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message 1: by [deleted user] (new)

Post your writing here! :D


message 2: by Grouphug (new)

Grouphug | 22 comments ‘What you got there Dylan?’
‘Baby’
‘Who’s?’
‘Mine’
‘Yours?’
‘Yeah’
‘What you doing with it?’
‘Holding him’
‘Oh him, is it?’
‘Yes’
‘Yours?’
‘Yup’
‘What you doing with him?’
‘Holding him, you only can. What else are babies for?’
‘Growing into adults and drinking coffee. And he’s yours?’
‘I said, didn’t I? Wouldn’t have bloody nicked him as well. Jesus, what would I want a flaming baby for? You take him. I need a drink’
‘Me? But-‘
‘Hold him’
‘I weren’t going to drop him. What’s his name?’
‘Don’t know. Probably something daft’


message 3: by Maria (new)

Maria  (mars_bars97) ok....


ℂᖺαᖇᒪἷ℮ ⊰1017 &Tardis⊱ (charlie_awesome) | 103 comments Mod
I liked it... it's original


message 5: by Maria (new)

Maria  (mars_bars97) yeah no i didnt get it! its not that i didnt like it!


message 6: by Mirvan. (new)

Mirvan. Ereon (mirvanereon) | 61 comments weird story but well... we all have our won minds but it should have been way longer and i have read something similar already before..


message 7: by [deleted user] (new)

Intresting ... a bit funny, reminds me of a joke, I like it!


message 8: by Vixen (new)

Vixen  | 66 comments Quicksand.
I'm walking and I think everything is going fine. I just walk on. But then, one thing goes wrong. And then another. And another. I try to fight back, but the harder I try, the deeper I sink. Until finally, I can't move...I can't breathe...Because Im in over my head.

Quicksand.
One minute I'm walking on solid ground, head up, nose in the air, breathing easy and flying high. Way up high. Steps as cool as the ocean breeze, I just walk on. But the next minute, that next step, I falter. I stumble. I fall. I'm sinking in a hole. Suffocating by millions of tiny rocks and crystals. Grains of sand.

Quicksand.
I fight and fight, trying to swim up through the downward current of the sand. But the more I struggle, the more I resist, the deeper I sink into oblivion. I'm falling deeper and faster now; trying to bring myself back up to solid ground, trying to keep my head above water. Above the sand. I can't afford to drown, to be swayed by the current, to sink. Let's face it, it's not my style.

Quicksand.
It renders you helpless. You realize you have no control. You never did. You realize you weren't on top. You never were. You thought you were set. My life isn't set. No choice but to accept it. Accept the loss of control. accept the loss. The loss. The loss. Losing. I've lost? Accept that i'm not in charge? No way! Fear strikes. Quick as a snake, it slithers into my head. I'm not independent. I really can't do this on my own. But the thought of relying on someone else...impossible! It's not me. It's never been me. It can never be me. It will never be me. But--But what about...I'm drowning.

Quicksand.
I reach for...something, anything to grab hold of. It has to be solid though. Always solid. I find a vine. No good. Vines break, not solid enough. I manage my way to the edge of solid ground, grab on, hold tight. No good. It crumbles to pieces. New additions to the sand. My world is crumbling to pieces, shattering like glass. Fragments everywhere, lost in the grains. As scary as it is, I give up for a second, stop. I have to. but I never stop. But i'm helpless. But I never need help! But...I'm helpless. The more I struggle, the faster i'm going to sink. So, I sit. I sit and wait and think. I must rely on outside help now. Rely on. Depend on. But to depend on someone is to trust them. To shoulder the burden and trust them... With your life.

Quicksand.
I have to sit. So I sit. i sit and wait. And I don't know what's worse: realizing that I'm about to die, or allowing the tiniest bit of hope that I won't. Because the latter means trust. And I think that--I think maybe, maybe I would rather die. I know I can't allow myself to hope. I've learned not to, if life has taught me anything worthwhile...From hope stems disappointment.
The two go hand in hand, always in that order.

Quicksand.
If you have hope, you have disappointment. Always, always. It's the law of this world. So I can't hope. You know that. I know that. I can't sit and wait. It's the hardest thing to do, hoping someone will come. Hoping they'll save me. Wishing they won't. Thinking I can save myself, but waiting for them all the same. With hope comes disappointment. But before that, before the disappointment comes, there is fear. Can they come? Will they? Will they save me? Can they? And what if they can't? But the more frightening question:
What if they wont?

Quicksand.
Oh Goddess, I can't do this. I'm truly on my own. I always have been. I don't want your help! I don't 'need' it. i can not trust you! It is I, and I alone who can do this. Me against the world. It's the only way not to get burned. And yet....
I have no choice but to sit.

Quicksand.
To sit and...to trust? Another question, another thought. Am I incapable of trusting someone, anyone at all? Is it that I won't? Or that I can't? What do I fear more? That I wont or that I really can't?
"Won't" is okay. I can do "won't". "Wont" is do-able. "Won't" means choosing. I choose not to trust you. I have that choice. But "can't"? "Can't" means that I don't get to choose. I have no choice. it's impossible. And if I have no choice, I have no control. And if I have no control, then what do I have? What am I left with?
Fear...

Quicksand.
I can't trust. But without trust, there is no hope.
So i can't hope. But without hope, you are alone.
So I'm alone. But if you are alone, you sink.
So I sink. But if you sink, you drown. "So I drown..."

Quicksand.
Eternally doomed to make one mistake after another. I'm in over my head. My fate is sealed. Sealed by what...?

Quicksand.
Paranoid? No more than I need to be. Trust is just a five letter word, one that comes before "not".

Quicksand. It does things to you, doesn't it? Get’s inside your head and fucks with you a little bit. That stupid quicksand.

(imagine this next line being said by a different person who was listening to the rant the whole time))
"Quicksand? Oh is that what they’re calling it these days? I've always known it as fear."

so yeah. im not a writer, not good at it, and usually dont like it. but i kinda had adream or i guess nightmare about this thing, and ended up writing about it. hope its okay


ℂᖺαᖇᒪἷ℮ ⊰1017 &Tardis⊱ (charlie_awesome) | 103 comments Mod
You are a really good writer!


message 10: by Vixen (new)

Vixen  | 66 comments Really? Thank you. It's the only thing ive actually ever written. I guess its sort of more like a monologue even though im not into theatre lol


ℂᖺαᖇᒪἷ℮ ⊰1017 &Tardis⊱ (charlie_awesome) | 103 comments Mod
It's vey good, you should write more


message 12: by Vixen (new)

Vixen  | 66 comments hmm i'll try. i dont think i can force it though cuz honestly i never like writing. only reading. I just happened to have a dream about this and decided to extend it a bit. But thank you for the compliments!


ℂᖺαᖇᒪἷ℮ ⊰1017 &Tardis⊱ (charlie_awesome) | 103 comments Mod
If you get inspired- write, your good at it, and it's no prob


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