The story of my life. Half a glass of wine before me and I can't decide between it and the cranapple juice. Maybe he'd get it, and maybe he wouldn't. I care not anymore. He's gone and I'm still here. That's what matters right? But deep down, I know that's a lie. Because truthfully, I find it easier to lie to myself than except the truth.
"I don't remember the date anymore. Once upon a time I knew it I'm sure but time blurs all things does it not? So, here I am. Writing yet another pointless story beneath an empty glass of white zinfandel wine with an empty glass of optimism to top it off. What is sorrow without a drunkard to accompany it ri
I wish for days of epic romances she told me. For days when the world makes sense again. When love is real and pure and honest and people don't remember that divorce once existed, much less tore most families apart. That's what she told me as I held her hand. Her smile was gentle and peaceful. My hands were shaking and she looked at me and told me to rest easy. Rest easy. Of all things for her to say.
"I was sixteen when it happened. She came into my room and told me dad was leaving. I looked her in the eyes with all the cold malice I could muster from my heart and I told her I knew. I had always known it was inevitable. He was having an af
Fated Love - Chapter 1 Revamp by Kykel, literature
Literature
Fated Love - Chapter 1 Revamp
I loved her more than life itself... But I could never tell her. Fate demanded that the truth would only hurt her. Fate demanded I die . And die I knew I would.
Chapter 1
"Hurry up, Jed." Sylvia shouted as she pranced up the steps to the main hall. "I don't want to be late for the ball." She let out a pouty huff before following with a tease. "You're always so slow." Jed stepped from the carriage with a frown and looked up at an impatient Sylvia.
"Yeah? Well, I didn't have to come. I could just as easily get back in the carriage and go home." He smirked mockingly as he taunted back. Yet, the s
Chapter 1 The Lost Colony
Fire erupted in the night. The drought had dried everything out but Esther knew this was not caused by normal causes. It was them again. The dark ones they had come to be called. They came out of nowhere, demons of the night as though conjured from the darkest nightmare. The colonists feared for their lives. Many had already left. Others feared to leave but among them even more now feared to stay. In the past fortnight nearly 2 dozen had disappeared. The search parties hadn't come back. Esther hugged George as she cried. It wouldn't be long now before the rest were gone.
This was supposed to be a new star
I miss the days,
when the rest of the world wasn't real,
and I could hear the whisper of the wood,
and feel the warmth of the stars.
The security of a hug.
Life was simple,
misunderstood only.
Lived,
but untrusted,
for we all know the pain,
of betrayed hope.
When each step,
each breath,
quakes the very earth...
because she's untouched,
before your whisper is chosen.
...
Growth is tantalizing,
when you see it on others,
from your safe little nest.
You taste only what you want,
take it for granted,
and cherish that you did.
In the end,
it's not the days,
that speed up,
but rather yo
Follow the scent to the Cask of the Fallen Prophet King.
Chapter 17
"A shower." Leon announced grinning from ear to ear. Seth froze. Had he been joking? A shower? He'd had to have misheard him. "And a change in wardrobe will be in order too. I cannot have one of my subordinates walking around with rags and a coat of dirt so thick one cannot see their skin." Seth looked up. There was definably a hint of mocking humor to his voic
There was a time when bliss was determined by a bus ride home,
the theme of my life played through earphones.
Or under the universe,
her sparkling freckles captivating me from the back of my mom's toolbox.
Even from 3 am in the morning,
swinging the world away at the park.
There was a time a time when happiness was determined by my choice,
not the hated word "if".
That was when I was free,
when I was me.
Before rules and regulations,
and having to ask for permission
Before growing up.
But I guess,
invevitability gets us all.
There are two roads,
always have been.
One is right and one is left,
both are dark and scary.
B
What can I write here now? Am I aloud to say how I truly feel about something? Where is the line drawn? I don't know.
I don't know where I am.
I don't know what I am.
I don't know why I am.
I don't know how I am.
I don't know where I want to be.
I don't know what I want to be.
I don't know what I want to do.
I don't know why I'm still here.
I don't what I'm aloud to do,
or say.
I don't know where I'm aloud to go,
or who I'm aloud to talk to,
or what I'm aloud to talk to them about.
