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Steady Hands :icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 1 1
Literature
You don't know
It's so easy to walk down the street.
It's so easy to to say hello.
There's nothing to going through life,
nothing to living.
There's nothing to living.
So easy to pass us on the street,
to smile,
to wave,
to walk away and never know that inside we're barely alive at all.
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:icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 0 0
Literature
A Damned Flirt
Oh joy, she's flirting. Why is it she's always flirting? Sometimes I think it might just be her, but she's probably just desperate.
It is really cold. Do any of these people realize how cold it is out here? And it's that bitter cold too, the kind that hurts. There are a good five or six inches of snow on the sidewalk, and foot more everywhere else. I'm surprised my breath doesn't freeze up and fall to ground. Everyone else is grouped so close together they might as well be standing in a cloud; it would probably be just as cold. Maybe that's why I seem to be the only one who actually feels temperature. I'm sure all my friends are toasty warm in their little huddle. I suppose I could join them, but my legs disagree. Whose bright idea was it to stand around in a freezing parking lot in the middle of the night? It is really cold.
Fine, it's not just my legs. I don't want to have to see those two throwing themselves at each other. No one needs to be subjected to that, it makes me kind of si
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:icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 1 0
Literature
Forgotten
"I don't like this!" he shouted in a rage of fury, "I'm not gonna take it anymore!"
"You're being irrational, just try to calm down. Try thinking about your childhood, think back to better times," I reply, voice calm and steady as always.
"Remember? Remember! I'm trying to forget!" he continues on his tirade, "Do you think I like this? I've been trying to forget all these years, why do you think I was sent here?"
"You and I both know very well why you are here," I continue, unphased by his behavior, it's not like I haven't heard this a dozen times over from patients every day for the past 15 years.
"Stop patronizing me! You think I'm just some dumb nut, don't you. Probably abused as a child or... or just cracked under the stress of work!" he's still shouting, with rather more vigor than usual, I might add, "You don't think for a minute that I'm just a man who has been haunted by a memory his whole life, do you? You don't stop to think that maybe he just needs to forget this whole ordea
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:icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 2 6
Literature
Remember Us
My name is Harry Prayman, Sergeant, Pearl Harbor Naval Station. I work in logistics, filling the orders of countless requisition forms from people and departments all over the base. It is 0745 hours and I have just finished eating breakfast in the mess hall. I am walking from breakfast to work, wishing it was time for lunch. And now I am dead. No warning, no advance notice. Just walking from one breakfast of unidentifiable nutrients out of hundreds to just another five minute walk to just another day at work, and now I am dead.
My service file will read, "Killed in Action". My wife will be told I died in the line of duty. My neighbors will hear that I was killed in battle with enemies of Democracy. I was walking from breakfast to work, and now I am dead. I will be spoken of by presidents and preachers, by salesmen and schoolboys. People will speak of me, a nation will hear of my sacrifice and a world will hear that I am the saviour of my country, on this day, the seventh day of the mon
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Faded Freedom by TransparentlyAlone Faded Freedom :icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 1 0 The Library by TransparentlyAlone The Library :icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 1 0
Literature
Unhealthy
This can't be healthy. Even saying that it is not healthy is unhealthy, a remnant of an old regime. And even though the dictator has fallen, anarchy has been unleashed and chaos runs free in the streets. Worst of all, I must bear the burden, and I must bear it alone. So the old rulers were tough and cruel, so they didn't show their care for the people, what gave me the right to topple them. The last one never really did anything to me, after all, I was just a writer who got to bold for his own good. Maybe they were right to send those men to my home to tell me the error of my ways. But, no, I took it upon myself to cry out for change. One thing led to another and all of the sudden I carry a gun with me on the streets, I find my friends have become my followers, and attempted murders are now attempted assassinations.
I recall one such attempt with greater clarity than any other, it's astounding really. I stood before a display case in a local store, trying with unusual difficulty to dec
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:icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 1 0
Literature
Junkie
I'm a junkie,
I admit it.
I'm hooked,
hopelessly and without a doubt.
But it's not a drug,
not a drink, not a game or a gamble.
It's a girl, plain and simple.
But it's not simple,
not really.
How can an addiction be simple?
It's irrational,
illogical,
beyond comprehension.
Why should I allow my mind to reel,
over something I can't understand?
More importantly,
why can't I?
It shouldn't be this hard,
she's just a girl.
Different, true,
but just a girl.
Another in a not so long line,
three to be precise.
But of those three,
only one addiction.
Of those three,
only one still has me.
I suppose she's escaped the vicious cycle,
the one that takes care of all the rest.
It's boredom,
sweet boredom.
A merciful painkiller,
ending things early.
Only two others ever survived its filtration,
its icy discrimination.
But it got them in the end,
no one escapes.
Well, almost no one.
I'm not sure how she slipped through my defenses,
