Showing posts with label Writer's Block. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writer's Block. Show all posts

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Dysfunctionality

    I finally got an idea! I've been sitting here, looking tot he topics for the Writer's Block Chapter Five thinking that there's an idea somewhere...just...where? And then it hit me; an idea for the dysfunctionality prompt. I don't know how, it just did. It hit me, so here it is. Enjoy :)
    Dysfunctional.
                                How can one label a person or thing dysfunctional?
                               If it works, it is functioning.
                                                                                                                         They call us dysfunctional.
                                                       They claim I should leave him.
   But we love one another and we always find our way back to each other, how is that wrong?
                                                                                                                He's broken my heart.
                                                      I've broken his.
                       He's been hurt so many times by others.
                   
                                        I've been hurt so many times by others.
                                                    When the world is broken, who is                                                                                                                                                     whole?
  We fit, if barely.                                                            
                                            A puzzle that does not quite seem right.
                                                             That is labeled.
                                                              Dysfunctional.
                               

                                    If everything is not perfect, it is
                                                                              dysfunctional.
                                            But what is perfect?
                                                         

                                            He hurts me with his wild claims.
                     I hurt him by my mistakes.
                                                            But he makes me feel whole again.
                             I help ease his pain, help him see the light through the fog.
                                                                                                                                               Dysfunctional.
                                                                       
                                                                                 I'm sane,
                                                                                     or used to be,
                                                               how can that label apply?
                                  Broken?
                                                       Since a while.
                                                                                              Dysfunctional?
                                                                                                                           I say no.
                                                                          The world says yes.
               All the world is is dysfuntionality.

