Author Topic: ◜ . 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 ┊ 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐩 𝐧𝐨. 𝟐 ◞  (Read 1448 times)

Offline scully

  • i really hope it hurts like hell
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idk what to do w all my emotions
・゚✧ and that's because i wanna be your favorite boy, i wanna be the one that makes your day, the one you think about as you lie awake. i can't wait to be your number one, i'll be your biggest fan and you'll be mine, but i still wanna break your heart and make you cry.

Offline buddie

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how is it so easy for you to be kind to people he asked
milk and honey dripped from my lips as i answered
cause people have not been kind to me     (  r.k.  )

Offline buddie

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oofie
« Reply #62 on: February 13, 2019, 05:07:58 PM »
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fausto silva.
« Last Edit: February 13, 2019, 05:12:06 PM by marty »
how is it so easy for you to be kind to people he asked
milk and honey dripped from my lips as i answered
cause people have not been kind to me     (  r.k.  )

Offline buddie

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scholarship essay
« Reply #63 on: February 22, 2019, 09:45:47 AM »
LIONHEART & ICHOR
"Tell me who you are."
22 February 2019

Lionheart & Ichor

   When I was in elementary school, from preschool to fifth grade, I was a shy kid with an inability to say “no” and a knack for crying if I got in even the tiniest bit of trouble—although I’d argue that I was not the one who should have gotten in trouble all those few instances. I was quite possibly one of the most sensitive, submissive, spineless kids in the state, and at the time, I was too young to realize that it wasn’t a good thing to be the teacher’s pet, or that saying ‘no’ was a very important part of life—I was too innocent and sheltered.
   In first or second grade, I was on the playground during recess, watching as kids giggled and laughed with their friends as they tried to climb up the slides. I wanted to have fun and be cool, too, so when one slide was clear, I smiled so bright it hurt my face, and I stepped up onto the bottom of the slide. I hadn’t seen the teacher coming up behind me, and I nearly cried as they pulled me away and told me to go stand against the wall—that was the punishment for doing something “bad” at recess, like climbing up the slides, except I had been the only one who had ever gotten in trouble for it. I was too upset to say anything to defend myself, so I let myself be taken to the Great Wall of Shame with tears in my eyes, watching the other kids who had been climbing up the slides continuing to do so with a wistful gaze.
   Maybe I shouldn’t have followed after those kids like a ‘sheep,’ as some would say, but what do you expect from a shy little kid who had very few friends? Everyone wants to fit in and belong somewhere, and I was—and still am—one of those kids that never fit in anywhere, no matter how hard I tried. Until just recently, I thought it was horrible that I didn’t belong anywhere—I was some sort of weird straggler, desperately looking for somewhere I could fit in.
   Now, I realize that was never the path I was intended to go, or even want to go. I can’t sit in one group for the rest of my life, or pin myself to one place and one thing—I was always meant to travel the world, integrate myself into all different kinds of groups of people, immerse myself in all different cultures, and truly experience the world. I was never meant to stay put and “belong” to something or some group—I was born to create myself and shape myself rather than let the binding of belonging keep me from reaching and grasping the person I am.
   I was made from stars, given a lion’s heart, and the blood in my veins runs gold—and I fully intend to show the world just what I am made out of.
how is it so easy for you to be kind to people he asked
milk and honey dripped from my lips as i answered
cause people have not been kind to me     (  r.k.  )

Offline buddie

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scholarship essay 2
« Reply #64 on: February 26, 2019, 09:24:37 AM »
I MAY BREAK, BUT I WILL NOT BEND
"Tell me who you are."
26 February 2019