I though they were so well built.
I knew the signs,
I knew the warnings
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:icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 1 2
Literature
Sick
Sick? I've been sick before. I've been all kinds of sick before. I've been sniffles sick, cough sick, "upset tummy" sick, flu sick, even anaphylaxis sick. I've never been love sick. At least never, until now. It's a tricky diagnosis, love sickness that is. It's like a cancer, hiding ever so benignly until it spreads and all of the sudden it's everywhere. Sometimes I wish it was terminal.
Being love sick is a rather interesting sensation come to think of it. It's so painful, but I can't seem to tell you where it hurts. Its symptoms are so metaphorical, yet its causes are so literal, so exact. I can't describe what I'm feeling to save save my life. But I know why, I know exactly why. I know who, when, how. There is one part that eludes me. The why. I know it was her, I know that February 7th is when it all began, I know just what she did to me or, should I say, just what she didn't do, but why? Why did she do this, she must've known what would happen. That she would make me so sick.
But
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:icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 0 0
Literature
It was raining
It was raining. I was sitting in my apartment, reading some book, a classic. I was in my armchair, facing the large window that overlooked the city. The light was dim, I could barely see the words on the page, but I wouldn't turn on another lamp. The rain began falling harder and harder, the sound was deafening next to the utter silence I had created. My own perfect moment, frozen in time, the only disturbance in the bliss was my own hand, turning a page. I'm glance up from the seemingly endless words and look down. I'm so high above everything, but I can still see the people below, they are running around like insects. The rain drops fall and patter against the ground, the people are running and screaming now, trying to get away. I gently close my book, not bothering to replace the bookmark. I make my way to the door, not bothering to put out the lamp. I pull on my coat and grab a hat, it's late and it gets cold outside. I walk slowly to the stairwell ignoring the people frantically r
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:icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 0 1
Literature
Grownup's Toys
To all the people,
all their ploys.
All the girls,
and all the boys.
From New York,
or Illinois.
I'll really try not to make noise.
As I play with grownup's toys.
And take my final deadly poise.
To watch the missile that destroys,
all the people it employs.
Knowing that as it deploys,
it brings me certain sickly joys.
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:icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 2 10
Literature
Look what you've done
The days will come,
the days will will pass.
You're almost through,
that was fast.
Before you took a single breath,
before you took some time to rest.
Now life is done,
you did your best.
But in your life,
what did you do.
I heard you killed,
is that true.
A soldier in a useless war,
A killer, that's all, nothing more.
So why are you the better man,
Cause I can't kill and you can.
I also heard you fell in love,
you should know it starts the end.
She broke your heart,
it couldn't mend.
Bitter, angry, loveless, cold,
your set apart as tales are told.
To walk about in hateful stares,
to find someone who truly cares.
You're not alone,
or so they say.
It never really,
works that way.
You'll wander in,
you'll wander out.
To find something,
you heard about.
Your life's been wasted,
your days are done.
You've lived your life.
so sets the sun.
Heard you lived in obscurity,
never with security.
In who you were that was the flaw,
that left your soul so bare and raw.
I heard somewhere you'd lost y
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:icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 1 0
Literature
Human Nature
To be human is to lie,
to be cruel then run and hide.
To twist the truth,
to bend the real.
A dream to kill,
A wish to steal.
To be human is to war,
first to fight and to stay sore.
To be bitter,
to destroy.
Always leering,
never coy.
To be human is to love,
push a little and then shove.
To be open,
to be true.
Don't be patient,
SHE won't find YOU.
To be human is to cry,
you can't hold out, don't even try.
It overwhelms you,
takes control.
Don't resist,
the tears will roll.
To be human is to spy,
looking through a mindful eye.
Always planning,
thinking through.
Ready to bring,
the fight to you.
To be human is to lie,
to be human is to cry.
To be human is to war,
to be human is to spy.
To be human is to love,
to be human is to die.
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:icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 0 6
Literature
Just Running
I'm running. I'm not running from anyone, or to anywhere. Just running, in circles, along with fifty other people. We call ourselves a team, but we're the furthest thing from. Just a big group of us, running, not even in groups. Everyone is here, from the oh so popular girls, to the big  jocks, to the skaters, to me. We all run, some in groups, some alone.
I'm running. I'm not running with anyone, or for anyone. Just running. I'll keep running, and everyday I'll see the same things over and over. I'll see them change and become different. Ha-ha, just like the tree. Right in front of me, that old oak, that's where I first saw her. She was just sitting under it, with a good book and a beautiful smile. Her hair was light and blowing in the gentle breeze then. Her face was bright and cheery. Every once in a while I would stop over on my way here and say hi.  But not anymore. Those warm breezes fell to the harsh frigid winds that whip through this place at this time of y
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:icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 1 7
Sailing the Sunset by TransparentlyAlone Sailing the Sunset :icontransparentlyalone:TransparentlyAlone 1 2

