they said i swam the sea.: arwen-nsk: Common... →
arwen-nsk: Common Writing Mistakes amandaonwriting: Benjamin Dreyer is the VP Executive Managing Editor & Copy Chief of Random House Publishing Group. Below is his list of the common stumbling blocks for authors, from A to X. One buys antiques in an antiques store from…
officially moving to aletterfromtheheart.tumblr.com
paint me a masterpiece of my body with your parted lips with your nimble fingers with your lean limbs down to every intangible atom of your existence. show me what it’s like to love someone with so much passion that it almost hurts physically because even in the dark you seem to have every line of my figure memorized. || ©...
i want to smother you with my love.
every breath you take belongs to me: for it is not only your heart that i desire, but the very essence of your being. remember me when you’re awake, but more importantly, remember me when you’re asleep. dream of my lips on your heated skin, my thin fingers entangled in yours, and my hair splayed across the sheets underneath you. dream of me and only me, because even though you have my...
bonesinhand: It threaded around your collarbones, twisting the muscles of your shoulders yet doing little to straighten the curve of your spine.
the woes of clubbing.
“she’s too fat.” “damn jay, you’re an ass.” kyle raises a thin brow and the seizure-inducing lights do little to hide the look of surprise evident on his face. the aforementioned girl sways her well-endowed trunk to far east movement proclaiming their love for girls on the dance floor, blissfully ignorant of the judgemental looks jay sends her way. “shut up. i’m drunk and fabulous and she’s...
everything i write nowadays is complete shit.
why do i feel like my skills as a writer are decreasing with time instead of improving? :s
What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that...– Neil Postman (from his book: Amusing Ourselves to Death)
just finished reading brave new world for english...
theycallmemrsmarshall: i agree. although brave new world isn’t the worst book i’ve ever read (twilighttwilighttwilight), i didn’t really enjoy it. my english TA raved about this book, but when i read it i was horribly disappointed. the concept was really interesting, but i didn’t like the execution. i also find huxley’s writing style somewhat annoying. :s fml now...
it absolutely baffles me how some japanese have the audacity to claim that the nanjing massacre never happened. is this some sad twisted humourless poor excuse of a joke? i mean, basically your saying that the documented reports of hundreds/thousands of people (including that of your own countrymen and allies) are all fabricated lies. and that the families of 300,000+ victims decided to just band...
reading the rape of nanking
and it’s breaking my poor heart. how do people become so heartless in the event of the war? how do people forget that even the war prisoners they’re brutally raping, mutilating, and murdering, also have families and friends themselves? imagine if it was your own child, sister, brother, mother, father, grandmother, grandfather in their position…how can you have no soul? no...
people say that they don’t want to be labelled or categorized, but i think that they’re lying. everyone wants to feel like they belong, everyone wants to feel like they’re being included. the things that set people apart are also what brings them together. people stereotype and categorize as a mechanism to remember. so perhaps instead, what people really yearn for the most, is...
ugliness reeks from your soul; it merges into your body becoming a thick second skin. people can smell it on you, people can sense it on you. you’re not ugly because of your appearance, you’re ugly because of your heart.
for once i would like to prove myself wrong.
i’m one of those people who never want to sleep at night and can’t wake up in the morning. i find immense joy in just aimlessly browsing the internet at 4am, only to complain that i’m exhausted the next day. however, come 10am and my alarm begins blaring its daily proclamation of love for my waking existence, i’ll refuse to leave my bed until the very last possible minute...
you are a sudden burst of colour; tantalizing red in my world of neutrals. and you invoke in me an array of emotions: green with jealousy, pink with adoration. so the greys and taupes organize protest, for i now only dream in shades of you. but they had lost the battle to colour, the moment that you smiled at me. || © 2012 ink-onheart ||
what’s more clichéd: the fact that you’re in love with him, or the fact that he doesn’t love you back?
you are the soft skin and silky carresses. →
zezecat: He loves her with a fierce sort of protection, never truly wanting to touch her less he break her fragility. In the possibility of making her stronger- he never lays a finger on her. Never utters a word. He covers her entire presence and imagines her naked body and see all the curves and bumps of her perfected skin to every pin-pointed detail, and he knows that he loves her roundness...
callistobiscuits: things things don’t things don’t always things don’t always end things don’t always end the things don’t always end the way things don’t always end the way you things don’t always end the way you dishwasher
callistobiscuits: bony scaffold glued to muscle, wrapped in disinfected skin frowning creatures dev- our dust-grey flesh of the child trapped within love this.
i fear the dark, not because of the monsters that i know of, but because of the monsters that i don’t.
sometimes i feel like there is a monster trapped underneath my skin. where i should feel joy, i feel envy. where i should feel love, i feel indifference. and sometimes, for the briefest moment, the monster takes over. when i am weak with emotion, he numbs my bloodlines with poisonous thoughts, constricts my lungs with cold unforgiving fingers, and tears away at my flesh with jagged teeth. i try to...
i abandoned my heart on your doorway. now all that i have left are these words i should have said.