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Literature
Memories
Memories can be good, can be bad.
Memories can be joyful, sorrowful, significant, boring.
They can define someone, they can make them smile.
Memories can bring tears, or simply bring back pains.
Memories can be fuzzy, barely remembered at all, or memories can be sharp, defined and full.
Is that all I am though?
Is that why I live?
To become a happy memory to you, because you don't want the pain?
When you leave me behind, what will I be then, if not but a memory?
A memory can be important, but why do I stay for you, if you just plan to leave?
Why should I endure this pain, if only for you?
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Mature content
The Good Die Young, Chapter Three :iconmerin593:Merin593 0 0
Literature
In my Dreams...
In my dreams, I am always falling. I fall down, as if from a high height, a bridge, a building, a plane, I don't know, but I know I am falling. Below me the misty depths. Or is it the misty death? I don't intend to survive the landing, that I know. I tumble, the world spins around me, a cold, desolate world, filled with tall dark shapes, concealed by a dense fog. There is no sound, no wind rushing by my ears as I fall, no water rushing below me, but sometimes I still feel it is there.
I may not recall where I fell from, but I always know why I fell. I fell because I failed. For once in my life, I actually tried, and for once in my life, I completely failed. After this, what else is there? I've heard that every mistake you make is a lesson to be learned, but what is the message here? To not try? To give up? Isn't that what I did, as I fell from the ledge, into the desolate landscape I see now?
There is nothing around me to catch my fall, just the shadows, shifting and sliding, as if moc
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Literature
The Good Die Young, Chapter Two
Diane stared at the dark courtroom like cavern she was in. It was dark in here, so dark she could barely see her own hand. Orangeish red light flowed from behind a giant podium, that stretched in a large semi-circle around her. Silhouettes of humanoid figures surrounded her, the light casting them in fearsome shapes. "You have abused your power, youngling." A great voice boomed. The room seemed to be shaped that the sound would come from everywhere at once, making it impossible to know which of the dozen or so figures actually spoke.
"Young Reapers are expected to be impartial, to follow their instructions." Another voice sounded. This one, while still thunderous, sounded female. She sounded more amused than the first one, who had sounded just angry. Diane spent the time counting the number of figures. She knew what she was guilty of, and they were just being dramatic with all the extra talking. Then again, in a council such as this, it must be rather boring, so theatrics may be the on
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Literature
The Good Die Young, Chapter One
Diane Mallory Mortred stood on the porch of the large mansion. Inside, a wealthy old man sat in his study, reading a particularly boring novel that he had read and reread many times. Diane really didn't know why he was still reading it, again at least. She didn't care. She had a job to do, and she was more than pleased to do it. Overhead, a crow was heard, cawing loudly. There were always crows. They never came down, never went away. They just circled.
Diane opened the door, her left hand resting on the hilt of a sword. Rather old fashioned, but she liked the feel of it more than a gun. It was more personal, more satisfyingly gruesome. The hilt of her sword was an intricate skull, followed by an ebony handle, suitable for a two handed, or one handed grip, depending upon what suited her needs. The blade itself was long, gilded with silver, but the edge itself was simple steel. Runes decorated the blade, and if one was especially knowledgeable about symbols from a variety of ancient cult
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Literature
Taste the Rainbow
Lillian sat on the stool in her bathroom stall. Splayed in front of her lay the open bottles of half a dozen prescription bottles. One to help her with her sleep issues, another to help with depression, another for schizophrenia, or whatever that psychiatrist called it. It wasn't something she knew about, but sounded like schizophrenia. Pills lay scattered over the tile floor, a myriad of purples, reds, and whites. Big pills, small tablets to be chewed, all lay amongst one another in an almost pretty pattern.
Lillian recalled the various doctors and psychologists telling her what to take when, what not to take with what, and what to take to treat whatever. A red pill for sleeplessness, a purple one for hallucinations, a white one for depression. Don't mix red and yellow, that causes strokes, and never mix white and purple, that causes liver failure. Don't drink alcohol while using green pills. Lillian had never touched alcohol in her life, and was hardly old enough to touch it legally,
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Literature
Being on Top
He was at the top. He was one of the greatest men alive, said some people. He had been married, with two children and a third on the way. He had been completely mentally sound, said his psychiatrist. He had money, power, everything a man could want. He was said to be handsome, kind, a truly good person.
The world had been so confused when the headlines said he committed suicide the night before. Foul play had long been ruled out, his house had security beyond most people's imagination, and his family was off on vacation. He was a well loved man, a man of stature, importance, and he was gone. The world seemed to sit still in shock.
Everyone asked one question. "Why?" He had everything, he wanted for nothing he could not obtain. Only one explanation seemed reasonable to the general public, a short statement from his psychiatrist:
The man was scared, scared of failure. He knew the top of the world, lived there, saw it daily. And he was scared to fall. It seems he wanted to die when he was
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Mature content
Fire in the Sky :iconmerin593:Merin593 0 0
Literature
Anger
