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Chapter PrologueDear Dreamer,
Sometimes I really wonder what it would feel like, to sleep for what feels like a thousand hours...to stop existing for moments at least...to put all the world on pause.
Sometimes I ask myself;
girl, is it true that dreams are mere wishes that get accomplished while asleep?
Is the dreamworld another world in another dimension, where we can have what we want?
could life be a nightmare in the dreamworld?
If I have always dreamt of love, wished for it, does it mean in the real world I shall not have it, because it belongs to the dreamworld, where only wishes come true?
Is is true,Dreamer, that when you cry in your dreams cuz of pain, it means you've awaken into the reality?
Is it true that sometimes reality and dreams get combined and you cannot escape into a better world?
Does it mean I am forever stuck in this?
Good night, Dreamer.
rant ?you probably wanna ignore this, I'm just writing to make myself more comfortable
Why does it hurt when people lose love
Why is it so important to them; chasing it, following it, and once they find it they won't let go even if it means death?
Why do the people keep saying they love you, and then end up going away?
Can someone really move on or is it just placing those little pieces of memories behind, trying to cover them with new pieces as fast as they can;
because they keep piercing the mind and hurting
Isn't love practically the reason that wars started between nations and clans before?
When a couple from different clans meet and want to continue their lifes together...
I miss the days when sleeping was my love
I miss the days when drinking tea had nothing to do with you
I miss when I used to draw only for myself without you
I miss the days when everything else could make smile
I miss t
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More