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I Am PerspectiveI am amazing. I can do amazing things. My art, my writing, my dreams...all of them are amazing. You helped me. You supported me. You told me how good at these things I am. I am amazing. I can do amazing things.
I am a loser. I can't do anything. Nothing I do comes out right. All of the things I try to do end in failure. You mocked me. You laughed at me. You told me I was a loser and I was terrible at everything I tried. I am a loser. I can't do anything.
I am strong. I can do what I put my mind to. I can stand alone when I need to. I can create on my own. I can draw and write. You encouraged me. Let me be individual. You told me how strong I was as a person. I am strong. I can do what I put my mind to.
I am weak. I cling to the strong. Everything I do, I do with the help of others. Whatever I create, all my dreams and all my hope, I have been given by someone else. You held me up. You kept me going. You told me I couldn't do anything without your help. I am weak. I cling to the strong.
Lioness(I'm sorry this is a bit disorganized, but I can't think of any other way of phrasing it.)
There was once a lionness who, seperated from her pride, chose to take in a calf. They were together always. The lioness wouldn't hunt because she didn't want to leave the calf. The calf couldn't nurse because the lioness was unable to support her and the lioness would not let the calf leave to find her mother. Some people thought it was a beautiful image. They saw this powerful creature, which would normally kill the calf, trying to care for her, and they believed it was love the lioness felt for the calf. Others, believed the lionness was a jailer, not permitting the calf to leave her because she didn't want to be alone.
I don't know why, but the moment I met her, I felt an instant desire to be her best friend. There was something about her, which just sucked me in. She never realized it herself. She didn't know, from my point of view, she was everything I wasn't: popular, with loads of people
The Best Thing I Was Ever ToldPeople are defensive. I would probably know best because I'm likely the most defensive (and emotional) person on the planet. This is why when you want to tell people how you feel about them you have to be careful. This is why you can't say how worried you are about your friend's weight, one way or the other. This is why you can't comment about your sister's depression.
Why? Why? Why?
Why can't I tell her how horrible she was when she hit me, when she beat me, when she hurt me? It's because people are defensive.
Why can't I tell my friend how much I'm worried all this dieting may actually be bad for her? It's because people are defensive.
Why can't I tell my sister how much I want her to come out in the sun and enjoy the day with me? It's because people are defensive.
I suffered from my own depression not long ago. In all honesty, I can't remember when it was. It seems longer ago than I know it is. Maybe this is why I can't recall when it happened.
Life fell into a blur of procrastinati
Valid Arguments? : Eating MeatI am on DeviantArt all of the time and I see some fairly "controversial" artwork and debates from time to time. I've made my comments on some of these things, not by getting into rage arguments with the artists or writers, but by writing up my own opinion and letting others chose for themselves what they wish to believe. They can comment if they like or they can read, scoff, and move on. Honestly, I don't really care which. For the most part, I try to avoid arguments since I don't like conflict and I'm a really nasty person when I get into a debate; however, I was a bit annoyed at a particular artwork, which I will not name, not because the artwork itself was offensive (in fact, it was quite good and sent a good, if daunting, message), but because of the comments listed beneath it.
Therefore, today I will talk about being a meat-eater.
I am a complete carnivore. I like to eat meat...love it, actually. Getting myself a vegetarian boyfriend didn't hinder this. I joke about 'converting' h
IronmanHear me read it
My friends used to call William "Ironman" because the first time we kissed he got a nosebleed and the taste of his blood haunted me for a long time after it. We'd only been twelve years old and apparently the anxiety spiked his blood pressure to the point of combustion... I remember that when we were forced to take sex ed a few years later we were divided into separate classes for boys and girls, in case a diagram of an ovary was too risqué and we became animalistic and started clawing at each other in our seats, but nonetheless when our teacher Ms Jacobs had explained to us what an erection was in my mind all I could picture was the blood rushing to his nose and then the slash of cranberry across my blouse.
With the idea planted in his mind it didn't take long for William's hands to start wandering, but the image persisted. Every time I thought about just letting it happen I wondered what would happen if he got too excite
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More