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About Literature / Student CeCeFemale/United States Recent Activity
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Feeling super depressed, most likely cause is stress, I have two exams in the next week, one with an essay, practice tests for AP exams the entirety of it for my other classes, and then 2 weeks of AP testing, of which I have to take 3.
On top of that I'm thinking about colleges and I have one I really want to get into but it's super duper limited like 20% of applicants get approved or something and now I can't go upstairs until like 10 because my parents have two people over and I have that restless feel that I can't settle down to doing anything at all except stress and try and motivate myself to do something productive.
I literally just wrote on my arms 'I am not defined by my wounds, but by my scars' and drew a semicolon on my middle finger on my left hand to try and motivate myself to do something.
Oh, and normal activities I like doing! They're not fun anymore! I'm tired all the fing time and I want to not deal with any of this so I'm not in a good place right now and I'm not sure if I would welcome a hit from a bus but I probably would.
So, yay.
  • Playing: with depression

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Archelaos walked along the carved stone path, feeling the way with his hands, although he knew it from memory well enough. She’d guided him through here enough times for him to know it within inches of every entrance and exit.
The reason he was journeying so tentatively through this place that he’d known for a year, more than that?
He’d heard a whinny.
Medusa had no horses.

Finally, he led himself to the site of the noise, something his ears had been capable of picking up and triangulating for quite a long time.
The blind man gingerly let his touch of the wall cease, the stone doing no good to guide him to what was happening here.
But what had happened here?
“Medusa?” He called out, his voice soft. Often times, they had had no need to talk, taking comfort from the presence of the other solely.
Of course, when Medusa had spoke about what had happened to her… when she had run into the temple, trying to escape a god intent on hunting her down…. He’d talked. Assured her that she’d done nothing wrong- it was through no fault of her own. She’d always giggle and press a kiss to his hand, happy that she had found someone who wouldn’t- probably couldn’t abandon her.
Why would he? Archelaos was happy here- they had a nice life. They were friends. Good friends.
The only one the other had.
Moving one step at a time, stretching his arms out, Archelaos called out again, “Medusa?”
No response.
His foot bumped against something- it wasn’t there before.
Kneeling, he felt for it with his hands, touching. This…. This…. It couldn’t be….
No….
He felt his sightless eyes start to weep as he pulled the still-warm body of Medusa unto his lap. Who would do such a thing? What did she do to hurt this monster who attacked her? Who…. who…. Cut off her head! What did they want it for?! All she had wanted to do was live in peace! That was all!
That…. That was all…..
Apparently that was all she was allowed. A wish. A dream. While her killer would be deemed a hero, undoubtedly, while all this simple person had wanted to do was live in peace, and forget what had happened to her.
Being branded a monster after a god…. Has his way with you…. Being transformed into something that no one can look in the eyes…..
Archelaos wiped a tear from his eyes, pressing it to her collarbone, because even the dignity of having a simple blessing of fortune to the afterlife was somehow too much for this horrifying person, who was nothing but forgiving and patient and kind to him.
Something fell out of her hand- just a tiny sound, a crackle of paper, but he heard it. The blind man reached over- gently, so as not to disturb her any more than necessary- she deserved that much respect at the very least.
The paper was a tiny rectangle, as if it had been ripped out of a book, just to scrawl a message on it.
His thumbs traced over the parchment, feeling the raised texture of the paper itself- but none of the ink. For the first time since meeting Medusa, he cursed his sightlessness. Archelaos’ hands trembled as he dropped the parchment, feeling the supreme insult of the gods as the sun cleared away the clouds and shined on his face, as if it was a good day.
Hands still shaking, he dipped the fingers into the spout of blood still springing from her neck- she’d been bleeding for a while, his clothes soaked through, though he found he couldn’t care less.
Making sure that the fingers were on the left side of her body, he coated them in her blood and brought it up to his mouth, gently sucking the blood off of them.
Feeling the effects immediately, he pushed Medusa’s body off of his- gently, gently, she deserved nothing less- and laid down next to her, capturing her hand in his. Archelaos brought it up to his lips, giving her the kiss that he never could before, and tucked their joined hands in between them.
His sightless eyes stared up at the beautiful sky, the last picture he’d never see, and wondered. What was on that note?
One final word leaked out of his throat before his death sped up to catch him-
“Medusa….”
Written on the note, soon to be forgotten, already torn, were the words, ‘I love you.’
Medusa
Gizmo and I were chatting about Greek myths and the like, and Medusa came up. The spawn of that conversation is above. Did my best to make it sad, not very graphic. But when a god pursues a girl into a temple of a virgin goddess I highly doubt that it was consensual.
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I love the snow.
The beauty of the white crystals that drift down from the sky,
Dancing,
Playing,
Laughing,
Without a care in the world.

I am like the snow.
I twirl, I play, I laugh, I sing, and I don’t let anything stop me.
Words,
Wounds,
Memories,
They don’t matter anymore.

But snow is volatile.
It can bite, rip, tear, howl, cry, cut, damage, and hurt you to your core, all while
Dancing
Singing
Laughing
And I do not have a thought about your feelings.

