Wastelands of the Mind
- Reads 283
- Votes 31
- Parts 28
MatureOngoing4h 16m
Last published Sun, May 7, 2017
Imagine a post-love society. You don't move in together or get married. You cohabitate. You don't say "I love you," as if to reassure each other that nothing has changed since the last time you said it. You don't have to say anything. You don't have to open yourselves up and be vulnerable and be sensitive to one others' feelings. You cook for each other and drive each other places and fuck each other because you like the feeling of it. Of not being alone.
-from Radio Edit
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ð° ð ð ð ð ð
ᎠɎ áŽ áŽ Ê áŽ ; áŽáŽÊÊÊ áŽÉŽ áŽáŽ áŽÉŽ ᎡÊáŽÉŽ ɪᎠÊáŽÊáŽê±. ÊÊɪáŽÊÊᎠáŽáŽÊáŽÊÊáŽê±. ê°áŽáŽÉªÊÊ, ê±áŽáŽáŽáŽÊɪɎɢ áŽáŽ áŽÊÊáŽÉŽáŽ ÊáŽáŽÊÉŽê± ê°áŽÊ, áŽÊᎠáŽáŽÊáŽÊÊáŽê± ᎡáŽÊᎠáŽÉŽáŽáŽ ᎠáŽáŽáŽáŽÊáŽáŽáŽ ê°áŽáŽÉªÊ, áŽÉŽáŽÉªÊ áŽÊᎠᎠɪê±áŽáŽáŽáŽÊáŽÉŽáŽáŽ áŽê° áŽÊáŽÉªÊ áŽÉŽÊÊ áŽ áŽáŽÉ¢ÊáŽáŽÊ. áŽÉŽáŽÉªÊ ÉŽáŽáŽ¡, áŽÊáŽÊ'Ꭰê°ÉªÉŽáŽÊÊÊ ê°áŽáŽÉŽáŽ ÊáŽÊ. áŽÊáŽÊ'ᎠáŽxáŽáŽáŽáŽáŽáŽ ÊáŽÊ ÊáŽáŽáŽÊÉŽ áŽáŽ ÊᎠáŽÊáŽÉªÊ ÊáŽáŽáŽÊ áŽÉŽáŽ ɪɎɢ? ÉŽáŽ, áŽáŽáŽê±áŽ áŽÊᎠáŽáŽáŽÊÉŽáŽÊ ᎠɪᎠɎ'Ꭰê±áŽáŽáŽ áŽÊáŽÉªÊ. ÊÊɪáŽÊÊᎠᎡáŽê± ÊáŽÊáŽ, ÊÊáŽáŽáŽÉŽ. ê±ÊᎠáŽÉŽáŽ áŽÊáŽáŽ ᎡÊáŽÉŽ ɪᎠÊáŽÊᎠáŽÊᎠáŽáŽê±áŽ, ÊáŽáŽ áŽáŽÉŽ ê±ÊᎠáŽáŽÉŽáŽÉªÉŽáŽáŽ áŽáŽ áŽÉŽÊáŽáŽÊáŽ?Complete
Enchanted Love: The PAST-The PRESENT
~TOUCH HER AND SHE'LL KILL YOU~ They say the worst pain is losing someone. They're wrong. The real pain is knowing everything - every lie in a smile, every betrayal wrapped in love, every truth people try to bury. I see it all. I understand everyone... except myself. People look at me and see elegance, confidence, sharp intelligence. What they don't see is the silence I live in - a silence so loud it drowns my heartbeat. I used to think someone might come for me one day. Someone who wouldn't fear my mind or my power. Someone who would stay. But that kind of hope died when my parents did. Now I exist for one thing - revenge. No love. No attachments. No weakness. I don't need anyone. At least, that's the story I tell myself. - RAVEN ~~~ People fear heartbreak, betrayal, death. But you know what I fear? A life with no direction - drifting in an endless sea where strength means nothing. Everyone believes I'm the strongest man alive. The truth? Even mountains crumble if they stand alone too long. I've won wars, built empires, crushed enemies. But none of it fills the emptiness gnawing inside me. I move. I breathe. I survive. But I don't live. Some nights, I think what I really need isn't power... but a reason. A gravity strong enough to pull me out of the ocean I'm sinking in. A person who sees me - not the monster the world bows to. Until then, I drift. Silent, controlled, starving for something I'll never admit I want. - ARES
