|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
AngerAnger is sly. It creeps up on you when you least expect it. One minute you’re perfectly fine, the next your bubbling over like a pan full of water on a stove. For me, it’s often when I have high stress levels. Anything can tip you over the edge, the slightest movement. It will be the pettiest issue but once I’m pushed that’s it … crash bang wallop. I want to hit everything in sight. I want to scream as loud as I can at the top of my voice. I want everyone to just go away. Then, that overwhelming feeling of anger subsides and left in its place is sadness. That’s the worst part. I don’t want to hurt other people and I know my anger is stupid. It’s at this point I cry. It’s strange how sometimes when I feel sad I can’t cry at all, I wish I could let everything out but the tears just don’t come. Yet, when I’m angry it’s like all my tension releases and left is everything that has been building up for weeks. It
Being an only childIt’s funny isn’t it. When I introduce myself I say “Hi my name is Sarah.” That’s it, that’s all you get. In order to really get to know me you have to become my friend. You have to earn the right to information about me. Yet, it’s commonly known that most people make up their mind about someone in the first few minutes of meeting them. What does that say about society? What does that say about you?
It’s only when people really get to know me that they find out that I’m an only child. It’s not that I hide the information. I just never feel the need to volunteer it. However, maybe the reason that I’m so shy when I meet you is because I don’t have sibling interaction. I don’t have to compete for attention or scream and shout. This perhaps has made me an introvert. I’m also prone to wanting periods of alone time and I enjoy talking to myself. Not in that weird she’s mental way. Just for company, somet
The Perks of Being a Psychology StudentPsychology is everywhere. It has been woven throughout human history; through war, through love, through life. When I reached that crucial stage in Year 13 of applying for University there was never any question what I was going to study. It was always going to be Psychology. A determination to understand humanity and a desire to help others drove me towards this goal and I haven’t looked back. Now as September approaches and my third year beckons I am filled with anticipation and excitement at what the year ahead holds.
As a fresh faced student the first day of University was overwhelming. I was in a strange place with unfamiliar people. The year ahead was daunting. Waking up for my first lecture was nerve-wracking but the lecture itself was thrilling. A door was thrown wide open and the possibilities were endless. I could learn about society, the brain or even ghosts. In a further bid to socialise I attended the Psychology film society to discuss my passion with like minded peo
MissingYou're the last piece of a jigsaw,
that just cannot be found.
You're the missing wire in a broken circuit,
that stops the light shining bright.
Not having you around,
leaves a whopping great big hole
But now you're back and here to stay,
no longer lost at all!
DeathI watch peacefully from the shadows waiting till the time is right. I see misery that prowls the streets and despair reign upon us. The night is dark and cold but my prey still walks along. Accompanying my victim is not happiness, love or faith. Instead it is loneliness. He was promised a life full of happiness and love but as it comes to the end he knows the truth. There was no such perfect world. It was never meant to be. Now as he approaches where I lurk so silently I tiptoe out of my hiding place and beckon him forward into a new better world where misery and despair are banished. Where sadness and loneliness are no longer welcomed. This world is empty. For I am death.
FacesThere's a woman walking along the street with a wide grin on her face. The world is fooled that she's happy but look closer, her eyes are red. She's been crying for hours and hurting inside. She's suffering a pain that no other human can understand. She's plastered a smile on her face because she knows the world will see what it wants to see. When she's smiling no one asks if she is ok or how she is feeling. It's like she becomes part of the scenery, invisible and unimportant.
Look there goes a man, his lips are tightly pursed and he walks with a purpose. You wouldn't know that he's shaking inside, suffering a crisis of confidence. He doesn't trust himself anymore since he almost lost everything, his kids, his house, his life. He might roar like a lion but he's as scared as a mouse. He puts on this face so that he can pretend everything is alright. When he does this he knows people won't notice that anything is wrong. They are all too busy dealing with their own precious lives.
AbuseIt wasn't love at first sight. At first he was my teacher and I truly loathed him. His name was Marcus. He'd always pick on me in class and so I thought the feeling was mutual but even then he was manipulating me. I was too blind to see it.
One day he asked me to stay behind after class. I thought it was to tell me off as usual but that's when everything changed. He wanted to start tutoring me as he felt I was a top student and therefore worth the effort. Every week we'd sit in the classroom learning and surprisingly I enjoyed it. I was enjoying his company too. I had very few friends and now that I was working so hard I rarely even spoke to them. I didn't feel isolated but I guess looking back, even then, I was a victim. Then one lesson out of the blue he stroked my face and told me he wished he could take care of me forever. That was it, I was hooked and I longed to be with him. The lessons in the classroom stopped after that and moved to his house and then to his bedroom.