Friday, September 20, 2013

Heartbroken

    It was a day like any other with the early morning sun streaming into the tent. Joan liked to call it our 'shack', even though it was only this water-resistant cloth we had found and decided to carry around with us. I never did understand some of her jokes and wording for things. I suppose it was just one of those things I was beyond understanding because of what I was, what I am. On that day, when I left the tent and didn't see Joan sitting at our small fire, I felt a pin of panic in my heart. She had this habit of wandering off on her own, so I was used to it. But why today, of all days, would I be so worried?
    Sparse dead trees surrounded me. Dead grass and dry dirt rested under my boots. Not too far off I could see a city; ruined buildings covered with various plant life, dead or otherwise. But no Joan. The world had become too dangerous for either of us to wander off on our own. I had told her this plenty of times. I went back inside quickly to grab my large knife and throwing cards: four aces I had been gifted with along with an actual deck of playing cards. If someone had decided to take her or bite her or...who knew what else, I swore that I would kill them slowly. Running back outside, I looked around again to decide where to start looking.
    And there was Joan, sitting innocently near our dead fire, fixing her bow.
    "Joan!," I shouted, marching over to her. She looked up to me, smiling even though my face was likely stormy. Strange how only some months ago my face never would have been anywhere near stormy nor would I have ever felt so concerned over...anyone. I also never would have wanted to hit someone...let alone kiss.
    "Aw, come on. I was just looking for some breakfast, wanted to surprise you." She set her bow down and stood, crossing the last few steps to me. I'm about three inches shorter than her and very much her opposite. Where her build was athletic, I am simply thin. Her voice held so much more emotion than I could possibly fathom, while mine has only the bare minimum; close to being monotone. I am paler than most humans, with only some tint to what used to be paper white skin. Joan...she had dark, colored skin nearly as smooth as mine. And that was surprising, since she was human and most humans did not have smooth skin. Her medium length black hair was tied back in a ponytail that day and my long, red hair was loosely hanging down my back. Her eyes were what I loved the most about her physical aspects. They were like emeralds in her dark face. Her eyes put my pale gray ones to shame.
    The deep green of her eyes had enraptured me once more, so much so I hardly noticed her arms wrapping around me. "I didn't mean to worry you, Lena," she said, her voice comforting. The name of 'Lena' still sounded strange when applied to me. I used to be simply a number, and now I am always Lena.
    And Joan loved me even knowing the shell I used to be.
    I lifted myself up the few inches to kiss her lovingly, having dropped my knife and cards to the ground next to my feet. Time seemed to belong to only us and it seemed as if the world had not been destroyed by those I used to belong with. I do not belong with humans or those I was made with, but I did and do belong with Joan and she with me.
    After much too short a time, she pulled away and went back to fixing her bow. "I was thinking we should see about finding something not mutated today," she said once she was sitting.
    "Since when are there non-mutated creatures? The closest we may find is...I am not sure," I shrugged a shoulder and took my weapons back up, sliding the cards and knife into their sheaths on my belt, before sitting next to her.
    "I saw a squirrel. Small, no spikes."
    "I do not believe you."
    "Honest! I saw one," she insisted, setting her fixed bow aside as a competitive look came to her eyes. "Tell you what, let's have a little bet. If one of us finds a non-mutated animal, I win. We don't, you do."
    I grinned at her and poked her arm. "What do I receive when I win?"
    "Hm...well, I know what I want when I win." She gave me a quick kiss, grabbed her bow, then dashed off. At least this time I knew which direction she went and that she had left, so I was not as worried. I went the opposite way of her and climbed up into one of the trees that had a few more leaves than the others. And waited.
    It didn't take long before I heard a familiar choking and gargling sound, every now and again interrupted with groans or moans. With knife in had, my gaze flicked around near the base of 'my' tree. I knew this was not one of those that spoke. it was one of those that was fast once it caught sight or scent of its prey. Joan and I had found one, after we bludgeoned it to near death, that spoke. It died, but I cannot say I am sorry. It was probably just part of the experiment those that used to be my people had managed to do better on. That is how this whole world came to be; They decided every single person should be like Them.
    The Walking came into my field of vision, limping along on his lonesome. I would have used one of my throwing cards, but that likely would not have gotten through to the brain. So I threw my knife inside. It stuck right into the back of his head, blackened blood seeping out around the knife as he thudded tot he ground.
    I jumped from the tree, landing lightly on my feet, and quickly went to pull my knife from his head. They never travel alone. There is always at least two, if not a whole pack. I had to go warn Joan so we could pack up and move on. If we did not...there was no telling what would come next.
    But that was when I heard a shrill cry that made my blood run cold.
    That had my heart stop for a moment.
    That announced the end of what I cared of.
    "Lena!"
    I took of as quickly as my feet would carry me, heading right towards where I heard Joan's scream. Did more of the Dead find her? Did They find her? I did not know, but I was going to find out and make whoever it was pay for hurting her, for making her scream like that.
    When I made it to our camp, the first thing I saw was a normal gray squirrel near the now lighted fire. Then I saw Joan, being held firmly by two of Them. One was male, the other female. Other than their gender, they were completely alike: pure white hair, paper white skin, and emotionless pale, gray eyes. I looked nothing like them except for my eyes and shape. Everything had been changed since my Execution.
    "Mother was right. We found her," the male said in his voice that was entirely devoid of any emotion.
    The female nodded. "Yes. Now," she looked to me, "Come with us to home. We will not harm this one."
    I did not believe them. For some reason they had swords, not needles filled with sedative or poison. We...They never used weapons like swords. While they waited for my reply, Joan managed to struggle from their grasp, moving over to me quickly.
    The look on my face must have been complete fear, for she put her hands gently on my cheeks only for a second before turning to the two.
    Then there was a sword protruding form her back, nearly skewering me with her.
    I am not sure what happened after that. I remember red blood. I remember black blood. I remember nearly black blood, which must have been mine. There was no pain, but that was only because I could not feel pain. I was not fully human nor fully Them. When things came back into focus for me, I was holding Joan to me. Her skin seemed paler somehow. But her skin was a living color....how could it be paler? She was colder, too. Her once beautiful eyes marred by an emptiness.
    I felt...something in my heart. Something I had not been taught to mirror with facial expressions or tone of voice or simply how it felt and what to call it. I felt as if someone had stabbed my heart instead of Joan. I felt as if my heart had been tossed onto the fire when I realized what I had to do next. I was not sure how it managed some people changed after death and not others, but I did not want that to happen to her. I took one of their swords from their cold hands, though their coldness was not different from how they normally were. I used the sword to stab through her head, with tears welling up inside of me. I had never felt this way before; another first emotion Joan had given me. Except I did not want this feeling of complete and utter loneliness. I did not want to feel as if I lost the only thing that mattered to me, that gave me reason to keep trying to better myself. I did not want to feel...so heartbroken. Yes, that was what this emotion was called: heartbroken.
    I left the sword next to her and turned towards where I knew They were. I could not bury her as we had no shovel. I could not lay down beside her to die. I had to stop Them from what they were doing. Or warn people. That was what we were working on. We wanted to warn others that these...monsters were taking people to try and make more of Them. That they were making the dead walk. That all of this was Their fault.
    I promised I would do that. I would keep that promise. For Joan I would keep my promise and make sure to ruin those I was once part of.
    My heart was broken. I didn't care about being careful anymore.
    Yes, this is a post for the Writer's Block Chapter Four, click the link to read more about the challenge and other prompts and entire. My own entry this time is taken rather much form a story I'm working on, at least it's set int eh same world. I know, I know, post-apocalyptic is...not so new anymore, but meh! I'm really just too happy that all that stuff in pic, minus my hair and skin and the background which I had to edit in were all from one place! See, this is why doing random things because they seem interesting is good. I just couldn't believe how it all worked out and fit perfectly. Too ecstatic about that. But where it is from is MadPea's hunt for September; Lennon Park Massacre. I mostly went because I stumbled upon their blog, saw something about a camping massacre-thing and...well, I mostly went for pics only, sine the sim is nicely done. But you see how my original plan worked out, don't you?
    Anyway, I'll save you form more rambling and just say this: I hope you enjoyed the little short story. :)