ðªð¹ð ðŽð¬ ðš ð¹ð°ðœð¬ð¹ (18+)
ðð§ ð°ð¡ð¢ðð¡ ð ð¬ðŠðð¥ð¥ ððšð°ð§ ð¢ð¬ ðð®ð«ð§ðð ð®ð©ð¬ð¢ðð ððšð°ð§ ð°ð¡ðð§ ð ð²ðšð®ð§ð ð ð¢ð«ð¥ ððð¥ð¥ð¬ ð¢ð§ ð¥ðšð¯ð ð°ð¢ðð¡ ð ððšð² ð°ð¡ðš ð¡ðð¬ ðð¡ð ð¥ðð¬ð ð§ððŠð ðð¢ðððð§. ⢠⢠⢠ðð§ ðð«ðšð§ð ðšð ðŠð² ðððð ð°ðð«ð ð ð©ðð¢ð« ðšð ð€ð§ððð¬. ðð§ððð¬ ðððððð¡ðð ððš ð¥ðð ð¬, ð¥ðð ð¬ ðððððð¡ðð ððš ð ððšð«ð¬ðš, ð ððšð«ð¬ðš ðð¡ðð ð¡ðð ð ð§ððð€ ðð§ð ð ðððð. ðððððšðšðð ð¡ðð§ðð¬ ð¡ðð¥ð ðŠð² ðð¡ð¢ð§ ðð§ð ð¥ð¢ðððð ðŠð² ð¡ððð ððš ðððð ð¡ð¢ðŠ. ðð²ðð¬ ð¬ðšðð ðð§ð ðð®ð«ð¢ðšð®ð¬ ð³ðð«ðšðð ð¢ð§ ðšð§ ðŠð, ððð¬ð©ðð«ðððð¥ð² ðð«ð²ð¢ð§ð ððš ð®ð§ððšð¯ðð« ð ð¬ððð«ðð. ðð² ð¬ððð«ððð¬ ð°ðšð®ð¥ðð§'ð ðð ð¬ððð«ððð¬ ððšð« ð¥ðšð§ð . ð ðšð« ð¡ð¢ðŠ, ð ððð¥ð ð¥ð¢ð€ð ðð§ ðšð©ðð§ ððšðšð€. ð ð°ðð§ððð ððš ð¬ð¡ðð«ð. ð ð°ðð§ððð ð¡ð¢ðŠ ððš ð€ð§ðšð° ðð¯ðð«ð²ðð¡ð¢ð§ð ðððšð®ð ðŠð ðð§ð ðð¡ðð§ ð¬ðšðŠð. ððš ðððð¢ð©ð¡ðð« ðð¥ð¥ ðšð ðŠð² ð©ðð¢ð§ ðð§ð ð¬ðð¯ð ðŠð ðð«ðšðŠ ðŠð²ð¬ðð¥ð.
ððð° & ðð¢ðšð¥ðð§ðð| ðð+
Aamani Lalowa was born in the shadows of New Orleans. A gorgeous woman who fought her way out of violence and abandonment to become one of Manhattan's most promising prosecutors. Archie "Archibald" Walker was born into New York power. Old money, elite education, and a reputation as the city's most feared criminal defense attorney. Charming in public. Psychologically unhinged in private. A master manipulator. Their lives collide in one of the most televised, nationally explosive cases New York has ever seen, and the clash sparks something far darker than rivalry. A dangerous attraction. Twisted interest. But only on one side. Because while Aamani tries to keep her distance, Archie becomes intensely-dangerously-obsessed. An infatuation that evolves into a dark romance with no intention of ever letting her go. Not in this life. Not in any. He is not a good man. And when Aamani realizes she has crossed her moral lines and fallen directly into his trap, she faces a truth far more terrifying than the case itself: Archie Walker doesn't want justice. He wants her. Completely. In the most darkest primal way... Surviving him may cost her everything-even her life. ⢠ᎠáŽáŽÊᎠáŽê° ᎠáŽáŽÉŽ ᎡÊᎠᎠáŽáŽê±ÉŽ'Ꭰê°áŽÊÊ ÉªÉŽ ÊáŽáŽ áŽ-ÊᎠáŽÊáŽÉªáŽê±, áŽáŽÉŽê±áŽáŽáŽê±, áŽÉŽáŽ ᎠáŽê±áŽÊáŽÊê±.
