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People, Paper, Art IIPeople are so interesting. From the moment they are conceived, they are beautiful blank pieces of paper already being written on. When they are born, they are rushed with drawings, writings, words, languages, feelings and various sensations.Eventually, they begin to think for themselves. They begin to notice their environment and what it is they are seeing. They begin to comprehend their immediate world. They develop friends and enemies that they allow to write on them more so than other things like plants and flowers and people they will not remember.Eventually the initial scribbling, drawings, colors, writings, languages and doodles begin to form strange pictures of more and more intricate things, feelings, ideas, and opinions and ultimately collect to forge the personality.In time, they work, exhaust, sleep, and see their worlds in new light in the forms of dreams and nightmares where they wake up and ask themselves nearly unanswerable questions.For some reason, they question wh
I'm Coming BackEverything seems so remarkably discouraging lately. If something doesn't go right, I stop doing it for a while. I might even just drop it and walk away from it altogether.If I don't get a line right, I stop drawing. If I don't get the right color, I stop coloring. If I don't find the right words, I stop writing. If I keep dying, I stop playing games.Before, I didn't get discouraged. I didn't get that right line or color, I would just keep trying and trying and taking it in stride. If I died over and over I would keep playing. But lately, almost suddenly, I feel discouraged from doing anything.I can't get fuel, so I don't think about leaving the house. I can't talk to my friend, so I wonder if its worth my time of logging on and checking for messages all the time. I can't find the right music and so I hardly think about listening.What happened? Did I become distressed? Or am I just bored? Maybe I am just lacking in motivation anymore.Why was I so determined before? What did I try s
HeartThe sound is remarkable. The rhythm is universal. Everything about it is awesome. Tireless and timeless, it works day in, day out, never stopping never resting.It slows down and speeds up. It's movement nothing short of art. It seems so simple and yet remains so powerful. The repetitive contractions and relaxations all happening at the same time; it moves you, drives you, can give you purpose.You can feel it, hear it, and make it speed up or slow down.I want to be that. I want to be tireless and hardworking. I want to move something nothing else can. In fact, I want to be depended on like that. Where everything relies on me, where I control how fast something can move.But, there is something else remarkable about it. It's so powerful, but at the same time, it can break with words or thoughts. It speeds up at touch, slows down during sleep. It appears in dreams, literature, and pictures. It may be unseen most of the time, but for whatever reason, everyone is concerned about it in on
A Fishing Story.Argh, 'twas an arduous task.So there I was standing eye to eye with Fate itself.I could feel it's cold stare from one eye piercing through my soul and a warm caress from the other eye judging me and me resolve.There were no noises, there were no smellsIt looked at me and all that I was worth.Argh, aye it was an experience to behold, matey, but I stared attempting to comprehend with all me strength.What was it going to do?Argh... I stared it down and it stared me downI never blank, that's for sure, matey, but neither did Fate.Aye... it turned away with nothing more than a long lasting side glance until it's eye werelong out of view.Argh, but I knew, Aye, I knew good 'n well not to blink yet, matey, I kept staring long into the back of its head knowing it was still staring me down.Aye...Just before it disappeared out of sight, I would behold a sight I thought never to see in all me years...It turned around slowly, starting with that side-long glance, staring me dead in the