I don't know why I feel so alone and disconnected,
or why I miss my pathetic excuse for a home,
or why I miss the very few good friends I have,
or
I wish for days of epic romances she told me. For days when the world makes sense again. When love is real and pure and honest and people don't remember that divorce once existed, much less tore most families apart. That's what she told me as I held her hand. Her smile was gentle and peaceful. My hands were shaking and she looked at me and told me to rest easy. Rest easy. Of all things for her to say.
"I was sixteen when it happened. She came into my room and told me dad was leaving. I looked her in the eyes with all the cold malice I could muster from my heart and I told her I knew. I had always known it was inevitable. He was having an af
Fated Love - Chapter 1 Revamp by Kykel, literature
Literature
Fated Love - Chapter 1 Revamp
I loved her more than life itself... But I could never tell her. Fate demanded that the truth would only hurt her. Fate demanded I die . And die I knew I would.
Chapter 1
"Hurry up, Jed." Sylvia shouted as she pranced up the steps to the main hall. "I don't want to be late for the ball." She let out a pouty huff before following with a tease. "You're always so slow." Jed stepped from the carriage with a frown and looked up at an impatient Sylvia.
"Yeah? Well, I didn't have to come. I could just as easily get back in the carriage and go home." He smirked mockingly as he taunted back. Yet, the s
Chapter 1 The Lost Colony
Fire erupted in the night. The drought had dried everything out but Esther knew this was not caused by normal causes. It was them again. The dark ones they had come to be called. They came out of nowhere, demons of the night as though conjured from the darkest nightmare. The colonists feared for their lives. Many had already left. Others feared to leave but among them even more now feared to stay. In the past fortnight nearly 2 dozen had disappeared. The search parties hadn't come back. Esther hugged George as she cried. It wouldn't be long now before the rest were gone.
This was supposed to be a new star
I miss the days,
when the rest of the world wasn't real,
and I could hear the whisper of the wood,
and feel the warmth of the stars.
The security of a hug.
Life was simple,
misunderstood only.
Lived,
but untrusted,
for we all know the pain,
of betrayed hope.
When each step,
each breath,
quakes the very earth...
because she's untouched,
before your whisper is chosen.
...
Growth is tantalizing,
when you see it on others,
from your safe little nest.
You taste only what you want,
take it for granted,
and cherish that you did.
In the end,
it's not the days,
that speed up,
but rather yo
Follow the scent to the Cask of the Fallen Prophet King.
Chapter 17
"A shower." Leon announced grinning from ear to ear. Seth froze. Had he been joking? A shower? He'd had to have misheard him. "And a change in wardrobe will be in order too. I cannot have one of my subordinates walking around with rags and a coat of dirt so thick one cannot see their skin." Seth looked up. There was definably a hint of mocking humor to his voic
There was a time when bliss was determined by a bus ride home,
the theme of my life played through earphones.
Or under the universe,
her sparkling freckles captivating me from the back of my mom's toolbox.
Even from 3 am in the morning,
swinging the world away at the park.
There was a time a time when happiness was determined by my choice,
not the hated word "if".
That was when I was free,
when I was me.
Before rules and regulations,
and having to ask for permission
Before growing up.
But I guess,
invevitability gets us all.
There are two roads,
always have been.
One is right and one is left,
both are dark and scary.
B
What can I write here now? Am I aloud to say how I truly feel about something? Where is the line drawn? I don't know.
I don't know where I am.
I don't know what I am.
I don't know why I am.
I don't know how I am.
I don't know where I want to be.
I don't know what I want to be.
I don't know what I want to do.
I don't know why I'm still here.
I don't what I'm aloud to do,
or say.
I don't know where I'm aloud to go,
or who I'm aloud to talk to,
or what I'm aloud to talk to them about.
I don't know why I feel so alone and disconnected,
or why I miss my pathetic excuse for a home,
or why I miss the very few good friends I have,
or
I wish for days of epic romances she told me. For days when the world makes sense again. When love is real and pure and honest and people don't remember that divorce once existed, much less tore most families apart. That's what she told me as I held her hand. Her smile was gentle and peaceful. My hands were shaking and she looked at me and told me to rest easy. Rest easy. Of all things for her to say.
