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Delaney

My name is Delaney.

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  • 01-01-70
  • Vivre dans United Kingdom

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Delaney
Traduire   12 années depuis

Dark I have always been a dark personality. You could put me in a clown suit, and surround me with bright people, but yet it was still very apparent I didn't belong. At at an adolescent age of 10 I had already aspired to be a coroner. The cutting of newly expired flesh had always intrigued me. In biology we where promised a dissection at the end of the year. As you would expect I was so, very excited! Months ,weeks, and days passed. After what seemed like a #lifetime of waiting my chance finally erupted. We where explained safety, and what we where expected to see. She dismissed us to the lab. I jumped up from my seat with a shimmer in my eye! I went to my pig, looked her in the eye, and said "I can't wait to open you up.." We tied her and they handed me the scalpel. I slid it down her torso, and peeled away the skin. The smell of Formaldehyde rose in a thick cloud from its innards. My head grew light and empty feeling. After staggering to the opposite side of the table, desperately searching for a stool. My neck fell limp onto the table. I slid off the table as if I where a puppet being cut from its string. I hit the ground only seeing a monochrome black. The other student proceeded to scream and try to help me. I couldn't see, but somehow managed to get back to me feet. My vision returned, and the teacher sent me to the nurse. It was there that I was told I was allergic to Formaldehyde. My hopes, and dreams where crushed by her lips and voice coinciding to form such horrible words. Me, the gothic girl, with big black platform boots, black lipstick, and a large abundance of eyeliner, am allergic to embalming fluid. I can no longer pursue my dreams, and I am lost in this murky being. I guess it's time to tie my childhood into a bow and throw it out. It deeply saddens me. To even say this. Back to the drawing board.

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    Delaney
    Traduire   12 années depuis

    Two In One I am mentally Ill. I don't know what's wrong with me but I fear medication and therapy. I have two people living inside me. They fight day after wretched day. They don't have different names, although I'm seriously considering it! My dominate side is what my friends see and hear. It is generally sweet, giving, and open minded. Then there is my other me. She is mean, cruel, abusive, and an all around bully. She yells and degrades the other me. They bicker like enemies. Can they even get along? I doubt it. I'll call my bad me, Tart, for now. Tart has hurt me physically and verbally. She makes me hit my head on the walls. She curses and enjoys seeing me (as well as others) suffer. I don't deserve the non-imaginary friends I have. Tart has hurt them too, and they don't even know about her. I get wild stares everywhere I go. She is relentless! She makes me whisper things out Loud in public. I hate her, but she is a part of me. I'm not complete without her. This is my true story.

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      Delaney
      Traduire   12 années depuis

      Guard Rail Hi, my name is Delaney. I am 15. I live with my mother. My father lives in another state. I love anime and have an awkward obsession with horror. Today my story really began. When I was seven I witnessed a man on a motorcycle fall off an overpass and die instantly. That image has never left my mind. I revolve around it. I live for horror. I make horror makeup of wounds and torn flesh.. I never knew that man. He was just another victim of fate. As I said before my #life began today. A matter of a few hours ago my step father died. He was riding his motorcycle far above the speed limit. There was a sharp turn. He didn't turn fast enough. His death was instantaneous. He hit the guard rail and snapped his neck. After being pronounced dead at exactly 12:45 on the scene. he was automatically transported to the morgue. There he lies. Still fresh, wounds still raw. So surreal. I am sitting in the hot stairwell, out of sight. The officer is speaking with my mother, just around the corner. It feels like a a tragic movie. I wait in the shadow, listening intently to the details of the gruesome departure of a beloved relative. I haven't a clue where my #life will go. My mum is poor. A mere teacher. She can't care for us alone. Wish me luck!

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      MysticalDragon

      Aww Im so sorry good luck 😰🐳🍧
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      Delaney

      Thank you
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