DepressionDepression is a strange subject to talk about. Most people avoid it at all costs. Some jump straight to the biological explanations for it; it stems from a deficiency of the neurotransmitter noradrenaline in certain brain circuits or it's down to a mutant gene that starves the brain of serotonin. Others take the psychological point of view that depressed individuals acquired a negative schema during childhood making them biased towards negative interpretations of the world. These views seem rather cold hearted really. I mean when it comes down to it whatever the case may be depression is painful, it tears lives apart and so many people suffer. I have a lot of friends that are depressed; in fact so am I. More than anything I'm stressed and lonely. I don't see the point of living. It's the system that gets me down. Some think self harming is an option or suicide but that's letting the system win. You see my friend didn't beat the system. She died last night. She took her own life because
DarknessShe sits unmoving in the darkness as silent tears slowly roll down her face. Her slim figure is illuminated by the moonlight as it pools round her feet. She stares into the mirror and hates everything she sees, the gaunt face with no hint of a smile, the knotted hair, the baggy worn clothing. This is what the world must see she thinks. She cannot grasp that the world cannot see this but instead a bright and intelligent young woman with the prettiest looks and a sense of individuality. As she stares at that awful person looking back at her she wonders why she is alive and this is when she makes her decision. Who will care she thinks? I've cried and I've cried and I've cried but no one listens, no one helps. This is my final plea. I'm lost and there's no way of finding the right path. I have no purpose. She crosses to a cupboard and finds what she's looking for, a pair of sharp glistening scissors. They look menacing but it is hard to believe they could take a life. Yet this i
Don't Fall In Love With A Writer Just because they will bruise your neck with pearls of metaphors; and splash palettes of colours onto your chest with reckless waves and boundless twilight. They will smear ink onto your lips as you kiss them because that is how they leave hickeys. They are wildest in their 2 a.m. diary, and liveliest in book racks of novels; they have butterflies in every heartbeat and they breathe living poems. They leave trails in libraries and coffee shops like Hansel leaves crumbs in forest and they have undying lovers because every love story is ever living in their abyssal oceans of analogies and similes. They know every cliché like the sunset knows the moon rise, and every wound in their heart like blood in their veins. They are terrifying because they weave you in splinters of fires rolling down their cheeks. They are weird because they don't smile much but sometimes you could catch their smiles in poems or tales. They are psychotic b
The gentleman with the paper napkin rose!Lonely and heart broken,
I was that night.
I walked out of my hotel room,
right into the bar and into it's magical atmosphere,
beautiful belly dancers,
I sat down and got me a drink,
wanting to drawn,
all of my feelings,
my love, my life.
wanting to be cold,
not wanting to feel anything,
betrayal is a painful
thing to remember!
So I wanted the ability to forget,
since forgiving was much too soon
for my broken heart.
So intense was this pain,
many years later
I still carry it's scars.
and without looking I was at the distance,
welcomed by someone's interest...
There he was looking at me,
and for the longest time
I could not look away, I got hypnotize
by his Indian eyes...
From a paper napkin he made me a flower,
I thought of this detail for hours.
He walked to me and reached for my hands,
placing the object of his creation between my fingers.
He must have made this flowers a thousand times,
because as he did,
he never stopped looking at my eye
... and nobody cares.Can you see these empty eyes, screaming for help? No you can't.
Oh come on, you're not sick! I can't see it! Your answer was. You're thinking of me as a malingerer, don't try to tell me otherwise. You think I'm one of the comfortably sick to get through life easy.
Have you ever asked yourself why you (still) live? What is worth for living? When all problems hail down on you at once and you threaten to suffocate, seeing all your plans and dreams destroyed, you won't consider giving up, don't you?
Come get your ass up, lazy f*ck and get a job again, I once heard you yelling at me. Afterwards I'm asking myself – do you, so called friend, even know me at all? Do you know that the pressure of my past has crushed me into an unstable pile of mood swings, suicide thoughts and psychosomatic sickness? Probably not, because if you'd know me you wouldn't hurt me with your words.
