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EmpathyWhen someone is up, on top of the world,
It doesn't mean they've never lain lonely and curled.
Surely if that weren't a piece of them,
They would stop looking for each person's gem.
If they hadn't experienced pain near and far,
They wouldn't be quite the person they are.
And they wouldn't stop to wipe your tears
And they wouldn't care about all your fears.
Because empathy is not something you are born with
It is something you've earned.
HalvedMy blogger is filled with half-written posts, my mind is filled with half-written stories, my sketchbook is full of drawings half-assed and my room is a half cleaned flurry.
Wings Part EightMelissa went towards the area it had just come from. She began to hear the sound of rushing water. A few steps later and she was able to see what looked to be a mini waterfall. She started running. She was so excited that she had finally managed to find it!
When she looked around she didn’t see anybody. Disappointed, Melissa grabbed out her water bottle to fill it. She dipped it into the fresh spring and looked up at the sky. It seemed like there was a giant bird landing many feet away.
She closed her water bottle and took a sip. She closed her eyes and tried to figure out what to do next.
“Melissa?” called a voice not too far away.
Melissa looked up only to see what looked like a winged girl many feet away. “Becca?” She called out. The two of them ran towards each other.
“I’ve missed you so much!” Becca said.
“Why did you stop talking to me?” Melissa asked.
“I was growing my wings,” Becca replied, “I ran alm
Wings Part SevenShe wandered forward still. She didn’t have much else to do besides wander on. By midday her feet had started to ache. She found a tree to sit in and took out some food. She ate it slowly, savoring the flavors. She didn’t often savor her food. It was easier when one didn’t know when their next meal would be.
She lounged there for a while before dropping down and trudging on ahead.
She began to pass many, many trees. She was going into a very deep forest. The leaves almost covered up the entirety of the sky, blocking out most of the sunlight. It was beautiful. In a mile she stopped again and decided to set up a pseudo camp.
She gathered brush and pine needles together, putting the softer leaves on top. She made a bed out of it. She laid back and ate her packed dinner.
She found a fallen branch with the leaves still on it and brought it over to where her bed was. She would be using it as a blanket. She dug a hole in the ground and took out her book of matches, striking
Wings Part SixHer mom drove her home after everything had been figured out. She had a new appointment set for next week. Her mom told her she could spend the day at home. Melissa said nothing. She felt residual effects from whatever had happened to her.
Her mom dropped her off at home while she went off to get some allergy medications. The doctors thought Melissa had an allergic reaction to the gas. Melissa knew differently. No. The trouble was not an allergy. The trouble was that they wanted to take away a part of her. The knobs were important.
She didn’t know why or how, but she knew they were.
She looked around her room after she had climbed up the stairs. It was clean. Organized. Normal.
She didn’t want it anymore. She didn’t want any of this anymore. She wanted freedom. She wanted to be whomever she was now, whatever that looked like.
She spotted her backpack on top of the bed. It was open, papers strewn from the zipper. She emptied it and began packing. She packed things that
Wings Part FiveIt was now Wednesday morning. They wanted to put her in for surgery that upcoming Monday. She didn’t know if she was ready. She had become fond of the growths. She decided to continue without the hoodie for the rest of the week for the sake of it being the last days with her knobs.
People would find it strange if they asked her why she wasn’t ashamed or scared of them, but she didn’t care. It’s not like she had a whole lot of school friends anyways.
Her best friend had stopped talking to her this year anyways.
Her other “friends” rarely talked to her, too. It was as though she had an invisible disease. Sure, she had become quieter, but why was that a problem? It shouldn’t have been. Real friends don’t abandon others for being quiet. For missing school. For losing other friends.
Melissa tried not to cry as she got ready for school. She wanted to transfer, but she knew if she told her mom this, she would suspect it was because of the bumps.
Wings Part FourShe spent the rest of that night working on making the wings as gentle and attractive as she had imagined in her mind.
After she finished, she changed into her pajamas, opened the window, and tucked herself deep within her quilt for sleep.
