
I love it there. It has it's ups and downs- but it really is a nice place.
Better than you can image~
It changes almost every night. It can be really bright and fun, then the next night I have to run for my life.
Are you on your way?~
I can be pleasured- or in pain. I can be happy- or depressed. I can fear- or be feared. I can be trying to save everyone from a burning house- or be starting the fire.
It might hurt- and I can't say it'll get better~
It could be a really romantic night- or I could be getting ready for murder.
So lets go get ready~
Do you want to know where this place is?
You might regret it- but I know we'll have fun~
Are you sure you really want to know?
You can't run now~
I snuck out somewhere last night. I do every night.
You should come with~
You should come with me to Dream
gravityIt's not the first blow that hurts the most
It's the sharp pain that follows when your
ass hits the ground after falling and you
bite down helplessly on your tongue
As the momentum comes to a stop,
the spinning sensation reminds
you that the weight of your
weak body is a slave to
But the world will work, play,
sleep, and wake up again, so
you've got to stop laying there.
Do something with the pain.
Ignore it. Sell it. Give it away.
But get up.
But get up.
Join the rest of them again.
They'll be insulted if you're late.
For God's sake, don't be late.
Keep in Touch!