|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Human Labeler "Oh my God she's so fat!"
"Look at her hair!"
"God does what the fuck is she wearing?"
That's all that's said nowadays.
Guidelines that the world must follow.
Where do we draw the line?
When will we stop labeling those who are different
and not in our clique?
The labels that we give others,
may hurt them more than you think.
Be the ArtistWith colors we paint the world.
With pencils we write the story.
With pens we sketch the imagination.
Imagine beyond your neighborhood.
Imagine beyond your country.
Imagine beyond your world.
Paint the sky purple,
draw rainbow birds flying through the sky.
Color the grass orange,
water it with flames.
Do anything, nothing, or everything.
Create. Destroy. Discover.
Change the world,
one piece of artwork at a time.
Pill Popped LoveLily
"I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up." I repeated to myself over and over.
My whole body was shaking.
I just now realized what I had done.
Ended my life.
Not yet actually but give me ten more minutes and I'll be dead.
Funny how the world will label me one last time, the final time.
I wonder how long it will take for people to find me, find me lifeless.
Find me Dead. Dead. Dead.
It's starting to sink in.
I'll be gone forever. Dead. Dead. Dead.
No Heaven or Hell for me to enter.
I don't believe in any of that shit anyway.
If there was a God he would've helped me, stopped me.
He wouldn't have let me die.
Seven minutes left.
I wish I had said goodbye to everyone.
It is the least they deserve.
"But would they even care.
No. Not my parents. Not my friends. Not anyone. Not even-"
-I would care.
How did he find me?
I sped off from school, went to my house, grabbed the pills, and drove directly to bridge.
I wasn't going to jump, I just want to see the world one last time befo
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
Keep in Touch!