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Literature
This is forever
My darling, he said. My darling, my darling, my darling... Won’t you come with me?

there is a dark shadow over me. it is suffocating me, telling me i cannot live if i do not live by the rules.
every time i try to break away, it fools me for a few days, maybe weeks if i'm lucky, letting me think i'm free, but in the end, it confines me again in its small cage, telling me my time isn't up yet.
when is time up? when will i be able to fly out of that cage, as delicate as i've ever wanted to be?
i am not one to decide over my own life anymore. it is as if i'm in an abusive relationship, only in this case it makes me look like the crazy one.
i wish i could do something to help this. is it possible to clean one's mind and soul? is it possible to plant only good thoughts into your brain? is it possible to make this go away and let it only be a distant memory?

My darling, he says. My darling, my darling, my darling... Don't you know I'll
:iconMaryAuksi:MaryAuksi
:iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 1 3
Literature
i fell.
i walk,
and i walk,
and i walk,
and suddenly?
i
f
a
l
l
.
just fall.
out of nowhere, my feet go weak,
or they trip over something, and i'm already on the ground.
what baffles me is that i don't get up; not for a very long time at least.
maybe some day i will.
i don't know that yet,
but i do know that i do not get up right now.
i stay on the ground, consumed by the dust and hurt around me, wondering where have i gotten myself into this time. but somehow, it all seems so inviting.
the hurt seems to be saying that i can do even better;
i don't think i really let myself know it's bad.
or maybe i don't seem to care. the only thing worth caring over now is letting it all get bigger.
i have to do it again.
i have to find away to feel it again. and when i do, i can't just do exactly what i did before, because that's not enough anymore.
i need to do more, now that i'm a bit more experienced in this.
i need to do more, so i could hurt more, because it's interesting;
it's new, and i'm too curious
:iconMaryAuksi:MaryAuksi
:iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 0 0
Literature
The sea.
I've always thought of the sea as a place of wonder:
its waves are magical,
its colour inviting,
and its breeze harsh on us.
It rocks us from side to side,
playing with us,
having complete power over us.
Many of us try to fight it, but it's most always of no use -
it is,
(and always will be),
too strong to conquer,
and the only option is to let it use us as its toys for however long it desires to.
When, if ever,
it decides it's done,
we get thrown away;
either back into the harshness of the world,
or, if it'd really harmed us,
to the soft seabed,
as if an apology for all the bruises it'd caused us.
Either way,
the end is near.
(and if we'd only known that in the beginning, we'd never have gone in)
:iconMaryAuksi:MaryAuksi
:iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 0 0
black light. :iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 2 0
Literature
The making-up of a lie.
As soon as you hear the three little words, you look around;
you get nervous;
your fidgeting gets even more extreme than it already had been.
You look around;
you make sure no one hears your whispers;
it-is-okay-it-is-okay-you-just-have-to-say-something-they-will-believe-it-is-okay-do-not-worry.
You look around, make sure no one is still around;
fix your hair;
smile;
and go towards the sounds.
Do-not-screw-it-up-this-is-your-only-chance-be-strong-you-can-do-it consumes your mind before entering;
you smile;
four words slip out of your mouth and you are sure to kill yourself if your stomach makes a sound while you're there;
you reason with your mom;
and go back to your sacred place.
The whisper of see-that-was-not-so-hard in your mind speaks the truth;
because making up a lie has never been this easy.
:iconMaryAuksi:MaryAuksi
:iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 1 0
Literature
Faster.
Faster, faster, you tell to your feet.
Faster, faster, this is not enough.
Faster, faster,
the world spins around.
Faster, faster, you fall to the ground.
Faster, faster, you tell to your mind.
Faster, faster, make up a lie.
Faster, faster, before they notice.
Faster, faster, avoid the food, avoid it.
Faster, faster,
you tell to your heart.
Faster, faster, you're way too slow.
Faster, faster,
thump-thump, thump-thump.
Faster, faster, don't you dare to stop.
:iconMaryAuksi:MaryAuksi
:iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 0 0
Literature
.snap-snap-snap.
She hated those little snaps;
the sigh of do-not-talk-to-me;
those judgmental looks of just-leave-me-alone-already-you-are-pissing-me-off-you-are-annoying-just-stop-already;
a little rant about how-do-you-not-know-you-should-know-you-are-supposed-to-know-you-were-supposed-to-(bring-that-back)-(know-that-name)-(do-that-thing)-(just-get-the-fuck-out-of-my-face).
She was hearing scissors non-stop in her brain;
*snap-snap-snap*
*snap-snap-snap*
*snap*
She would forget some;
the mosquito bites;
she would know the others ten years later;
still letting her get hurt; a ten-year-old sigh-look-rant was all it took;
to make her cry;
hate;
feel the anger burning inside her;
it didn't fade;
she never laughed.
:iconMaryAuksi:MaryAuksi
:iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 2 0
Literature
Flowing
I need to write. I need to write. I need to write.
The words were supposed to be flowing out of her, dancing in front of her;
they were supposed to be f l o            w i n               g;
like they were a part of a cold, windy day;
part of the ocean, of all the waves;
part of all those people who rushed past you at lunch hour, all those people, because if they were a minute late, it would all be wrong.
It would be l a t e r;
but l a t e r meant leftovers, those nasty little cabbage pies you get when you arrive late, instead of the delicious mincemeat pie or that heavenly strawberry pie;
no one wants a damp bread, stuffed with cold cabbage;
no one wants to be the one who arrives l a t e r.
The words know this;
they f l o         w and f l o        w and f l o
:iconMaryAuksi:MaryAuksi
:iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 1 0
Literature
Numb.
Sitting in the corner of her room, rocking herself to a state somewhere between sleep and awake, dead and alive, she's almost there;
the thoughts don't make any sense;
the breathing has calmed down;
