| A short chunk of the first part of chapter numero uno of a short story I'm writing. |
| A short chunk of the first part of chapter numero uno of a short story I'm writing. |


PhilophobiaI could taste my own delusion, like copper and milk,Philophobia
as the world swung by without a word.
It was like drinking insanity,
with a splash of lucid thought, and I remember you telling me it was a medicine to pain. But what pain was there,
to be cured by you and your remedies?
It seemed the deeper I drank,
the more I drowned,
while you stood above and watched with a smile.
Only, you never did smile,
only grimace and smirk,
belittling those who were like you,
and torturing those who weren't.
No one was a winner, but you lied and said


Of Glass and SandI want to build myself a castle, On top of pillars of sand, Where the walls will be of glass, For me to break with my very own hand. I'll throw stones every day, To feed the impulsive, I'll weather storms every Tuesday, To free the compulsive. I want to build myself a castle, So I can bring it's destruction, Where I'll sit in shattered glass, To earn misery's seduction.Of Glass and Sand


Just BecauseIt's because the insomnia keeps you up all night; because the threads of monotony are both secure and deadly. Because sometimes screaming into pillows doesn't work as well as tearing them up; because sometimes you just want to be able to fix things yourself. It's because of that dull ache that's coming from a part of you that you just can't place; because sometimes you want to watch it all burn. Because sometimes, you want to burn with it.Just Because
It's because thinking becomes your mortal enemy when you need it most; because sometimes not knowing what you feel is worse then knowing. Because when the final drop of water falls from the sho


Our ApocalypseWe could watch the world wither away, Until wisps of clouds are the saints of oblivion, Feel the corrosion of poison, As it fades the ground below.Our Apocalypse
We could watch the stars go out one by one, Count the moments til darkness will come. Taste the decay of time on our lips, As the moon falls to bits.
We could watch the dust settle, For a final time amongst the weeds. Hear the hymn of the world's exodus, As the air itself leads the choir.
We could watch the end of the world together, While it's moments shatter what was once forever. We can live
| A collection of art and literature that makes me want to work harder to get that good. Also, a bunch of tutorials and photoshop brushes and textures that come in handy quite often. |

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Visit my gallery rawr :3
[link]
~Azixel~
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Jeanette Mathews: Character Design Portfolio [link]
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Visit my gallery rawr :3
[link]
~Azixel~
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Books are things that always have something to offer. And poems, songs, etc. can sometimes have a duplicity to them that makes them enjoyable to read over and over, even when views change. I suppose that's one reason why I like writing so much. It appeals to change.
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I also put some of my life experiences into my writing. Sometimes it can be hard to seperate yourself depending on the situation. But with all those experiences it helps with creating a more believable story and that is what makes a good writer in my opinion. That is creating an original story (to the extent that one can be original in this day in age)while still making it believable and not too far fetched, even in fantasy.
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"you make it hard to smile because you make it hard to breath" - Secondhand Serenade
Most of my poems are based on my life, because that's usually my outlet. But they can be taken in any way, so, it's not like I feel like some drama queen over writing so much. When it comes to stories, there usually are things I drew from based on my life, and it is sometimes hard to separate myself from the situation if it's revolving around a common element. I can get emotional over it, embarrassingly. But, while using life experiences dose make a good believable character, I don't have many to draw from. Enough, it would seem, to get into the meat and bone of mental conflict and destructive impulses (which I write about for two reasons, one being an outlet and the other being a way to make the subject more familiar to people who turn away from it for various reasons). But for the rest, I have to rely on pure empathy for the characters. Imagine I am the character, with that set personality, and try to figure out how they'd act. I tried explaining this to a friend who had trouble making believable characters during sad scenes and I told her that if she doesn't cry for the character while writing she hasn't reached their mind set. She gave me the weirdest look. lol
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I use to write poetry and it was as an outlet but then it all seemed to be going around in a circle and I never really seemed to get anywhere with it. So now I am on to fiction which when I get in the mood I think I can do fairly well. My only problem is I start one then get an idea for another one so I drop the first and work on the new one. If I caould actually finish a story I don't think it would be that bad.
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"you make it hard to smile because you make it hard to breath" - Secondhand Serenade
And, as I've said I have that problem with stories. I keep getting new and better ideas. So I'm trying short stories that are only a few chapters long. Maybe working on keeping with one idea slowly could help.
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