Flip Sides Of The Same Coin We Call Life
This romance autobiography is an accumulation of over 15 years of writings. I'm 72 and have experienced many wonderful, beautiful, educational, and enlightening moments. I've also endured the dark night of the soul where nothing means anything, all hope is gone, unrelenting loneliness and extremely deep re-occurring depressions. Flip sides of the same coin we call life. I've survived impossible accidents that should have killed me. I've filed bankruptcy twice, loosing half a million dollars of real estate. I haven't had a car in 10 years, rent a furnished apartment and all I own is a cellphone, television, and computer. I've had 20 different careers. Naming a few, I've been a foreman in a steel foundry, automobile salesman, district manager overseeing a 15-million-dollar territory, owner of a television/appliance retail company, store manager responsible for 80 employees, retail manager in the cellular industry, and a dealer for one of the largest casinos in the nation. Some of the wise decisions I thought I was making turned out to be really ridiculous. When writing these down, I wondered how on earth could I have possibly been that stupid. You'll find many that are quite hilarious. I started jotting down thoughts on a cell phone memo pad over 15 years ago. These writings have turned into eighteen manuscripts. An author has the natural talent to paint pictures with words; I do not possess that skill set. Quite by accident, I've developed into a writer. We are entering into an era of magnificent beauty, perfect harmony, perpetual joy, growing wisdom, pure truth, unending peace and unconditional love. You'll read of miracles that I and others have personally witnessed. There are no other logical explanations for what occurred. I've documented everything as accurately as memory permits. Read with an open mind and develop your own conclusions. Our awakening transcendence is occurring now. BobComplete
The Price Of Debt || GxG
ððšð¬ð¢ð ððð¥ð'ð¬ ðð¥ðšð°ðð« ð¬ð¡ðšð© ð°ðð¬ ð¡ðð« ð°ðšð«ð¥ð ð®ð§ðð¢ð¥ ð¡ðð« ðððð¡ðð« ð¬ððšð¥ð ðð¯ðð«ð²ðð¡ð¢ð§ð ððš ð©ðð² ðšðð ð ðððð ðð¡ðð ð°ðð¬ð§'ð ð¡ðð«ð¬. ððšð°, ð¬ð¡ð'ð¬ ðð«ðšð€ð, ððšð«ð§ðð«ðð, ðð§ð ðð«ð²ð¢ð§ð ð¢ð§ ð ð¬ðð«ðð§ð ðð«'ð¬ ðð«ðŠð¬. ðð®ð ðð¡ðð ð¬ðð«ðð§ð ðð« ð¢ð¬ð§'ð ð ð¬ðð«ðð§ð ðð« ðð ðð¥ð¥. ðð¡ð'ð¬ ððð«ðð©ð¡ð¢ð§ð ððšð¬ð¬, ðð¡ð ððšð¥ð-ðð¥ðšðšððð ðŠððð¢ð ð¡ðð¢ð« ð°ð¡ðš ðšð°ð§ð¬ ð¡ðð¥ð ðð¡ð ðð¢ðð²... ðð§ð ð§ðšð°, ð¡ðð« ð¬ð¡ðšð©. ðð§ð ððð«ðð©ð¡ð¢ð§ð ðšð§ð¥ð² ðšðððð«ð¬ ð¡ðð« ðšð§ð ð°ðð² ðšð®ð: "ððð«ð«ð² ðŠð. ðððð© ð²ðšð®ð« ð¬ð¡ðšð© ðšð« ð°ðð¥ð€ ðð°ðð² ðð§ð ð¥ðšð¬ð ðð¯ðð«ð²ðð¡ð¢ð§ð ." ððšð¬ð¢ð ð¬ðð²ð¬ ð²ðð¬. ðð®ð ð¬ð¡ð ð©ð¥ðð§ð¬ ððš ð«ð®ð§. ðð±ððð©ð ððð«ðð©ð¡ð¢ð§ð ð¢ð¬ ðð¥ð°ðð²ð¬ ðð°ðš ð¬ððð©ð¬ ðð¡ððð ð¬ðŠð¢ð«ð€ð¢ð§ð , ð°ðð¢ðð¢ð§ð , ð°ðððð¡ð¢ð§ð . Most Impressive Rankings: #1 in wlwComplete