I May Break, but I Will Never Bend

   Expectations. I am expected to write this essay a certain way. I am expected to use a huge event in my life that impacted me, changed me, or helped shape who I am—but I will always fall short of this expectation when it is thrust upon me.
   I do not lead an interesting life. I go to school, sit for seven hours listening to teachers lecture, writing essays, trying to remember that one Spanish word I always forget—and then I go home, and I sit on my laptop, and I talk to my online friends, telling them all about the long day I had that has caused me so much exhaustion that I just want to sleep for an entire month or two.
   I am no part of any activities, and I have never had the money to be able to go on big trips, including the mission trip to Ecuador I so desperately wanted to go on. My family has never been to Adventureland or Disney World, or even Six Flags, and the most exciting thing I have ever done is sitting on the windowsill of the car with my body out while it was moving; and the most exciting road trip I have taken is to Texas to see my dad.
   The expectation put on teenagers to get a job and pay for their own stuff at such a young age, to have friends they go out and do stuff with instead of sit at home with online friends, and get a 4.0 in school with all A’s in all of their AP and college classes, is one I fall short of—and I wouldn’t change a thing. These expectations are killing generations of powerful minds, stomped out by the horrible education system and the world around them.
   I observe my classmates and the world around me with tired eyes. I watch the world as it caves in on itself, as my classmates would rather get struck by lightning than come to school, and as violent and hateful people continue to rip everyone apart. I observe and I analyze, and I was younger than I am now when I came to the conclusion that this isn’t the world I want to live in.
   And I, with gold running through my veins from years of built up rage towards the cruel world and it’s even crueler inhabitants; from years of being alone and drowning in a depression that I’m still saving myself from; from years of emotional abuse and years of having to hear about thousands of suicides and self-harm stories—I am going to do something about it.
   I am going to be one of the many chess pieces on the board of the world that helps shape a better tomorrow, and I will not stop until I have, no matter how exhausted I am—no matter how much easier it would be to just give up—
   For future generations and thereafter.
« Last Edit: February 26, 2019, 09:26:20 AM by marty »
how is it so easy for you to be kind to people he asked
milk and honey dripped from my lips as i answered
cause people have not been kind to me     (  r.k.  )

Offline buddie

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i like that one better but hghghgh i dunno
how is it so easy for you to be kind to people he asked
milk and honey dripped from my lips as i answered
cause people have not been kind to me     (  r.k.  )

Offline buddie

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scholarship essay 3
« Reply #66 on: February 26, 2019, 10:01:20 AM »
I DIE IN THE END
"Tell me who you are."
26 February 2019

I Die in the End

   Every time my eyes open in the morning, and every time they shut again at night, I die. Every time I talk to my friends, I die. Every time I get out of bed or lay back in it, I die.
   I give every part of myself to the world, and then it chews it up and spits it back out again.
   “Ugh, I got an A- in this class. I’m gonna die!”
   “Did you even try?”
   “…So, anyway-”
   Words wrap around my throat and squeeze, and they dig their dark, grimey hands into my chest and pull until I can’t breathe and my head swims. Little black dots cover my vision until, finally, movement stops, and I sit in my chair, frozen, fingers slack over the keyboard.
   I am the character in the story who dies in the beginning as a plot device. I am given nothing but stresses and trauma, but it goes unnoticed—and I, too, go unnoticed until I am dead, giving the protagonist a device to better his own life, or to give everyone something to blame for his switch to the dark path. I die in the end that is everyone else’s beginning.
   But that is not my story—I am the story of the ghost who becomes a guardian angel, despite what the world has done to them, and despite their own cynicism because of what people have done to them.
   I am the invisible force that guides and gets no credit, but continues to lend their hands, their mind, their soul, and their heart to anyone who may need it. I am the light warms the people who give no second thought to them. I am the rock that keeps them steady despite being unstable and brittle, myself, broken and on the constant verge of shattering.
   I give myself to the world and get nothing but suffocating heartbreak back. Exhaustion seeps through every pore, the want to give up slowly encompassing my brain—but I fight. No matter how far I stray, or how close I am to giving up, I sit myself down and I fight.
   I was born to die for others, and I am happy to walk down that path, but I will not just lay down and do nothing. I will fight for myself, for others who can’t fight for themselves, and I will fight for future generations of people who die as plot devices. I will fight until every last bone in my body shatters, and my heart and body is torn.
   I die in the end, but I will not let that be my legacy.
how is it so easy for you to be kind to people he asked
milk and honey dripped from my lips as i answered
cause people have not been kind to me     (  r.k.  )

Offline buddie

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( ailill arler ) INSPIRED BY
nathan young from misfits
seth cohen from the o.c.
loki from thor / the avengers
dean winchester from supernatural
five ( hargreeves ) AND klaus hargreeves from the umbrella academy
how is it so easy for you to be kind to people he asked
milk and honey dripped from my lips as i answered
cause people have not been kind to me     (  r.k.  )