What is Writing?Writing.
What is writing? To be perfectly honest here, I'm pretty sure there isn't, and never will be, a correct definition for this word. For some, writing is breathtaking and stupendous, for others it can be horrifying, blood curdling, well, at least to an extent. For me? I like to think of it as expression, as you, as me, as a manipulation as everything.
'Why?' You probably ask inquisitively, with a fair amount of confusion on your face.
Well child, I'll tell you why.
Writing it's my passion. No doubt about it. If I'm sorrowful, I write. If I'm furious, I write. And yes, you guessed it. If I'm as jubilant as a child licking an ice cream cone I write. Those feelings, sorrow, furiousness, jubilance, they all show through my writing. You can tell by the words I use, the things I force my character to do, the scenes I create. In fact, I find it quite funny when I look at all the characters I've ever made. Every single character is some type of variation of me. Everythi
Moist.For deviantART's 12th birthday, the staff decided to throw a moist surprise party for Fella. They gathered at Fella's favorite restaurant, The Fancy Albino Monkey, with presents in hand. Llama brought Fella to the door and once they stepped in, all of the staff screamed, "Crickets!" Fella was so shocked that he instantly kissed me. He opened his presents to find that Llama had given him 12 farts. He was amazed! He would never forget that night.
The Best Spitter in World HistoryOnce upon a time, there was a young boy named Jimbo who always dreamed of becoming the world's best Spitter. He trained every day for 603949 hours in order to beat his rival, The Goopy Menace. The day of the big competition arrived, and Jimbo came armed with a sheet and his unstoppable determination. They were pitted against each other in a battle of wits, and Jimbo emerged as the sniff victor! His achievement is celebrated every Chanukah.
Casey's InspirationA young woman named Casey loved making art, and practiced Sketching all day long to become the very best in all her town. But one day, she was completely stumped. She looked around her room, full of art pieces featuring mystical Books, sci-fi landscapes of a futuristic New York, and a portrait of Josh Hutcherson that looked so real, you could start a conversation with it. But nothing inspired her. Had she really created everything there was to create? Depressed, she looked out her window, and made a wish on a nearby Chocolate for inspiration to return to her. The next morning, she sprung out of bed, and used her skill in Sketching to create the most beautiful deviation depicting cellphones flopping anyone had ever seen. That night, she shouted out the window, "Thanks, Chocolate!"
Glyph and Kyrie Part 7"I have a feeling your parents would want you home for dinner."
I shrugged, gazing at a brownie in my hand curiously. "Eh. I don't think so. Probably tired of me anyways. But you know, what the hell? It's not like I really have the room for anything over there anyways. By the way, remind me why you made brownies?"
"A thank you."
"Um Ky, what could you possibly be thanking me for ?"
"For being my friend I guess."
I raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "Ky you're too nice. We've known each other since five years old. Definitely not necessary, even though these are really good. My parents don't let me eat sweets anymore."
"I dunno. They think I'll get fat or something. I guess. They don't think it's good or something. If I get fat or ugly, that reflects on them. Which reminds me. You're right, I should be going. Gotta go run a few miles, just in case I gain weight from all of these brownies."
"Right. I was going to say you run every day
Glyph and Kyrie Part 5"You look cold," I observed as Kyrie bent down to pet Ozzy who wagged his tail happily. For a second she didn't hear me, too consumed with Ozzy's incessant nudging and need for attention. After a few moments, she took in what I said, and looked up at me.
"This isn't the first time," she replied. "But I'm fine."
I unhooked Ozzy's leash, letting him run free around us, and we began to walk across the park. "So. Why did you want to meet me here? Why'd you call?"
"No reason," she answered simply. "I just wanted to see you."
I raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly and shaking my head. "Ky we saw each other yesterday."
She nervously brushed her fingers through her bangs that covered her forehead and swallowed hard. "I don't think it's unusual at all to want to see my best friend and his dog."
I knew something was up, she was excruciatingly horrible at telling lies. I decided pressing her wouldn't help. "Oh, alright. Well for lack of any other conversation how's life?"
She grinned. "Busy,
Glyph and Kyrie Part 3You're so damn stupid, I thought, laying back against my king size bed. You always make things worse. You say and do the wrong things, and you hurt the only person who genuinely cares about you.
I always upset Kyrie, I always said something I shouldn't have, I always disappointed her. And to me that was the worst feeling you could have.
I clenched my teeth together, hiding my head in my hands. I always told myself, you can change. You can stop drinking, you can stop smoking, and you can stop getting arrested.
But it was always a lie. Not only to Kyrie, but to myself. I just couldn't, I couldn't change.
I took out the box of cigarettes, staring at it glumly.
Suddenly my sadness filled with anger, and I chucked it at the wall as hard as I could. The box hit the tan wall, breaking open, all of the cigarettes flying across my large bedroom.
I collapsed into the fluffy mattress, groaning in despair. Why? Why do I have to screw up my life?
After a few
Glyph and Kyrie Part 1"Mom," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "It was nothing."
My mother placed her hands on her hips, glaring at me. "Aloysius Zachariah Smith, you listen to me right now. What you did was unacceptable."
I leaned on the table in exhaustion, closing my eyes and sighing. "What are you going to do?" I asked sarcastically. I opened my eyes, gazing up at her with a smirk. "What are you going to do? Are you going to do; send me away? Are you going to take away my cellphone? Make me get a job? Or are you going to ban me from using my car? What are you going to do?"
I could see hesitation clearly in her grey eyes, trying to make a decision. She swallowed hard, straightening her back, waving her blonde hair out of her face. "No, you know I wouldn't do any of those things but Aloysius, your father and I we only want what's best for you. Are you really going to waste all of our efforts, are you really going to wash them all down the drain? Maybe next time, maybe next time you're