Author Topic: PETRICHOR cafe 2.0  (Read 844 times)

Offline SULTAN

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Re: PETRICHOR cafe 2.0
« Reply #15 on: July 16, 2018, 11:55:30 AM »
paddy i love you sooo much hhhkskkd jsjd )):
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Offline crows

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Re: PETRICHOR cafe 2.0
« Reply #16 on: July 16, 2018, 12:39:45 PM »
this is so beautiful ur writing always makes me feel so fuzzy inside
We wuv u sully
pack your bags percy, you're always to blame! info

Offline paddy

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Re: PETRICHOR cafe 2.0
« Reply #17 on: July 16, 2018, 12:59:52 PM »
this is so beautiful ur writing always makes me feel so fuzzy inside
We wuv u sully
sometimes i feel cold, even paralyzed
my interior world needs to sanitize

Offline Legends

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Re: PETRICHOR cafe 2.0
« Reply #18 on: July 16, 2018, 04:08:48 PM »
this is so beautiful ur writing always makes me feel so fuzzy inside
etherial, almost ghostly info

Offline SULTAN

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Re: PETRICHOR cafe 2.0
« Reply #19 on: July 16, 2018, 10:58:12 PM »
u guys make my heart burst ,,,
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Offline SULTAN

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Re: PETRICHOR cafe 2.0
« Reply #20 on: July 17, 2018, 06:55:03 PM »




otis ghibli!au

    "into the forest i go, to lose my mind and find my soul" - j muir

young ujin is the youngest of a farmer's three sons and lives in a hut in the middle of nowhere. life can get a little lonely, especially when he's left at home for days, sometimes weeks. but when his efforts to aid a wounded creature in the forest lead him to the mythical land of elora, he realizes that his life will change forever.   
« Last Edit: May 07, 2019, 07:32:35 PM by SULTAN »
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Offline crows

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Re: PETRICHOR cafe 2.0
« Reply #21 on: July 21, 2018, 04:13:07 PM »
!!!!!!!
pack your bags percy, you're always to blame! info

Offline SULTAN

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Re: PETRICHOR cafe 2.0
« Reply #22 on: May 07, 2019, 09:45:24 PM »
a body from the balcony 
word count: 944
tw: multiple mentions of death, self-loathing

a/n: i haven't written anything in ages and i have an idea but it's hard to write down. this may serve as a preview for a series of oneshots? a hint of the main theme is in the very last section but i don't know where it's going, lmao. i needed to blow off some  steam so this is probably a bunch of gibberish, apologies in advance.

i want to know what happens for sure when you die. i'm curious, partially because of reasons i don't need to explain. is it beautiful, or anticlimactic? can you see your hands turn into cherry blossoms? or are you born again, right after everything goes black? will you meet your grandpa, or the celebrity you looked up to? what if you expect heaven and end up in hell..what do you see first? i wish there was a definite answer. but once you die, it's instantaneous, sudden, all-consuming; there's no turning back. i wish there was, maybe for a second or two, so you could tell someone what it's like. "it's nice! come with!" or "no. bad idea." i want to know all of these things but that's virtually impossible without having to listen to someone with a voice and smile too sweet for your liking stop you on the way to class or knock on your apartment door with fliers. and they're not much help, either. what i know is that death isn't a punishment, but more of a mockery. you're free, but you can't go back. ever. and then someone in heaven or hell or wherever is laughing at you and you wonder what to do. if you can even wonder anymore.
 
-

i dragged my feet across the cold marble, hesitating in front of the door before flicking on the switch. the light from inside was barely enough to expose the tops of my feet and uncut nails. i stared down at them with lost eyes and fingers twitching at my sides, then opened the door. i could sense herself in the mirror. i didn't want to look at myself but it was hard not to.

my hair was greasy and stuck out in all directions. there were dark marks under my eyes and a puffiness around my mouth. after a couple of weeks of clear skin, i finally began to break out again.

hag. i started to tear up unwarrantedly. good for nothing, stupid, ugly, bitch. i stepped back and looked down but there were my uncut toenails again. i looked up and the lights were too bright. so instead i stalked forward and squeezed out a wad of toothpaste and tried not to acknowledge my reflection mocking me.

loud bangs on the door. hurry up! hurry up hurry up hurry up hurry UPPPPPPPPP

i didn't answer so my brother banged on the door again.

IM COMING, OKAY?!

WHY DIDN'T YOU ANSWER THE FIRST TIME?! FUCK YOU.

i heard him storm down the stairs. asshole. i was able to look myself in the mirror. i didn't seem real.
-

crying crying crying crying and nothing gets better. i always cry and a lot of the time i don't but when i do it's no different. i was thinking of replacing the poster in my room for a while now because everyone made fun of it. it's not that i don't want it up there, as it is my room that i can do whatever i want with, but too many people come into it. which i hate. and then they make fun of my stuff as if they have any right to do so. so it's not because of the others that i want to do it it's because of myself and my own frustration (which is a tame word for the situation).

i kept looking at the poster. there's no way i would take it down, though. i had it in that spot for over a year. it bid me goodbye when i left for school, greeted me when i got back, saw me break down over physics, saw me scream with joy when i got into my dream college - it's been a silent but unwavering presence ever since i put it up. it never disappointed me, which i could say of only a couple others in my life.

god, your room smells like sweat. my brother came in and looked around. i hated when he said that. it never fucking smells like sweat - it's literally just him.

can you leave.

why?

because it's my room. and you came in uninvited.

the door was open.

no it wasn't. get out.

make me.

i got up and grabbed his shoulders and tried to kick at his ankles. he fought back, gripping my wrists and trying to wrench himself free.

fuck OFF!

why do you hate me so much?!

because you're annoying, you don't respect my privacy, you treat me like shit, you make fun of me and tell me my room smells when it doesn't, you-

but you do all that stuff to me!

only because you do that stuff to me! now get out! get OUT! i managed to push him out of my room and slam the door and lock it. i hate him. no i don't. i do but i don't. i hate me. i hate this room. i hate this house i hate this room i hate this fucking bed i hate this room and i want to die. but no i have too much to live for no i don't. i don't can someone give me a break. i hate this place. i never asked to be here.

-

oops i did it again echoed through the empty mall. something must've happened, i thought, but the fact that two chairs and a picnic table were set up was no less odd. i took a seat, my hand slowly loosening its grip off the knife in my pocket. i was early, and somehow figured i had nothing to worry about. i tilted backward in the chair and closed my eyes.
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