Start of it All (YouTuber And Bandom AU)
This place where we live is literally heaven and hell on Earth. There's a border that you can cross, but only people from hell can cross back and forth. Us humans haven't found a way to cross this yet. But every family has its secrets, their powers. Every family has a secret power, a dynasty of powers circle the Earth that we live on. My family is different though, we have two powers while most families have one. These powers were given to our bloodlines at the dawn of time. Ours got fire and invisibility, but there's also another secret to ours, we can also fly. Every human has one thing that makes them different as well, a talent. Our version of talent is something that you are amazing at and inspire other people to want to do. We can have multiple talents. Mine are music and art. People from hell are evil versions of us. They have the same powers as us and the same talents, but they do things that we don't do. They're the ones who love to kill and a lot of other stuff. I have two friends who are half demon, but are also human; Jack and Mark, they're not huge fans of that place, so they roam around here a lot. My family doesn't know about this, only my other friends. They're my closest friends, but I know a few other people. You guys are probably anxious to know my name. It's Kenna. I'm the one who has one of the strongest dynasties of powers, the one who has the talents of music and art, and the one who has two half demon friends, Jack and Mark. The same girl who lead a horrible life, but all of the people I knew helped me. This was the Start of it All.Complete
ÊÊáŽáŽÊáŽÊ'ê± ê°ÉªáŽÉŽáŽÃáŽ
ðð¢ð®ðªð°ð¯ ðšð³ð¢ð£ðŽ ð®ðº ðžð¢ðªðŽðµ ð¢ð¯ð¥ ðµð¶ð³ð¯ðŽ ð®ðŠ ð§ð¢ð€ðªð¯ðš ðµð©ðŠ ð£ð¢ðµð©ð³ð°ð°ð® ð®ðªð³ð³ð°ð³. ððº ð£ð³ðŠð¢ðµð© ðªðŽ ð€ð¢ð¶ðšð©ðµ ðªð¯ ð®ðº ðµð©ð³ð°ð¢ðµ. ð ð€ð¢ð¯'ðµ ð¥ð° ðµð©ðªðŽ. ð ð€ð¢ð¯'ðµ ð§ð¶ð€ð¬ ð®ðº ððªð¢ð¯ð€Ã© ð£ð³ð°ðµð©ðŠð³. "ðððŠð¢ðŽðŠ ðŽðµð°ð±..." ð ðžð©ðªðŽð±ðŠð³. ðð¢ð®ðªð°ð¯ ð³ð¶ð£ðŽ ðµð©ðŠ ðµðªð± ð°ð§ ð©ðªðŽ ð€ð°ð€ð¬ ð¢ðšð¢ðªð¯ðŽðµ ð®ðº ð±ð¶ðŽðŽðº, ð€ð¢ð¶ðŽðªð¯ðš ð®ðŠ ðµð° ððŠðµ ð°ð¶ðµ ð¢ ðŽð°ð§ðµ ð®ð°ð¢ð¯. ð ð²ð¶ðªð€ð¬ððº ð€ð°ð·ðŠð³ ð®ðº ð®ð°ð¶ðµð©. "ðð¢ð®ðªð°ð¯, ð±ððŠð¢ðŽðŠ.. ðð¢ðº ðªðŽ ð³ðªðšð©ðµ ðªð¯ ðµð©ðŠ ð°ðµð©ðŠð³ ð³ð°ð°ð®." ð ð±ððŠð¢ð¥. "ððŠ ð¥ð°ðŠðŽð¯'ðµ ð©ð¢ð·ðŠ ðµð° ð¬ð¯ð°ðž." ðð¢ð®ðªð°ð¯ ðžð©ðªðŽð±ðŠð³ðŽ ð¢ð¯ð¥ ðŽððªð±ðŽ ð©ðªðŽ ð©ð¢ð¯ð¥ ðªð¯ðµð° ð®ðº ðð¢ð€ðŠ ð±ð¢ð¯ðµðªðŠðŽ ð¢ð¯ð¥ ð£ðŠðšð¢ð¯ ðµð° ð³ð¶ð£ ð®ðº ð€ððªðµ. ð ð€ð¢ð¯'ðµ ðð°ð°ð¬ ð¢ðµ ð®ðºðŽðŠðð§. ð ð§ðŠðŠð ðŽð° ð¢ðŽð©ð¢ð®ðŠð¥.. ðŽð° ðžðŠð¢ð¬. "ð ð€ð¢ð¯'ðµ ð¥ð° ðµð©ðªðŽ, ðð¢ð®ðªð°ð¯. ðððŠð¢ðŽðŠ." ð ðžð©ðªðŽð±ðŠð³, ð£ð¶ðµ ð©ðŠ ð€ð°ð¯ðµðªð¯ð¶ðŠðŽ. ð'ð® ðµð¶ð³ð¯ðŠð¥ ð°ð¯. ððº ð¯ðªð±ð±ððŠðŽ ð¢ð³ðŠ ð©ð¢ð³ð¥ ð¢ð¯ð¥ ð®ðº ð±ð¶ðŽðŽðºComplete
