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  Submission Name: RetR0-spectRe
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| Author: | _proper_noun_ | | ASL Info: | 20/m/OK
| | Elite Ratio: | 5.39 - 106/87/23 | | Words: | 169 |
| | | Class/Type: | Prose/Serious | | Total Views: | 309 | | Average Vote: | No vote yet. | | Bytes: | 955 |
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Description:
Ok, the hallway represents veins. The color is the passion for life that everyone is physically, emotionally, and mentally equipped with upon birth. The mirror is a blade that she runs through her flesh. The fear of evaporation is the fear of numbness of self. She wants to go on feeling. The anecdotes are recreational chemical uses, which ultimately numb you more and more. The bullet is her final sensation. She doesn't want to just disappear from existence, so she offs herself with a flashy show and a big mess to clean up for her family. The point is, leave self-mutilation to those who actually find some sort of joy in it, and don't do the drugs that will drive you to something like this. If you can't tell which drugs those are, don't do drugs at all unless your doctor tells you to. I digress: self-mutilation puts a scar on other people's hearts no matter what, so if you have no purpose to hurt yourself, DON'T DO IT. You give perversions of nature who find it erotic to be hurt a worse name than they deserve. Of course, anybody else gets their opinion, but that's the emotion behind the writing of this prose. |
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RetR0-spectRe
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A gentle reflection down a scarlet hued corridor reflects the life force we cannot see by the mere working of our own eyes. She casts eerie shadows on the walls that seep into her reality, telling her dirty secrets and contaminating her mind with recipes of false anecdotes for the fear with which she is brimming with. The lovely rouge of these walls has been faded by scrubbing down the fear with quick-fixes and lust driven prescription in vain attempts at healing. This life-mirror is her last defense against fading into the omnipresent threat of evaporation. She knows this fortress of reflective hope will not regenerate the luster these walls once had, but she has to try and save herself. Presently, the color returns to its former state of degeneration. A bullet rips through the passageway, shattering the mirror, marring the walls to a point where they themselves cease to exist in any form of order, pattern, or beauty. She has passed. |
Submitted on 2004-12-01 14:21:15 Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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but your writing was in depth it takes time but it really fully gets your main point across it seems you write about suicide and struggling from other peoples perspectives or a perspective of an unseen force i don't really think it's your veiw well i mean it is but it isn't in a form that shows that and since i'm rambling on and confusing even myself i'll just leave