(no subject)
im thinking of making a new LJ account
and start writing a story in it
its like a mixture of love/fantasy/religion
if anyone interesting in becoming readers
leave comments
heres a sample (probably the beginning of the story)
First, all i see is a tiny thin white line on my skin. Then, in a matter of a few seconds, it turns florid pink, then crimson red as tiny droplets of blood starts to seep out. I feel the dull throbbing pain surging up my nerves and hitting my brain, driving out all the needless teenage emotional bullshit. I put the knife away, deciding it was enough for the night.
Then the phone rings suddenly, making me flinch and bringing me out of my little thoughtful coma. It must be Diana, I think to myself. I guess I could call her my girlfriend. I don't really know what we are. I would like to think we're a couple. My relationships are always so unclear, always floating somewhere in limbo. It gives me enough freedom to choose whether I'm single or taken whenever I want, but not enough freedom to really do whatever I like, which means it gives me enough security to know that someone loves me that way, but not enough security to know that I really belong with someone. If I have feelings for her, and she has hers for me, what's the problem? I don't exactly know. She has too many feelings for me...I suppose I should say. I always feel like shes above there somewhere, looking down and knowing too much. I feel like she's playing around with me...even if with such passion that it costs her all her heart. Me? I'm just clinging on because I'm lonely, and I'm afraid to lose such a love....or the idea of love. From the way I'm talking so far, one would think that I am some kind of social reject with no friend always being depressed cuz I'm alone. This actually isnt the case. I have a decent number of friends and am usually never short of social activities to do. But I'm one of those that are alone in the middle of a crowd. I'm not exactly all that helpless and hopeless depressed maniac I know I portray myself to be. One would ask me what she would do if she knew about my cutting. I would answer that she already knows. She can't really say anything when shes got the cut on her left wrist that probably bled more than all of mine combined. She makes one big deep cut over and over, where as in I make dozen tiny cuts. I've tried to stop her before, but how convincing am I when she knows I do it too, eh?
I pick up the phone, and it's her alright. Something is not right though. Her voice has tears in it, I can sense it from just the first word 'hello?'. She doesnt even give me time to ask, she just demands that I come right now and pick her up. She says to just get her the fuck out of her house.
On my way out of my room, after 10 or so minutes it takes me to get ready, I happen to glance at the small, cheap, uneven-armed cross hanging on my wall. I smile a smile that not even I myself understand. I don't really know why I have the cross up there. I'm an agnostic, and I think that even if there is a God, He must not really care about His creations. I know it was probably some kind of act out of the pressure I get from living in such a small, closed-off, and quite religious town. But, I just don't really know. I mean, I've been searching for the truth for so long, and all I ended up with is frustration and more questions. But hey, I'm thinking too much today. I break off from my trance staring at the cross and leave my room.
please give feedback
and start writing a story in it
its like a mixture of love/fantasy/religion
if anyone interesting in becoming readers
leave comments
heres a sample (probably the beginning of the story)
First, all i see is a tiny thin white line on my skin. Then, in a matter of a few seconds, it turns florid pink, then crimson red as tiny droplets of blood starts to seep out. I feel the dull throbbing pain surging up my nerves and hitting my brain, driving out all the needless teenage emotional bullshit. I put the knife away, deciding it was enough for the night.
Then the phone rings suddenly, making me flinch and bringing me out of my little thoughtful coma. It must be Diana, I think to myself. I guess I could call her my girlfriend. I don't really know what we are. I would like to think we're a couple. My relationships are always so unclear, always floating somewhere in limbo. It gives me enough freedom to choose whether I'm single or taken whenever I want, but not enough freedom to really do whatever I like, which means it gives me enough security to know that someone loves me that way, but not enough security to know that I really belong with someone. If I have feelings for her, and she has hers for me, what's the problem? I don't exactly know. She has too many feelings for me...I suppose I should say. I always feel like shes above there somewhere, looking down and knowing too much. I feel like she's playing around with me...even if with such passion that it costs her all her heart. Me? I'm just clinging on because I'm lonely, and I'm afraid to lose such a love....or the idea of love. From the way I'm talking so far, one would think that I am some kind of social reject with no friend always being depressed cuz I'm alone. This actually isnt the case. I have a decent number of friends and am usually never short of social activities to do. But I'm one of those that are alone in the middle of a crowd. I'm not exactly all that helpless and hopeless depressed maniac I know I portray myself to be. One would ask me what she would do if she knew about my cutting. I would answer that she already knows. She can't really say anything when shes got the cut on her left wrist that probably bled more than all of mine combined. She makes one big deep cut over and over, where as in I make dozen tiny cuts. I've tried to stop her before, but how convincing am I when she knows I do it too, eh?
I pick up the phone, and it's her alright. Something is not right though. Her voice has tears in it, I can sense it from just the first word 'hello?'. She doesnt even give me time to ask, she just demands that I come right now and pick her up. She says to just get her the fuck out of her house.
On my way out of my room, after 10 or so minutes it takes me to get ready, I happen to glance at the small, cheap, uneven-armed cross hanging on my wall. I smile a smile that not even I myself understand. I don't really know why I have the cross up there. I'm an agnostic, and I think that even if there is a God, He must not really care about His creations. I know it was probably some kind of act out of the pressure I get from living in such a small, closed-off, and quite religious town. But, I just don't really know. I mean, I've been searching for the truth for so long, and all I ended up with is frustration and more questions. But hey, I'm thinking too much today. I break off from my trance staring at the cross and leave my room.
please give feedback