ð ððð ðð ð ð ððððð ððððððð - ððððð ðððððð
ðšððð ð»ðð§ðð âð ð€ð€ð ðšðð€ ðð ððð€ ððð£ððª ðð'ð€ , ðð ðð ð¥ ð ð ðð ððððð¥ ð€ð¥ððð ð¡ð£ðððððð¥. ðððð£ð¥ðª ððð§ð ðªððð£ð€ ððð¥ðð£, ððð€ ðŠðððð ðšð ðððŠððð¥ðð£ ðð ððð€ ð¥ðð ð¹ðžð ðð€ ð ð¡ð£ð ððððð£. ðžðð ð€ððð£ðð¥ð€ ðšððð ðð ðð ð ðŠð¥. âððð ' ðšððð ð¥ðšð ðšð ð£ððð€ ðð ððððð' ð¥ð ðððð ð ðŠð¥ ðšððð¥ ððð¡ð¡ððð€! âð ðšð£ðð¥ð¥ðð / ð€ð¥ðð£ð¥ðð : ðð:ðð.ðððð âð ðð¡ððð¥ðð: ðð.ðð.ððððComplete
Evolution
There are a lot of things you don't really think about until they happen to you. Take rape, for instance. I always thought, "That won't happen to me. I have a boyfriend. I trust him. He would never take advantage of me like that..." I couldn't have been more wrong. Love in this day and age is often confused for manipulation and abuse. The warning signs are here. The things we say will tell us everything that is wrong. You are worth more than what you think you are. It's not your fault. If they tell you otherwise, get out. Burn the bridge. Always remember someone is waiting for you to walk into their life. Someone needs you. Someone loves you. Getting away from all of the wrong people and finding the right ones could save you. I can promise you right now that it saved me. These are the journal entries and selected poems from my first experience of love that left a unpleasant taste in my mouth- quite literally. I am putting this out for the whole world to see because I hope everyone will learn from my experience. People can see. We have no excuses to continue living our lives in ignorance. ...WARNING... HARMFUL THEMES INCLUDING MENTION OF SUICIDE, SELF HARM, AND RAPE. THIS HAS EXPLICIT CONTENT. RECOVERY AND AWARENESS IS THE PURPOSE OF SHARING. DO NOT READ IF THESE THEMES ARE OFFENSIVE OR HARMFUL TO YOU.Complete
ᎠɎ áŽ áŽ Ê áŽ ; áŽáŽÊÊÊ áŽÉŽ áŽáŽ áŽÉŽ ᎡÊáŽÉŽ ɪᎠÊáŽÊáŽê±. ÊÊɪáŽÊÊᎠáŽáŽÊáŽÊÊáŽê±. ê°áŽáŽÉªÊÊ, ê±áŽáŽáŽáŽÊɪɎɢ áŽáŽ áŽÊÊáŽÉŽáŽ ÊáŽáŽÊÉŽê± ê°áŽÊ, áŽÊᎠáŽáŽÊáŽÊÊáŽê± ᎡáŽÊᎠáŽÉŽáŽáŽ ᎠáŽáŽáŽáŽÊáŽáŽáŽ ê°áŽáŽÉªÊ, áŽÉŽáŽÉªÊ áŽÊᎠᎠɪê±áŽáŽáŽáŽÊáŽÉŽáŽáŽ áŽê° áŽÊáŽÉªÊ áŽÉŽÊÊ áŽ áŽáŽÉ¢ÊáŽáŽÊ. áŽÉŽáŽÉªÊ ÉŽáŽáŽ¡, áŽÊáŽÊ'Ꭰê°ÉªÉŽáŽÊÊÊ ê°áŽáŽÉŽáŽ ÊáŽÊ. áŽÊáŽÊ'ᎠáŽxáŽáŽáŽáŽáŽáŽ ÊáŽÊ ÊáŽáŽáŽÊÉŽ áŽáŽ ÊᎠáŽÊáŽÉªÊ ÊáŽáŽáŽÊ áŽÉŽáŽ ɪɎɢ? ÉŽáŽ, áŽáŽáŽê±áŽ áŽÊᎠáŽáŽáŽÊÉŽáŽÊ ᎠɪᎠɎ'Ꭰê±áŽáŽáŽ áŽÊáŽÉªÊ. ÊÊɪáŽÊÊᎠᎡáŽê± ÊáŽÊáŽ, ÊÊáŽáŽáŽÉŽ. ê±ÊᎠáŽÉŽáŽ áŽÊáŽáŽ ᎡÊáŽÉŽ ɪᎠÊáŽÊᎠáŽÊᎠáŽáŽê±áŽ, ÊáŽáŽ áŽáŽÉŽ ê±ÊᎠáŽáŽÉŽáŽÉªÉŽáŽáŽ áŽáŽ áŽÉŽÊáŽáŽÊáŽ?
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