Writing Excersises

[Cheyenne, Impressive, Star Fox]

I always feel similarly about myself. As in, am I just someone who follows everyone else? Or an individual?
I think the inner controversy is great; we all argue with ourselves from time to time.
Or at least I do.

[E.J.]

I was actually feeling that recently and it was just...
ugh...
just awful.

[Marlene]

Sounds aweful too. Reading that almost made me depressed myself - which speaks for your writing, but not really for your mood, I guess. I can relate, though, because that's what I felt like too. I could just never express myself like that.

[Cheyenne, Impressive, Star Fox]

I hope you realize, EJ (and you too, Marisa) you guys are both definitely your own person no matter what your inner-demon tries to tell you otherwise. It's really hard, you know, when you get depressed and you feel worthless.
I recently had a cloud hanging over my head and I felt totally alone. But I wasn't. Nobody is ever alone.
So if you guys ever need to just, like, talk, feel free to private message me on here.

[E.J.]

Thanks.
I don't think I'm depressed...
just a little wide-eyed at the truth that I've been seeing recently. :)

[Beck (formerly Boo)]

I want to hug everyone here. But I'm afraid my depression will teansfer through to you. BLAH.

[the sound of Autumn, Oh dear.]

Hug away my dear clone, I shall spread my cheery warmth through embrace. Like a boss. ^-^

And remember, if you ever need anybody to talk to, I'm always here, okay?

[Beck (formerly Boo)]

kayu!!
We should have a new writing excercise. (I HAVE ONE!!! :a time you went too far)

[the sound of Autumn, Oh dear.]

Alrighty then! New writing exercise: A time you took things too far.

It can be a personal experience of your own, someone else's, or a completely fictional person!

[Beck (formerly Boo)]

OH GOODIES!
(can it be... deatailed in the gore?)

[the sound of Autumn, Oh dear.]

Uh, yeah, sure! Just nothing too vulgar, you know? Like, the raping of dead corpses would probably not be smiled upon.

[Beck (formerly Boo)]

Lol no I'm doing a real event.

[Beck (formerly Boo)]

A time you took things too far.

I gritted my teeth. Stupid people. Stupid school. Stupid emotions. Stupid homework. Stupid life. Supid everything. The razor the pink. I picked it up, standing in the shower. I looked at my feet, then back at the razor, then back at my wrist. A few scars were littered here and there, but nothing bleeding actively. I glanced around once more, feeling adrenaline spike through me as I slashed the shaving tool sideways across the top of my wrist quickly. It drew blood after a bit of forceful struggling and I let loose a relieved smile. It worked. Sometimes, like with my dull pocket knife, it takes a lot of effort and the result is usually a sloppy, bloody mess. I shook my head. Back to now. I turned on the shower, letting the ice-cold water run over me as I brought back the pink razor once more. This time I pressed hard into my wrist. Not just for a little nick, either. I wanted to do something right. This was it. I would bleed properly this time. I put a little more preassure and felt the multiple blades transform the smooth, tan skin of my wrist into scarlet gills. I drew back, shaking, and looked at my arm. My smile turned into an amused slack-jawed face. I fumbled the top back on and put the razor back where it came from. I felt the urge to throw it against the wall, and to smash it. I waited for the plateletts in my blood to clot up in the wound, slow the bleeding. It was taking longer than usual. I put mouth on my cut and licked it, feeling like a cat as I licked the blood off, wincing as the burning, stinging sensation shot up my arm. I stopped after a moment, and shrugged it off, went on with shampooing. I opened my eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. I felt a sudden tickling sensation on my arm, all the way near my elbow. My head whipped toward it. A track of cherry red liquid had trailed down my arm. I licked it all off my arm, alarm bubbling up inside me like a balloon in a barred cage. Panic finally pushed its way through and I laughed. Tipped my head back into the water and laughed. I could taste the coppery, cliche metallic taste of blood, staining my tounge and lips like the juice of a strawberry. I studied my battle-worn skin for a moment and went on to conditioner, guessing it was fine now. I loved the smell, closed my eyes and scrubbed it into my hair, which was now black die to its waterlogged state. I opened my eyes and jumped at the small pink rivers instead of clear water at the bottom of the tub, circling towards the drain. My DNA, my blood, literally in the sewers. Well, not all of it was mine, considering all the IV's from my surgeries. I felt a small blooming of guilt at the wasted blood, but I never asked to be operated on. I laughed again, but it ended with my usual insane mumblings as I looked at my wrist again. Forked streams of beautiful scarlet were flowing thickly from my wrist. How deep had I gone? I shook of rather disturbing thoughts and started licking it all up. I felt a deep worry permeating through me. I hadn't hit a vein, had I? No. I guessed as much, but there were still a bit of nagging doubts that are always whispering on one shoulder. I rinsed off my arm. The pain was becoming neuteral. I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. I got my green towel out of a closet and pressed it to my wrist. I didn't regret it. I still don't. I just hoped nobody would find out, that it would stop bleeding.
I had gone too far.