the eyes have been fixated on her knees for so long she doesn't even know what she's looking at anymore;
the feeling still remains.
The feeling of wow-i-remember-what-it-used-to-be-like-looking-at-all-of-them-wondering-howcouldthey-howcouldthey-howcouldthey mixed with the feeling of now-she-is-looking-at-all-that-is-left-of-me-wondering-howcanshe-howcanshe-howcanshe;
the mixed up feeling once again getting mixed up with another feeling;
it-is-wrong-wrong-wrong-it-is-wrong;
and another;
it-is-okay-it-is-fine-it-will-be-fine-you-can-do-it-do-not-bail-on-us-now-we-have-come-so-far-just-a-little-more-more-more-a-little-more-please.
She tries to zone out the feelings, thinking that rocking will help;
looking at her knees will help;
thinking of nothing except babbles w
:iconMaryAuksi:MaryAuksi
:iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 2 2
Literature
She's hurting today.
It just doesn't seem right;
doesn't seem fair;
doesn't seem like her life anymore; now that it's open to see;
open to stare at and judge and sigh and argue at.
It feels wrong;
so very, very, very wrong; that she feels that way;
that she could even let her guard down like that;
that she didn't think of all the sneakiness in the world;
all the sneakiness, so very ready to open up all the drawers of her past and present and future and just lay it all out;
the sneakiness opened up the drawers to her mind, to her thinking, to her inner self, to something that wasn't supposed to exist in this world;
this pure and pretty and safe world, filled with pretty and pure and perfect things.
There was supposed to be no outcast;
she couldn't blame them;
couldn't feel like an outcast, because there was no outcast;
everyone was exactly the same;
there wasn't supposed to be a glitch, an imperfect little thing, a dirty secret;
an ugly secret.
:iconMaryAuksi:MaryAuksi
:iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 1 0
Literature
Sparkle
She looked at all the children and teenagers that were gathered up around the fake Christmas tree. She couldn't really see their exact features in candlelight, just that they looked relatively happy that Christmas was here again and that right now, everything was good, just as it was supposed to be.
There was still some shuffling, some hadn't arrived yet, some parents hadn't had the time to put their presents below the tree yet. She waited. She knew it would take some time until everyone was ready, and she was willing to take that time, as she didn't want any of the kids to be sad, even if they only missed one chord of her song.
After all, she was who most of them had wanted, at least according to the large package she had received on her address about a month ago. Opening it from the wrong side, the klutz that she was, she could see all the cards spill out, cards that  had many-many people drawn on it, one of them often being Santa, and another one often being her.
It
:iconMaryAuksi:MaryAuksi
:iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 0 2
Literature
The Buzz
"Mom, something is buzzing!" She heard her daughter shout out from the car. With a sigh, she picked up the youngest of them and returned.
"Oh... That's my phone... John, can you please search for my bag?"
"What kind of bag?"
"The black handbag. I think it's in the back." She finished and couldn't hear it anymore. I guess we'll talk later, then.
After an hour into the drive, Miriam became snappy. "Yeah, yeah, Andre, of course it looks pretty... Whatever." She heard her husband sigh and bore with his questions about her mood. I just want to get there already.. Why does it have to take so long?! Ugh... We should've taken the highway, not this road. We could be there faster. I do not want to look at ranches and listen to my daughter about her plans to marry an Aussie guy so she could live in a ranch in Australia. I want to BE THERE already. Is it that impossible to understand? And besides, it's not about me, it's Joseph. He doesn't like sitting for so long. He might be sleeping n
:iconMaryAuksi:MaryAuksi
:iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 0 2
Literature
Too old.
Magnificent.
Those nights were magnificent. That's what they were, what they still are sometimes.
Those nights when you could just lie on the bed, giggling, serious, or crying. Maybe all those three.
Are we too old now? Too old to feel both fear and great excitement when the storms came? Too old to be able and wanting to confess those 'dark little secrets' that really were just crushes or gossip we'd heard on street? Did we forget the innocence, or did it disappear, slowly fading away? Maybe we wanted to forget it; maybe we wanted to go different ways. After all, it started to seem silly to us to listen to the storms when we grew. It started to seem silly to confess to ourselves that the storms scared us to death sometimes; the other confessions got too personal to give them away. It got too intimate when we grew.
We grew too old; didn't we?
:iconMaryAuksi:MaryAuksi
:iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 0 0
Literature
Daddy?
She looked sad. "I broke it." A shrug like it was no big deal.
Still, she looked sad. Because she knew. She always knew. She knew.
He'd pull her from the hair;
Push her against the cupboard;
Push her so hard she'd fall;
Kick her;
Drag her;
Pick her up ever so lightly;
Say words to her;
She knew. He had always done so. He would always do so.
"Daddy does it because he loves me." She looked around. It was suddenly so dark.
"Daddy?"
:iconMaryAuksi:MaryAuksi
:iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 1 3
NANA Screencap Meme :iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 3 0
Literature
I can't.
“Stop it!” She cried out. “You don’t understand anything of me!”
He stared at her, unsure of what to do. Was there anything to do? Was there anything to fix, anything to make better? Why couldn’t he be the kind of person who would’ve never waited for so long; the kind of person who would’ve done something, anything, a long time ago? That kind of person wouldn’t have thought he was mistaking, he wouldn’t of thought she’d heal on her own.
Because the truth was, she couldn’t, wouldn’t heal on her own.
“I’m sorry.” His apology came out fraught. He didn’t understand, he knew he didn’t. All he wanted to do was find someone who could and while doing that, he had made it so much worse.
“You don’t get to tell anyone about me or my problems!” She wouldn’t stop yelling. He didn’t want her to yell at him. He wanted to help.
“It’s my problem and my problem only!
:iconMaryAuksi:MaryAuksi
:iconmaryauksi:MaryAuksi 0 0