Activity


...broken up with,

by text message,

and I'm extremely sad about it.

deviantID

TransparentlyAlone
Nick
United States

Comments


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:iconrebeltango:
RebelTango Featured By Owner Dec 29, 2009
Thanks for the faveeeeeeeee. I <3 you.
(come to providence. or tell me to come to wheteverchester. Eastchester?)
Reply
:icontransparentlyalone:
TransparentlyAlone Featured By Owner Jan 1, 2010
Wow, you remembered the name of whateverchester, that's legitimately impressive. But I warn you, the novelty of the predominantly Italian, Lower Husdon Valley suburb wares thin fairly quickly, we're known for fleeing into Manhattan whenever possible.
Reply
:iconrebeltango:
RebelTango Featured By Owner Jan 2, 2010
Sounds just like the predominantly Italian, Rhode Island suburb I live in. I just flee five miles to Providence.
Reply
:iconrebeltango:
RebelTango Featured By Owner May 26, 2009
Hello.
I haven't talked to you in quite a while.
I was driving in the general direction of my church the other day and remembered that one time, when I almost killed you while i was driving.
I'm actually good at it now.
Just thought you deserved to know.
I MISS YOU.
Reply
:icontransparentlyalone:
TransparentlyAlone Featured By Owner Jun 6, 2009
Glad to be kept in the loop.
I recently got my papers in order, so I'll be working on killing some of my friends too.
Speaking of churches, *laughs hysterically*
And actually, don't take this the wrong way, I haven't thought of you in a while, now I miss you, jerk.
Reply
:iconrebeltango:
RebelTango Featured By Owner Jun 7, 2009
oh yay! killing people is fun!(?)

i kinda can't wait for camp.
we can skip the first week where i'm a jackass and steal your hat and just get right to me being sarcastic but nice. w0oT
Reply
:icontransparentlyalone:
TransparentlyAlone Featured By Owner Jun 10, 2009
Excellent, I can't wait for those shenanigans ... I mean enlightening young minds with Christian values.
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconb1gfan:
b1gfan Featured By Owner Aug 27, 2008  Student Writer
the ghost who writes tells only the truths of the next world :D
Reply
:iconteknicolourkiss:
teknicolourkiss Featured By Owner Jul 28, 2008
Thank you for the watch. I love you gallery I hope to see more soon =)
Reply
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