[E.J.]

This is bullcrap. I literally JUST did this and possibly lost three friends. I don't know if I want to write about loss right now!

[Cheyenne, Impressive, Star Fox]

What makes you a Poseur?

I need to write right now, without judgement.
I've come to realize over the past couple days, that I'm just not perfect. I know. A-Ha moment, right? Because I don't know who in the hell told me I had to be.
But I'm not! I think I'm the least perfect person in this entire screwed up universe! I can't live without music, I lie all the time, and I'm a slave to myself. I'm superficial. Insecure.

I'm a HUGE poseur.

And you know what?! I love it. It's me.

Seriously. I'm so done beating myself up for little mistakes. I'm done pretending to be like something for someone else. I'm done 'simmering down' just to appear normal. I'm not normal. I'm a freak! A weirdo! I'm possibly insane!

But if being insane means that I make the choices that are true to Cheyla, that make ME happy, then I don't care if I'm sent to a loony bin.

I'm done pretending! You know who I am? I'm a POSEUR!

[[deleted user]]

EJ, Zombie, Ugly wrote: "This is bullcrap. I literally JUST did this and possibly lost three friends. I don't know if I want to write about loss right now!"

EJ... need me, then PM me or skype me, okay?

[Beck (formerly Boo)]

Cheyla wrote: "What makes you a Poseur?

I need to write right now, without judgement.
I've come to realize over the past couple days, that I'm just not perfect. I know. A-Ha moment, right? Because I don't know w..."

I'm a bit puzzled what to do.

[Beck (formerly Boo)]

I FINISHED MINE! (The one about the toofar.)

[E.J.]

I'm good now.
I'm all good...

What Makes Me a Poseur

I'm a poseur.

Why am I poseur? How am I one?

Let me tell you this in a simple way. A tiny story.

Around my friends, i have the persona of not caring what happens, but recently that poseur is breaking down with anything that happens.
After having to skip class to finish a project, I felt bad and kept looking at the clock.
My friend told me to "stop being so god damned scared."
I wasn't really scared.
I was more thoughtful of the consequences than he was. I thought of being yelled at and being told how disappointed the person was in me.
I wasn't scared but worried, and I let him believe it.
I was also thoughtful of what had happened to me recently.
By sending a single text, I might've lost three friends.
Oh how dreadful, and the worst part?
I have no one to share this with in my real life since I'd hate to spread drama around like butter on a bun. They also didn't need to know.

Anywhore, this isn't the first time he's said something like this.

I'm beginning to get sick of it.

I'm not scared of what will happen.
I'm just mindful of the consequences and don't need them at this moment in time.
But I let them all believe what they want because my mind must be constipated for it can't seem to give a shit.

So I'm a poseur because I keep my thoughts to myself.
If I let them be known or let out,
I get judged. Intensely.
By everyone.

BTW, just so you know how much you should judge me.
Go to Youtube and look up Identity Theft With a Twist.
I'm the guy in blue and black hoodie.
There is a sequel coming soon.
I blow up twice and make a garbage angel.

[the sound of Autumn, Oh dear.]

Well, for one, I think you're right to not care about what others think of you. But if these people are really your friends, you should be able to talk to them about how you don't appreciate it when they call you afraid. Explain your side of the story, exactly what you just told us- you're not afraid, you're just thoughtful of the consequences. If it really bothers you, then you need to express that.

