ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
In the event that I should undergo the tedious process of “growing up,” I want you to do a few things for me:
Hold a vigil for my child self under a canopy of vibrant leaves. Make sure my teddy bears, delimbed dolls, and prissy pillow cases are in attendance. Perform of eulogy lamenting how I was “that kind of child” with “these kinds of habits.” Build up a skewed image of my round cheeks and shy demeanor. The way I laughed and played with a careless abandon that the most adult-like adults secretly envy.
Forget the monster I sometimes was when I didn’t get my way, the crocodile tears that streamed down my cheeks in foul tempers. The violence of a quivering lip, balled fist, and flailing limbs. The pink and reds that overtook my face that reminded you of ripe tomatoes.
Burn a candle for each of the years that I managed to evade the looming specter of adulthood. Each candle should have a unique name. Candle one should be Drool. Two should be Babble. Three should be Talk Too Much and so on and so forth. Watch how each candle melts away into a messy pool slowly at first, then all at once. Nothing but a wick will show that they ever were. The pool to represent that they’ll never be again.
Always remind me that the world should never be taken too seriously. There are serious adult things to be serious about but concentrating on them too much will only lead to belly aches and short tempers. Nobody has much patience for either.
Tell me to avoid falling into the stream. The mercurial tides that dictate the way on should talk, the way someone should dress, the way someone should act to become the most adultiest of adults. The lake to which they lead is shallow and stagnant. Fight against these tides or camp on a bit of comfortable surf. Take in the sun and watch the stream pass. When you’re bold enough, craft a boat and chart your own path.
And most importantly, remind me that "growing up" is a continual process and comes in many varied forms. Adults come in all shapes and sizes. Like plants, they grow in their own time and some take longer to fully bloom.Most have no idea what they're doing. Those who say they do are perhaps children in disguise, the collar of their trench coats popped high to hide their pouty cheeks.
Hold a vigil for my child self under a canopy of vibrant leaves. Make sure my teddy bears, delimbed dolls, and prissy pillow cases are in attendance. Perform of eulogy lamenting how I was “that kind of child” with “these kinds of habits.” Build up a skewed image of my round cheeks and shy demeanor. The way I laughed and played with a careless abandon that the most adult-like adults secretly envy.
Forget the monster I sometimes was when I didn’t get my way, the crocodile tears that streamed down my cheeks in foul tempers. The violence of a quivering lip, balled fist, and flailing limbs. The pink and reds that overtook my face that reminded you of ripe tomatoes.
Burn a candle for each of the years that I managed to evade the looming specter of adulthood. Each candle should have a unique name. Candle one should be Drool. Two should be Babble. Three should be Talk Too Much and so on and so forth. Watch how each candle melts away into a messy pool slowly at first, then all at once. Nothing but a wick will show that they ever were. The pool to represent that they’ll never be again.
Always remind me that the world should never be taken too seriously. There are serious adult things to be serious about but concentrating on them too much will only lead to belly aches and short tempers. Nobody has much patience for either.
Tell me to avoid falling into the stream. The mercurial tides that dictate the way on should talk, the way someone should dress, the way someone should act to become the most adultiest of adults. The lake to which they lead is shallow and stagnant. Fight against these tides or camp on a bit of comfortable surf. Take in the sun and watch the stream pass. When you’re bold enough, craft a boat and chart your own path.
And most importantly, remind me that "growing up" is a continual process and comes in many varied forms. Adults come in all shapes and sizes. Like plants, they grow in their own time and some take longer to fully bloom.Most have no idea what they're doing. Those who say they do are perhaps children in disguise, the collar of their trench coats popped high to hide their pouty cheeks.
Literature
Blue Neighbourhood
When I close my eyes I still see your ghost
cause you know that I can't trust myself with my 3AM shadow.
Mortal bodies, timeless souls
kissing up on fences -
that liquid guilt is on my lips.
Life it's hard, I know -
I see quiet nights poured over ice and Tanqueray
where dreams go to die.
But you left me no choice
I'm down to my skin and bone.
We're like two halves of one heart
not ready to be found
and it's driving me wild.
I was just trying to be like you,
a phoenix in the fire;
how do I get to heaven?
Literature
The Silent Fox~Chapter 9
The room was dead silent. Everybody was speechless. It was the last thing anyone expected. When several families asked for the same child it was a bit the child but mostly the orphanage who decided where he would go. Between the man everyone hated who would use him and probably mistreat him and the foxes that scared him by their very existence for as long as they knew him but could ensure he wouldn’t destroy a village, the caretakers couldn’t decide which would be the best. Or the least bad. He was already supposed to go with the kitsunes so in a way it would be like they had planned, he would just not come back anytime soon.
Literature
Bruises you Bestow
I've drank my weight in wine,
Blood red and staining my lips.
Your flesh was mine to dine.
Mouth on mine as my digit dips.
The heavy heat and hot breath,
The weight of a palm on my neck.
You're my nicotine and my meth,
And I'm there to worship and wreck.
You said, "You're body is but a vessel,
A vessel to the soul that I so adore."
The words made me slick and swell,
But my pride was bruised and sore.
Then I wake and you're long gone,
With your signature lines on my back.
The sheets were ruffled and drawn,
And the door opened just a crack.
The sheep beneath the wolf, he said,
How do you degrade my dignity so.
Gone from a king to a slut in
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Last Edit: 10 April 2017
A bit of nonsense writing.
This was originally conceived as a silly piece (I know that's the second time I said that this month) but its ending was inspired by recent feelings. Recent events. Nothing too serious but things I couldn't help but take really seriously. I do realize that some of the messages may come off as rather rote but it doesn't hurt to remind oneself of these things.
And you know what, I'm calling it. There is a song that directly inspired this piece but since it wasn't strictly fictional I hesitated in putting it in the Mixtape category. If anyone's curious, here's the song:
Same Drugs (Chance the Rapper)
(I actually really want to dedicate another story to this song since I've been kinda obsessed with it for the last two months)
As always, thanks for reading!
A bit of nonsense writing.
This was originally conceived as a silly piece (I know that's the second time I said that this month) but its ending was inspired by recent feelings. Recent events. Nothing too serious but things I couldn't help but take really seriously. I do realize that some of the messages may come off as rather rote but it doesn't hurt to remind oneself of these things.
And you know what, I'm calling it. There is a song that directly inspired this piece but since it wasn't strictly fictional I hesitated in putting it in the Mixtape category. If anyone's curious, here's the song:
Same Drugs (Chance the Rapper)
(I actually really want to dedicate another story to this song since I've been kinda obsessed with it for the last two months)
As always, thanks for reading!
© 2017 - 2024 MissAddledMiss
Comments9
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
This was beautifully written and so true about life. I especially liked the vigil being held, it really does seem like when we truly grow up our chld side sort of dies, sure we all have our inner child but the innocence and carefreeness never really comes back.
All in all a wonderful short piece. Thanks for sharing.
All in all a wonderful short piece. Thanks for sharing.