"I was sixteen when it happened. She came into my room and told me dad was leaving. I looked her in the eyes with all the cold malice I could muster from my heart and I told her I knew. I had always known it was inevitable. He was having an af
There is nothing normal about me. My entire life I've searched for something that I know not what it is. Call it purpose. Call it religion. God. Peace. It makes no difference to me. The fact is that I've never been ok. There has and always will be a little piece of me that's broken inside. But that isn't even the point. I like that, want it even. Being ok hurts worse than being broken because I can at least understand pain. It drives and inspires me. It gives birth to ideas and concepts of reality that nothing else ever could. My life needs something to drive me. I do not serve myself well in happiness.
I learned long ago that I'm a dreamer but when you get what you want, you lose sight of what it meant. You have to keep reaching for something unattainable to get somewhere in life. Chase the clouds, the stars even. They'll only keep you on their tail. You'll never catch them. I hate being happy. Happiness breeds content acceptance. I fear it. It is instability to me. Change is immutable. Change is everything. Change is life. That which sits still does so because it is dead. I want to always want more, to never be happy with myself.
I do not know if I believe in purpose anymore. But I think that is the very point of it all. The idea that we are utterly alone, a fluke... It's lonely and it's scary. It is a secret that would end the world. But there is so much out there that makes me truly wonder. I have for so long found doubt in myself. But that is who I am. I find inspiration and I find drive in my doubts. It is those fears that fuel me. THEY are what give me my strength. Ask yourself, if you learned that there is nothing else out there, that we truly are alone what would you do? What is the purpose of it all? You live for no other reason than to live.
There are sides of me that nobody understands. And there are sides that only a few people do. I do not open up to most because I do not want to be understood. It is my way of being alone. It is all I have sacred to me. The only thing that makes me who I am, unique. I am different from everyone because of this and this alone.
I think everyone has a set of critical beliefs deep down that they don't share lightly. Even among those closest to us do we often feel strangers before these concepts. They are part of us. They define us and make each and every one of us unique. They are all we have sacred to ourselves. I do not know if I believe in peace. I do not know if I even believe in purpose anymore. The frailty of the base that holds all I once and all I do believe in does not surprise me. I believe in life and I believe in change. Change is immutable. Change is everything. Change is life. But change is also loss. It is sacrifice. It is the only universal truth I believe in. In the end, we know nothing.
Sometimes, intelligence is a burden.
Favourite Visual Artist
Monet
Favourite Movies
Tron: Legacy
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Apocalyptica, Linkin Park, Fireflight, or Jimmie Hendrix
Favourite Writers
Dan Brown or Christopher Paolini or Terry Goodkind
Favourite Games
Final Fantasy 7
Favourite Gaming Platform
RTS
Tools of the Trade
Imagination, for no law binds me.
Other Interests
Music and computers, art and literature. Philosophy, video games, writing, reading and drawing.
I want to runaway. Back to days of wishes, not nostalgia. Is that wrong, to want to be depressed and broken? To miss the pain. And does it make broken to want that, albeit in a different way?
You sir, have created magic this day. There really isn't a comment that can truly express the impact this story has had on me. And I'm sure this is going to surprise you a bit but I want to tell you a short story. Hope you don't mind.
Since I was about fourteen years old I've Known I wanted to be a writer. I've known so confidently that I saw everything in my life as just a stepping stone toward that future. I was gonna be a big shot, stand among my idles; Tolkein, Goodkind, Feist and George Martin. But as the senior year of high school dragged by I felt the fear of not knowing what I was going to do after graduation sink in. Where I came fr
Happy Birthday, Kykel. I've begun to write some really old stories from when I was in 7th Grade last year during the Fall, and am continuing to write a lot more as well as getting lots of new ideas. Exciting to see where all of this Creativity will end up in a series of novels and graphic novels.
Happy Birthday, Kykel. I've always enjoyed reading your stories. I've been drawing a lot of new Gargoyles OCs, and have begun to focus my attention on some serious rewrites of my tales. Talk to you soon, my friend. Cheers!
Believe it or not, yes. But, life has become busy these days. I find that nostalgia seems to be the only thing left that brings me back to this wonderful little hidden gem.
Dude, preaching to the choir. my writing has changed... i have new ideas for what i want to do. where i want my stories to go. but life is a bitch and setting up a lot of roadblocks on my own story of life. it sucks. :/