I'm really sorry about the drama that you have to deal with though. Drama is such bullshit, I just hate it. It's understandable that you want to keep tat sort of thing to a minimum, which is something not a lot of people can do. I can name about twenty people off the top of my head who would make a whole big stink about everything, just to get attention.

Oh, and YOU SAY "Anywhore" ?! My friends and I have been saying that forever!

The video looks awesome too. I mean, I can't hear it, since my compooper is on safe-mode, but watching it made my day. :D I was like, "OH LOOK, THERE'S EJ! Heh, heh... what a dork. Heh." ^-^ (By the way, "dork" is a term of endearment for me.)

[E.J.]

I try to stay out of drama as much as possible.
This time, it didn't work.

YES I DO! :D
I get judged for it, but it's too ingrained for me to care! :D

YAY!
My face was covered in trash.

[[deleted user]]

EJ. You have to stop being so fabulous. Why do you have to be so amazing all the time?

[E.J.]

._.
I'm not amazing all the time.
I try to be a good person but it blows up sometimes.

I'm fabulous in the way that I can still look awesome when covered in trash though.
The sequel involves a dumpster getting blown up with me inside it. :P
And a helicopter crashing into me.
And a girl getting blown up...
then crushed with a boulder.
And my GIANT WATERMELON RACK knocking over a can.

[▕ ▋ ♛ ▍Marisa]

What makes me a Poseur?

Me. I myself am a poser. What is me? Me is the objective form of I. What is I? A pronoun to describe one's self. What is a pronoun? A word put in place of a noun.

A pronoun is a poser. It pretends to be a noun, and it takes it's place.

"I" is a pronoun. "I" is me. and I am a poser.

Just like that little pronoun, I pretend to be what I'm not.

I pretend to be confident when I am just a scared little child.
I pretend it was all a joke so he can't tell I'm hurt by his rejection.
I pretend I hated her because I would rather see her hate me than watch her suffer at my hands.
I pretend to be happy when all I can do is cry.
I pretend to be closed off and introverted when all I want is a friend.
And I pretend to be outgoing and carefree when in reality, I am thinking of the best way I can keep up my charade.

Our speech is filled with pronouns when we refer to ourselves. Pronouns are posers. Therefore, so are we.

Marisa is a poser because Marisa pretends to be something that Marisa is not. What Marisa pretends to be a different girl.

Sometimes a girl who is happy and cheery and never wants violence.

Other times the girl is closed off and independent. All the girl wants is to be left alone.

And then the girl who is dark and creepy but still fun and happy. This girl accepts her flaws and cares about life.

Marisa may be any of these. Marisa may be all or Marisa might be just one. All Marisa knows is that Marisa is a Marisa.

And Marisa is a liar.

And that makes her so much happier.

[Cheyenne, Impressive, Star Fox]

Marisa, words cannot describe how much I love what you just wrote.

[█║ ✕ Angel ‟]

I loved it!

[▕ ▋ ♛ ▍Marisa]

Psssh ^/////^ Thanks guys!

[Jasmine]

Why I am a poseur?

I am a poseur because I am not myself around my friends. My family. My parents. Even my best friends.

But mostly I am a poseur in my own. Maybe that confuses you but I mean it as saying I don't even know myself. I don't know when I am myself because I've been someone I'm not for far to long.

I looked up the word poseur to get its full meaning. My dictionary said this: poseur-a person who assumes attitudes or manners merely for their effect upon others.

Think about that for a minute. Just think.

I am a poseur because I act shy, quiet, nice, sweet in front of my family and friends. When in reality in pretty sure I'm just a bitch.

I act slightly crazy, fun, dramatic, weird and just sometimes plain sad to my best friends. I am none of these.

So what am I you might ask. Will the simplest answer is I am a poseur.

I can be whatever you wish me to be. There are few who have ever wants me to be just me. Whatever that is.

Not even a few, maybe one and even they don't know half my story. I am a sad story. But that's because I wish to be one.

I am a poseur because I am no one.