I am the snow.
Becuase I have a point where I am no longer gentle, and instead,
Vicious,
Monstrous,
Destroying,
All because I don’t want to play nice anymore.

I am the snow
In the realest possible sense, because I don’t care when I get to that point and I turn into
A Blizzard
A Storm
A Knife
Because you didn’t think I could be and pushed me too far.

I love the snow.
It sings and dances and plays, like me, but it will rip you to shreds if you do not prepare for it,
In
A
Second
With no thoughts to you because you had no thoughts to me.
*must do the thing*
Anyway working on Legendary Luna and Origins and I want to do like a promo trailer for Origins but
a) I don't have any kind of budget
b) Most of the characters I want to showcase are not blonde
c) I do not know how to do this kind of thing

And now I shall try to do an animation thing for it because I'm that excited and I also am going to do concept art for a tomb for Listener with watercolors.
Is it apparent I've had a lot of coffee in the past two days? Because I have.
  • Listening to: Pandora
  • Watching: Self Destruction in the form of too much to chew.
  • Playing: With Watercolors
  • Drinking: Coffee duh

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The snow drifted down slowly outside my window, the cold seeping in from the open window. A nurse bustled in, covering the window with the shades and making such a clamor. She talked to me, sickly sweet, like telling a child that doing something is wrong.
Gently, then harshly, she tried to pry the piece of glass from my hands. She just made me grip it harder, making my palm cut deep into itself. It made me smile.
Hastled, she called in two aides, their stark white uniforms marking them as hapless conformers in their work, the only break they had to look forward to was death.
Death. Huh. That’s what it’s all about.
Everything revolves around it. Nothing is eternal, except for suffering and misery. I would tag on the word human to that, but, we have never been eternal. Our ideas are never going to be. It’s a world without meaning, and it’s a world full of hate. Inward, directed at one’s self, your qualities, your feelings. Outward, at the person who got the job over you, the person with their life together, the person with the one you love.
It’s a never ending cycle of hatred, from the moment we breath our first breath of air.
People always told me, ‘You should be grateful you were born into such a life. You could be living anywhere else, but these people had you and they raised you so you should be grateful.’
How can I be grateful for something I didn’t ask for? Something I never wanted?
Honestly, if there was ever a time to be selfish, I would choose it when I was still being formed. I would have saved myself the trouble and not existed then and there.
My wishes are, not exactly to die, but are often to be frozen in time. Simply floating. Asleep, until something good was happening around me and I could feel the sort of happiness that everyone else seemed to feel.
I forgot how to be happy so long ago, I didn’t remember what it felt like. It was a mystery, and so it shall remain.
I clenched my fist around the glass piece as the attendants tried to pry it from me. It would not budge. My will was too strong.
Finally, they just put me on a watch throughout the night, their efforts for naught.
I looked down at my fingertips, a beautiful red, and I felt something bubbling up in my chest. No, not happiness, but perhaps…. Relief? Regret? Sadness?
….. No. It was none of those things.
It was joy.
With the attendant on watch asleep, I smiled for the last time, but, perhaps, for the first real time in my life, and took my chance.
I didn’t regret it.
In fact, I was quite grateful to the world. For allowing me to stop beating at the walls of mortality and time. For letting me end it before I lost my self.
For letting me die.
I am grateful for my death.

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dakatmew's Profile Picture
dakatmew
CeCe
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
I'm dakatmew, but you can call me Cece.
I have depression, and a lot of my poetry is about that, because lately, it's getting harder and harder to even move. If anyone bothers to read this, then thanks, and please read something or commission me to write a story or something. I get bored really easily in the school year.
Ask questions about my work if you have them, and I'll get back to you ASAP.

Lovya Lotz!
CeCe
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:iconsuperandroid18-z-af:
SuperAndroid18-z-af Featured By Owner Aug 6, 2015
Thank you for the group watch 
Reply
:icondakatmew:
dakatmew Featured By Owner Aug 6, 2015  Student Writer
No problem, it's the best pairing.
Reply
:iconsuperandroid18-z-af:
SuperAndroid18-z-af Featured By Owner Aug 6, 2015
Awwww 
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:icondakatmew:
dakatmew Featured By Owner Aug 6, 2015  Student Writer
It's true. You know it.
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconparalyticprocess:
ParalyticProcess Featured By Owner Mar 27, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the watch and the faves! Heart 
Reply
:iconspiritasphodel272:
SpiritAsphodel272 Featured By Owner Mar 10, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Hey Madi.  It's me.  Y'know, the chick who used to be a kitty...
Reply
:icondakatmew:
dakatmew Featured By Owner Mar 10, 2015  Student Writer
Tehe! Of course it is silly! I'm a chipmunk too.
Reply
:iconhawkheart29:
Hawkheart29 Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the fave! :hug:
Reply
:iconderpywinston:
DerpyWinston Featured By Owner Dec 27, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
BBY

BBY HI
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:icondakatmew:
dakatmew Featured By Owner Dec 27, 2014  Student Writer
what.
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