But there are loads of therapists out there, don't whine into my ears any longer, go get your hea
everything is temporaryi have never been one to yell, it hurts my throat, or maybe i just lack the passion to get that mad at something. you always did bring out things that i never knew were inside though. we had matching bloodshot eyes, and the same fuck the world attitude running through our veins as if the world owed us something. it didn't then. but it does now. my blood is thick and burning and i want to try and flood it into yours to get the colour back into your cheeks that i just watched drain. i kicked the wall, and opened the window and screamed at the sky-scrappers and i don't know how the world can just keep fucking turning without so much a skipped rotation or a fucking stutter.
you turned small, minor things into giant fucking events that made my chest even tighter. a tickle in my throat, a spreading wildfire on the nape of my neck, a distinct lack of words or feelings to anything more than a lingering heaviness. i lost count of how many times i contemplated stepping in front of that car, bus,
My alter-egosYou see, I have these beings in my head I call alter-egos. They're parts of me that appear whenever I need them. They represent me, they come from the deepest side of my soul. It might seem crazy, but that's the best way I can describe them. They're very different from my other OCs (Vince, Renka, Alice, ete); they're very special to me. Sorry, I'm not good at explaining things myself...
Keiko: can I? Can I explain it? Pleeeeaseee?
Okay, go ahead.
Keiko: okay, we are special beings that live inside Sandra's mind. We were formed of her subconscious, so that makes us different of her other OCs she created herself. We're here to protect her, to make her feel better when she has her episodes of depression. Recently, she decided to make us public because we told her it was a good idea.
Now we will show a list of all the alter-egos Sandra has:
-Abyss (Gloomy Apocalypse): Demon
-Adelaida (No pony alias yet)
-Angel (Pulsar Majoris): Male version of Sandra
-Astrid (Star Lollipop): Birdwing
fellow adventurers and others who want to donti know its been a long time sense she commited suicide but i just recently found out about Amanda Todd the poor girl she just couldnt handle it anymore i wanted to say that it gets better i should know and today im gonna tell you my story
it was an ordanary day in the dew household yes dew as in mountain dew anyway i was deppresed tho that wasnt unusual for me knowing my past it was diffrent this time it was like my deppression was worse then ever i went into my brothers old room to look at pictures because hes at collage so i was missing him then i noticed his clouset was open now ya see he had a real sword in that clouset and i saw it i thought to myself i-its to much i cant handle it anymore i picked the sword up and almost drew it getting ready to drive it right through my 9 year old chest but then i thought to myself why am i doing this all its gonna do is make my family missrable and i dont
4 Dead ChordsI’m here, with the darkness embracing me, trying to sleep. My eyes, full of tears, want to sleep, listening to those things that makes me feel bad in the middle of the night, listening to my thoughts written by other mind, but are mine. I know the reason of the sad midnight, when the sky has closed the window and no one can see the spirits, walking lonely roads.
Maybe I took another wrong way, or the wrong way took me, with a beautiful smile and deep black eyes, asking me if I was truly happy all this time without Starlight; I wasn’t, those days were wasted moments in my life. There’s nothing to see inside a womb, where you are isolated and peaceful with yourself, thinking about the day you had.
I’m drowning in memories, and cry, the droplets that my lung has.
Come With Me~I snuck out somewhere last night. I do every night. I go to a wonderful place, somewhere no one knows.
You should come with~
I love it there. It has it's ups and downs- but it really is a nice place.
Better than you can image~
It changes almost every night. It can be really bright and fun, then the next night I have to run for my life.
Are you on your way?~
I can be pleasured- or in pain. I can be happy- or depressed. I can fear- or be feared. I can be trying to save everyone from a burning house- or be starting the fire.
It might hurt- and I can't say it'll get better~
It could be a really romantic night- or I could be getting ready for murder.
So lets go get ready~
Do you want to know where this place is?
You might regret it- but I know we'll have fun~
Are you sure you really want to know?
You can't run now~
I snuck out somewhere last night. I do every night.
You should come with~
You should come with me to Dream
Life and DeathIt seems funny to write about life and death. In a few weeks I will be turning 21 and I hope I have many happy and healthy years ahead of me. I would like to live them to the full. I would like to have children and grandchildren and to be survived by lots of family. Yet today I am sad, really sad. Someone I really cared about died. They weren’t a family member but they were close enough. I used to call her auntie. She played hide and seek with me when I was little. She was a lovely vibrant woman always interested in others. I saw her only a month ago. She looked old but I never thought that she was nearing the end of her life.
A few weeks ago my Mum and Grandma went out for lunch with her. She asked my Mum to e-mail her a copy of my dissertation. I was only too pleased to share it, happy that someone was showing an interest when they didn’t have to.
Saturday night my Grandma went round to her house for supper. She was fine and they enjoyed their time together as they always
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!