littlebear1998

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Tyrion Lannister charcoal pencil drawing

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Literature

6 ways on learning how to swim

1. toes first when i was younger i thought i was beautiful. not like the other girls, of course, but i thought that the sun followed me around because it thought i was pretty. and i am a shop-a-holic. money burns a hole in the back pocket of my jeans because i love to spend it. but i do not like to go shopping. i love the idea and hate the activity. there are few days that trying on clothes brings me happiness because there are even fewer days that i love my body enough to look in a mirror. but i am trying. ("i love this dress! i can't believe that it fit! i dropped another size!" "taylor." "what, mom? why are you looking at me like t

Literature

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VIDEO: Diana, ink and watercolor portraiture

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6 ways on learning how to swim by A-Lovely-Anxiety, literature

Literature

6 ways on learning how to swim

on being saved by KaitForest, literature

Two Years Later by UntamedUnwanted, literature

i haven't forgotten by KaitForest, literature

The Beggar's Gift (A Love Story) by wispofcloud, literature

Literature

The Beggar's Gift (A Love Story)

She wandered the shadows of the streets day and night, face hidden and a frayed basket in her hands. A beggar. Shunned, she became like a bit of dust in the breeze, lost among the many faceless passerby. But she would not be deterred. Her task was one worthy of determination, it was too important to be left to chance. For she was not trying to get, but to give. The beggar bore the basket before her as if it were made of spun glass and it was only her sheer will power holding it together. She offered it up to any gentlemanly face that came her way. “Please sir, will you take this gift?” But those few that did not pass by her wo

Do You Hate Me? by WhiteHeartFlame, literature

Literature

Do You Hate Me?

You are sitting on the ground, pulling grass up as you stare at the horizon in boredom. A girl walks up to you, blocking the view of the sun. "Do you hate me?" You blink. "What?" "Do you hate me?" she repeats. You stare at her. "Uh, why would I hate you?" "You don't talk to me." "Just because I don't talk to you doesn't mean I hate you." "So... you don't hate me?" You think for a moment. "Well, I don't know you, so I guess I don't hate you." "So, if you knew me, then would you hate me?" You stare at her. She strikes you as being very odd. You are unsure of what to say; a part of you want

Ice Cream by evanescentdark, literature

Literature

Ice Cream

Everyone writes poems about emotions and fears And one day I said, "I want to write a poem about Ice cream." About Dilly Bars on the drive from Tucson to Phoenix The Dairy Queen across the highway from the ostrich farm With the dust devil's raging by About soft serve cones at the Desert Museum Always Twist. Never Vanilla. On all those hot Saturday afternoons Watching mountain goats sleep in the shade A poem about Friday nights after pizza A different flavor every time And eating straight from the carton at Dad's While netflix plays on the wii And sitting on the rooftop watching the stars Ice cream bar in hand About the store by Big Lake W

Black Widow II by Aerode, literature

Literature

Black Widow II

away i'm going to break away drain i'm in the drain of drains and slowly being spun downwards and downwards and downwards and down wards. thirteen Mom's rose garden grew beneath the steps, and I did too. They weren't aligned and it bothered me. I always tried to fight it but she would come down and lay her hand on my bare skin and whisper, "They aren't growing." And I would be red like the roses and blue like the violets. She grew beneath the steps too. past notlookingforthepastorthe f

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