She was small, standing next to the flower. She was about twice the size, making her about a foot tall. Her hair had turned a bright blonde color and her eyes and dark green. Her wings were half the size of her body. They were beautiful and they were delicate. They resembled the fairy that she had drawn not more than an hour before, except she was in color.
The wings were a soft yellow with black dots and orange rims. They were thinner and more defined than that of a butterfly. And they were great for flying.
She effortlessly lifted herself into the air, fluttering her wings about. Little sparkles drifted down with every wing flap, there seemed to be no end to it. It was so pretty, being able to see those sparkled in the light of day.
She found herse
Wings Part ThreeHer alarm chose that moment to go off. She covered her ears and moved towards the alarm, shutting it off with her elbow. Her back felt really weird. The bumps had grown. They stuck out an inch and a half from her shoulder blades. They were hard and firm. It was as though she was growing an extra pair of arms from her back.
She groaned and sat on her bed, her head in her hands. Half an hour later her mom knocked on her door. “We don’t want to be late for your appointment,” she said, “Come down and grab some breakfast!”
Melissa removed her hands from her head, she felt a little better. “Coming.”
She changed into her favorite pair of jeans and threw a tank top on under her enormous hoodie. She didn’t want people in the waiting room to think she was a freak. She wandered downstairs to find that her mom had made homemade blueberry pancakes. She must have remembered how much Melissa hated doctor’s visits.
Melissa scarfed down the pancakes
Wings Part TwoMelissa made sure to open her window tonight. She hoped there wouldn’t be any large breezes this time. Or if there was, that it would yet again save her from hawk talons.
She snuggled under the blankets and closed her eyes. She was soon asleep.
It was raining. The droplets were hitting her feathers with a lot more force than if it were just sprinkling. No, this was a storm. She was in the air. Her bill made it hard to see down and in front. She tried to ignore it. She was looking for somewhere to land but all she could see was churning water.
She was over some kind of body of water. An ocean? It seemed to be much too large for a lake.
Little crests of white peaked the tips of waves. It would be beautiful if it weren’t so threatening. The noise was deafening, terrifying.
Luckily for the duck, its feathers were coated in a natural oil, making it so the water didn’t soak into the downy softness hidden underneath. She was glad she had remembered to preen. If she hadn
How to be Populardon’t talk
go to parties
listen to friends
go with the flow
drink some more
don’t let them see the tears
as you cry yourself to sleep
for the most important thing
is to be popular
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
The sound of silenceThe sound of silence,
Is so deafening,
That it makes my ears ring,
With the cacophony of my own insanity.
Ideationlocked in a room
with only one escape,
or so it seems.
your hands shake and you drop the key.
Suddenly you're unsure.
Do I want to pick it up?
Do I want to find it?
Do I want to leave?
you think to yourself
there's no other choice.
find the key or corrode, or rust
wear down the hinge
use sadness as the key.
You have the answer now.
Just open the door.
Just walk outside and don't look back.
Let yourself leave with no regrets.
And yet you can't.
You're afraid, you think,
but you are actually strong.
Don't run away.
Don't take that leap.
DNAyou are content
because every day
you have the opportunity to
hug both sets of your DNA.
however, i am not content.
half of me is missing
and the other half
is hardly ever here.
I never asked to be aliveThere you went to give me life
And said it was a gift of course
But this gift is a little rough
Okay, to be honest, it's a curse
I was the one that you bestowed this upon
Myself and nobody else
Never did you once seem to think
How this might affect me
Asked by myself every morning
Why it is I'm here today
To only be answered by my thoughts
That you gave me the gift, why should I take it away?
Be a good sport and accept it
Use it in every which way
Alive and well is the goal
But you only gave me the life
Red Riding HoodI want to believe people so badly when they say they won’t bite
that I contemplate climbing into their smiling jaws
thinking that it might be better to be split in two than left hanging.
But always, I draw my red hood and flit back into the forest
running in the shadows of pathways, never stepping into clearings
because I’ve spent my whole life in the wilderness
and I still can’t tell the wolves from the woodsmen.
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More