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Activity


deviantID

MaryAuksi
Maria
Artist
Estonia
Caught up in many wor(l)ds.

Current Residence: Little Estonia.
deviantWEAR sizing preference: Small.
Favourite cartoon character: Both Nana's from "NANA".
Personal Quote: Yesterday and Tomorrow always seem better than Today.
Interests
i'll find inside your eyes.
  • Listening to: "Sweet Child O'Mine" by Taken by Trees
  • Reading: "Everything is illuminated" - Jonathan S

Comments


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:iconcarvingbackbone:
carvingbackbone Featured By Owner Oct 1, 2010  Student General Artist
thank you so much for your constant support and for the recent faves, dear :huggle:
:heart::heart:
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:iconcarvingbackbone:
carvingbackbone Featured By Owner Mar 20, 2010  Student General Artist
thank you sweetly for the fave :hug:
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:iconmaryauksi:
MaryAuksi Featured By Owner Mar 21, 2010
you're welcome :)
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:iconfossadeileoni:
fossadeileoni Featured By Owner Jan 6, 2010
thank you for the fave :)
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:iconmaryauksi:
MaryAuksi Featured By Owner Mar 21, 2010
you're welcome :)
(and i'm sorry this is so incredibly late! i cannot believe i didn't see this xD)
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:iconnina-kore:
nina-kore Featured By Owner Jan 5, 2010
Thank you for the :+fav:. I appreciate it.
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:iconmaryauksi:
MaryAuksi Featured By Owner Mar 21, 2010
you're very welcome :)
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:iconcarvingbackbone:
carvingbackbone Featured By Owner Dec 24, 2009  Student General Artist
thank you dearly for the fave :hug:
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:iconmaryauksi:
MaryAuksi Featured By Owner Dec 24, 2009
you're very welcome :hug:
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:iconneurotripsy:
neurotripsy Featured By Owner Nov 25, 2009  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the Fav! :)
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