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Sex in SL

    When most people hear the word sex, they think of the physical act. I'll admit that is something that first pops into my head for a moment, but the thought of someone's physical make-up accompanies it. Sex is a person's physical body as well as the act itself, but their gender is entirely mental. While most think the two synonymous, they aren't.
    Now what does this have to do with SL?
    Everyone's avatar has a virtual sex human, furry, whatever else, they have a sex (and possibly have sex, too). The virtual sex may more correctly reflect their real gender than their physical bodies do. But, think of this for a moment: you are a person who has never felt like you belong in your own skin. You have always acted as the other sex, more than your own. You know why; you are a woman in a man's body or a man in a woman's. You can't afford an expensive surgery to truly show your inner-self, but at least you can dress however you want. Though there is a stigma following you because of how you dress, how you talk, how you love. But you are on SL. In SL, you are a man or a woman; physically and mentally. It helps to ease some of what you go through. It helps you be you.
    Now, that is entirely hypothetical, but also in the realm of possibility. Yes, people who have their sex and gender not matching may have severe depression, but maybe there are a few who find a way to keep themselves from falling too low, from maybe committing suicide. Maybe Second Life is something that helps them cope, as there is no stigma or expensive surgery to be saved for. Some in SL are their real sex, others not. Some may be a different sex to create their fantasy, some might do it for fun or a new experience, but what of those who are showing their true selves? Like the situation I gave, some cannot afford the surgery, but with a virtual realm, they can fit in their frame.
    We are all unique.
    We are all art.
    Nothing is wrong with the people, who's genders differ from their sex, finding a way so that the unique piece of art they are can fit into a frame like every other artwork.
    I'll admit it, since it's no big secret anyhow, I'm a psychology student who was flipping through her textbook with the topics of the Writer's Block Chapter three on her mind. This is what happens, very much so. But, in anycase, I just had to participate again since...I love the topics Katya comes up with. I also love to peer at the other entries and see the different take son the topics. Granted, I realize mine is probably a bit...far off from what was 'meant' to be written about, but here's to hoping I'm not the only one thinking in this direction!
    Anyhow, am already anticipating the next topics and will likely write something up for those, too.

Hair: Magika Give
Blouse: Mesh Head - Off The Shoulder Blouse (Free, HUD to change colors)
Underwear: :Envious: Love Me Lower (Group Gift, SLurl)
Skin: .::WoW Skins::. Nahla Milk (Kollective June gift)
Shoes: SLX Outfit: Long Dress pumps  (pumps come with dress, but the dress itself is nice as well and the skirt changes colors with HUD)

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Losing My Religon

    Yes, I haven't blogged in a while, but...there's been things keeping me from it. Mostly just RL stuff affecting my mood for anything picture or blog related. I'm back, though, and figured why not start with this neat challenge?