I feel it. A consuming fire, something I cannot control, cannot stop. It rages, burning sanity, rationality, and common sense, leaving the charred and broken remnants behind. It writhes and turns inside of me, begging for release. I sit still, huddled in the corner. Every word I say carries venom, the meaning of every sentence I speak is shifted, and there is nothing to do about it.
It burns me. From the inside out, I feel the influence of it corrupting me, changing who I am, what I think. And I can do nothing. I pound out words, trying to give it a release, but despite every word typed into the laptop in front of me, I only feel it growing stronger. I feel weak. I should be able to stop this, to bring this under control, but no matter what I do, I am helpless to it.
It eats away at me. My self-control, slowly eroded as if by a powerful and malevolent acid, slowly burning the keen edge off the control I hold so dear. It takes my mind, my sanity, I feel it taking away what makes me
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RP character, Analin :iconmerin593:Merin593 1 15
Literature
Dreame, Chapter Four
                              Dreame, Chapter Four, Part One
Malik was rather confused, with his dreams, his father, and ultimately, his life. Was he crazy, some sort of schizophrenic with odd dreams? They seemed so real, but Malik was sure that was something a crazy person would think. Why had his father apologized? Was there some sort of weird genetic shit that messed up his head? If so, that was hardly his fault, so why would he be sorry? As he mentioned, Malik was completely confused.
Nonetheless, he prepared for school. Random bouts of craziness, while a perfectly good reason to miss school, was not something Malik was prepared to tell the school, which he would have to do if he gave that particular excuse.
Malik hopped into and out of the shower swiftly, not doing much but washing, not even pausing to think. After that, he threw on
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Literature
Blame and Regret
The boy stood, staring over the edge, the distant surface below. It was dark, too dark to even see the ground, so far below. His feet dangled, swinging in the gentle breeze that blew around the boy. Down was death to the boy, but up was something that seemed infinitely worse, life itself.
Behind him slept bullies, teachers, even brothers, all of whom had collectively pushed him to this ledge. But no matter how hard they pushed, he had to finish it, he had to be the one to get himself of that last, final ledge. Nothing they did would get him off without him desiring it, allowing it, but at this moment, it seemed the boy would push himself off that last inch, before plummeting down, and away. He would go away...
The boy sighed. He placed his hands on the cold concrete, positioning them to give a quick, sharp shove, fast enough that regret would be unable to stop him, and just enough to give him the push he needed to get off the building and into the air. Just enough to get him away from
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Literature
Dreame, Chapter Three
Dreame, Chapter 3
Dreame, Chapter Three, Part One
Malik awoke in the same eerily familiar, yet completely alien circumstances he feared he would when he went to sleep. This time, he stood in a grand room, draped in rather beautiful scarlet and violet silks and cloth. Obviously a grand bedroom, although obvious not his own. The room was flawless, with nothing to mar the beauty of the room. Nothing like Malik’s own ratty, dirty room.
“I sense your presence again, human. What tricks are you using? Tell me, before I must resort to using some tricks of my own. Nobody disturbs Aledor the Empowered with impunity!” Malik felt and heard the body he was in say. As there was nobody else in the room, Malik knew that this Aledor, the man with the cheetah body, addressed him, and nobody else. However, Malik had no idea how he would respond to this, as he had no control, and could not speak. And he definitely didn’t want to learn what tricks this man, the one with magic, could
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Literature
Dreame, Chapter Two
Dreame, Chapter Two, Part 1
After school, Malik was wandering home, his eyes set on his house. Fairie was following him, as Dane was off doing "homework." Dane never did homework, but he always loved privacy. Why he desired that privacy was a bit of a joke among the group. Nonetheless, Fairie and Malik walked into Malik's likely deserted house. His parents were likely working, his sibling, a sister named Jenni, would be at work, as she was a little over a year older than Malik was, and worked at the local bakery as a cashier.
As they suspected, the house was empty. It was a mess, but like Dane, they liked to be in small groups, with less people, so they went here because nobody else would be here. Fairie sat on the couch, which was almost brown by now, despite the original color being something more akin to red, and Malik fetched a pair of soda cans from the refrigerator. As he returned, he picked up a large, pre-opened bag of chips, and wandered out to where Fairie would be sitting.
M
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Literature
Dreame, Chapter One
Dreame, Chapter One, Part 1
Malik Damon stood at the edge of the window, staring out
over the courtyard below. Below, dozens of men fought, the clash of
iron and steel near deafening. Malik both knew what was happening,
and didn’t. Part of him stared with the fascination of a boy
watching the next installation of his favorite action series, while
part stared with the horror of a man watching men die by the dozen.
It seemed surreal, as if not quite reality.
He felt his tail brush against his leg. It was an odd
sensation to have a tail. Malik again fought the confused state he
was in, part of him seemed to know that he did not have a tail, that
he was human. But another part stated otherwise, that his tail was
part of him, something he was born with. Something that made him
different, separate, from the humans that fought below. Better than
them.
Malik knew he should be doing something. He looked down.
Where he expected a human, dressed in black and dark purple, he saw
an en
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Random Writing 1 :iconmerin593:Merin593 0 0

