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The question most commonly asked within a social mind,
Who am I?
We strive to be someone, so we ask ourselves, Who?
Who am I to another? What makes me special?
Where do I fit in in this social collage?
But just as a computer program will show
The answers you receive, depend on the question posed.
I believe the question to seeking out self-Identity begins with,
How do I see myself?
As humans, we have a natural sense of wanting to belong.
In this sense, we develop a social adaptation,
meaning we change who we are to fit the needs and wants of others.
Like survival, Adapt to the environment around you to survive.
Only less barbaric sounding, haha.
We never really get a chance to express who we truly are,
and rarely get the chance to think as an individual.
The fear of judgment alters ones thinking,
thus altering ones personality to fit a specific social environment.
This ends up not as "Who am I?", but as "Who are we?".
If we can put aside the fear of judgment,
we would actually
Live UnlockedAs one story will end
a new beginning will rise,
from the ashes of destruction
breed new life.
From hollow points
of sorrow and despair,
no feeling is greater
than knowing those who care.
The moments we live for
those moments of rapture,
the absence of time
filled with images we must capture.
Death enters not
before he knocks,
So live a life of peace
without your locks.
Love"Hey! What're you scribbling on your notebook?"
"It's always nothing. Com'n, tell me." With that she snatched the notebook from him and caught him offguard. She was only able to read the first few words that he snatched it back from her.
"Love doesn't exist?" She asked in a confused tone
"It's nothing alright!"
"It is something. What are you not telling me?"
"I said it's NOTHING" a rage in his voice. She was taken aback by his anger that she couldn't reply in fear.
After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't of reacted the way I did."
"It's okay. It's not your fault."
"The thing is I don't want people to know how I feel about things."
"You can tell me. You know you can trust me. Please tell me. I want to help you. How can you say love doesn't exist. What about your mom? A mom always loves her child."
"My mom left me and my dad when I was five for another man." His reply was cold.
"I'm sorry. I....I didn't know. But your dad loves you right?"
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
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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