    Recently I came across a blog I have yet to peer at and saw a challenge that piqued my interest. I'm not sure how I got to it, but that's besides the point. You can read about the challenge itself here. Now, being the little hopeful writer I am, I couldn't much resist to put something in for this week. But before we get to that, I want to mention a couple things on my styling. The hair was one of the gifts at Hair Fair and, incase you're wondering, I chose the streaked naturals pack with the brown with blue streaks for that one hair. Probably when I have lindens I'll go to that store to find other styles and such stuff since...I like the HUD and stuff that can be done with it. Even if I were to get only one color pack with the paid for one, there still would be quite a few options it looks like.
    Anyway the undershirt was part of an outfit I got from a friend last summer I think. So it can't be bought on it's own as far as I'm aware. The top was also a gift from Hair Fair; chances are it's in the Heartless store, not sure though. And as i mentioned below, and probably on some past blog, the necklace is from an outfit. A very beautiful dress, yes, but if you only want the necklace, you would have to get the whole outfit that comes with it.
    Onto the challenge: I chose the prompt 'Losing my Religion'. I originally thought of the song and doing something inspired off of that, but I ended up changing my mind to what my entry is now; something a bit recent and more me. In anycase, my entry to the challenge is right below the picture. Hope y'all enjoy.
    I was born and raised, for most of my life so far, Catholic. I was baptized. I had my first communion. I went to Sunday school. I sang in the choir. I volunteered in the daycare with my mom. I almost went to a Catholic elementary school. Basically, I had a religious upbringing. That mostly had to deal with my grandma, though, and once she died...my parents, brother, and I didn't go to church as much. I can still remember going to church with my aunt, mom, brother, grandma, cousin, and dad. I still remember skipping along the bricked sidewalk of Olde Town in my little 'heels', listening to clacking sound they made, and watching my skirt swish about. I loved it. Then after we all would go to Olde Country Buffet, eat, talk...and just be a family.
    My grandma died when I was about five. That death, the first death I really ever dealt with, really impacted me and still saddens me to this day. My family and I still went to church once she died, but it was less. My dad didn't go because the pews hurt his back, which he has problems with without wooden benches. My aunt and cousin didn't go with us. We also moved and changed churches. That wasn't too bad, since my brother and I would go to Sunday school soon as we changed. I really did enjoy speaking and playing with the other children. It was fun. That was what I looked forward to when going to church. That and my frilly, Sunday dresses and grownup shoes. My brother and I also joined the children's choir. That was fun, too, just like my school choir...only more religion based.
    Again, time moved on and I grew up. Once I couldn't really go to Sunday school and once I had done my first communion, I grew bored. Sitting on uncomfortable wooden benches, listening to a priest go on about things I'd heard a hundred times already...I didn't like it. Slowly, my brother, mom, and I went to church less and less. We only went on Christmas and Palm Sunday. My brother and I stopped joining the choir. Then my brother stopped wanting to go. Then my mom and I only went on Palm Sunday. At some point...we all just stopped, mostly due to transportation issues, but we still stopped. That's not to say my mom doesn't want to go, she's probably the only one who does. She's the one who asked me if I would want to do confirmation or not. I didn't do it, but I would go to church with her if she wanted except that I don't consider myself Catholic anymore. I tried to cling to my faith by praying, going to church with friends...but it didn't work. I enjoyed going to church with friends, yes, but the words that were being spoken and sung just didn't click anymore.
    I believe that I have grown and moved pass my 'old' religion and found one that fits me better. One that...I'm not constantly questioning. Yes, I'm not going all by what I'm told by whatever book, but it still fits more than believing in what Catholics, and all other Christian faiths, believe. I think I may have been more enamored by the idea of family and friendship than the actual belief system. It was all the children my age, the whole thing of my family going together, all of that that made me care. I prayed when I was little to this big man in the sky who would make everything better. I kept thinking that my grandma was looking down on me and keeping me safe. I'll admit those are nice thoughts, but they aren't what I believe. Not truly. Others may believe that and I know my parents, and probably my brother, do...but not me. I'm lucky to have openminded parents who didn't get all ranty when I mentioned I was looking into other religions.
    I am who I am and my beliefs are the same. I may have lost my first religion, but I gained a new one. I know this has been said by others before, but people really shouldn't be afraid to let go of something simply for fear of drifting about in endless space. Sometimes you have to let go to find something you want to hang on to. Losing doesn't always mean you have one thing less.

Hair: *Alice Project* Erica - Create Your Own (-Mesh-)
Necklace: Morgana Necklace (-included with ViGo Morgana Dress-)
Top: Heartless: Laced Crop Top (Black) (-Mesh-)
Undershirt: Gypsy Summer Shirt
Pose: .:Still Life:. [pose] crumbling wall freebie