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Activity


So, those of you I speak to often will know that I am fairly (very) discontent with my name. According to each person who I have actually asked, it doesn't fit me well. So as soon as I can, I plan on changing it.

Sadly for me, the name I have has some rather significant meaning within my family, which means that attempting to change it while I live here will go poorly at best. So, for now, I am just going to try to get my friends to try and call me by other names for a while, while my family is away, to see if I can find one that "fits" more than the one I have.

Being indecisive as I am, I haven't decided 100% on a single name yet, so for now, I am just going to go through a list I have made (otherwise, I would forget some...) until I find one I definitely like, and fits me more than my current one. For now, the name I have chosen is "Zoe." Nicknames I actually like for that would be "Zo," (Personal favorite), and "Z," pronounced "Ze." So until further notice, it would make me rather happy to be addressed by that name if possible. Thank you!

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Trip Ogden
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:iconravelin21:
Ravelin21 Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2012  Student Traditional Artist
Hi?
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:iconmerin593:
Merin593 Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2012
Why are you posting on my DA account?
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:iconravelin21:
Ravelin21 Featured By Owner Jul 25, 2012  Student Traditional Artist
Probably not. But it's there XD

I saw a wrong quote, couldn't help myself.
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:iconmerin593:
Merin593 Featured By Owner Jul 25, 2012
She won't see it though...
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:iconravelin21:
Ravelin21 Featured By Owner Jul 25, 2012  Student Traditional Artist
*Likely instead of probably
Nice to know someone else listens to them.

-Shadyrya
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:iconravelin21:
Ravelin21 Featured By Owner Jul 25, 2012  Student Traditional Artist
@AmongTheSatanic

I know that someday you'll be sleeping, darling, probably DREAMING off the pain- La Dispute

-Shadyrya
Also known as Demetrov
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:iconmerin593:
Merin593 Featured By Owner Jul 25, 2012
Does this go on my profile?
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:iconsharpieinkedcupcakes:
SharpieInkedCupcakes Featured By Owner Feb 19, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Hey Metti
~Harakut
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:iconmerin593:
Merin593 Featured By Owner Feb 20, 2012
Hi there!
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:iconamongthesatanic:
AmongTheSatanic Featured By Owner Feb 12, 2012  Hobbyist Artist
Rawr.
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