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Gemma

My passion for writing is built from the foundations of marvellous wonder I hold for the intricate art form that is the English Language. I'm a tad socially inept but nonetheless passionate and pretentious

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  • 6 posts
  • Female
  • 01-01-70
  • Living in United Kingdom

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Gemma
Translate   12 years ago

It is an exhilarating feeling when you want nothing more than to be swallowed up by a persons presence- not in the way that the floor would if you were particularly embarrassed but in the way that you constantly hunger for them. You want every aspect of them to mould into every crevice of your mind and absorb their way into your every thought process because they are that brilliant. You want them in full. Unconditionally. Their flaws suddenly become speckles of quirkiness upon the canvas of their #life - the art that it produces is obviously abstract and the interpretation you've mastered is that of astounding brilliance. Just like them. Suddenly everything tiny detail they possess overwhelms you both physically and in their personality, their mannerisms and behaviours are closely scrutinised and adored. That is when lust mets love in a whirlwind of emotion and surprise. Whipping around into a vortex of something new and entirely brilliant - much like them.

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    Gemma
    Translate   12 years ago

    Greatness I have always found that the minor and minute details about a person have been the things that attract me most to them. When someone who doesn't freely divulge information chooses to trust you it means more than that of the latest bit of gossip and I think that is why the current predicament has aroused. Confusion is definitely the biggest factor stirring up my feelings currently but one thing is certain, above all else, he is truly great. Absolutely wonderful.

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      Gemma
      Translate   12 years ago

      #depression - The Goddess He lay there, the giant cavity in his chest was sucking all the oxygen out of the air before he had a chance to breath it in to allow his body to function, he felt his lungs spasm as they clawed against his skin leaving what was left of his insides bleeding. He'd never wanted to die more than now as tears rolled from his face, he willed and wished and hoped for death to cuddle him and take him far away but inside his head was pounding and resonating a complete and utter darkness that was swallowing him whole, yet continuing to make him suffer by drip feeding him the minimum amount of oxygen to keep him barely functioning. "Hello my old friend, we meet again, as I always knew we would." Breathed the vile slime ridden creature in his ear, flicking her greasy black hair as she placed her lips on his and completely engulfed his world once again.

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        Translate   12 years ago

        The Escapism Of A Hopeless Insomniac She lay there and gazed upwards at the spiralling and swirled pattern dancing with fatigue across her ceiling with nothing but him occupying her every thought, her every molecule, her every moment. She longed for him yet at the same time felt a bitter and twisted loathing for him eat away at her directly from the gut. "It's curious," she thought aloud in the darkness, with only the reflections of the street lights from outside her window to warm her room with its radiating orange glow, "that someone can miss another so much, yet want them dead in such similar quantities." It was obvious why, the history the two of them held together was enough to craft a novel a thousand years long, so it was natural to miss the gaping hole that used to be filled with his presence and the hatred came for the person he was around others, always treating them like board games that he had to win and conquer. It repulsed her yet he'd lingered around on her in a very similar fashion not so long ago, how had she been so naive? Her skin crawled with disgust, it felt useless and saggy on her limbs and she felt hideous and used once again, his words circulated her mind whilst her hands ran across her hair as she tugged on it with frustration- why was she still in this state? Her solution back then had been counterproductive and something he had thrown in her face as a reason for him sticking around so long. You can't love someone out of pity, but you can always pretend to. If Freddie Mercury hadn't already claimed the title "The Great Pretender" he would definitely own it and this saddened her because Freddie was great in every sense whereas he was only great in fantasy, great in the way he wove himself as a story to her and so many others, a slightly different variation playing to each figure individually. But who was she kidding? She spent her #life pretending too, so many elements of herself were lost and trapped and morphed by so many things and reasons, particularly since she had stopped punishing herself physically for each individual thing that went wrong, instead her emotions took such a pounding it was a wonder she was still mentally able to function at all. Although, gradually the decay was beginning to become visible, she didn't sleep anymore and when she did was burdened with such a wide spectrum of nightmares that it was often better to just face the consequences of not closing her eyes come nightfall. It was the fault of loneliness of course, that had been something he could cure and he could do it very well. But it was time to move forward and forget, opening the next page of her current book she drew the curtains descending her room into darkness and flicked the switch on her fairy lights until was completely enveloped in a far more peaceful, less crowed and escapist atmosphere of tranquil fantasy.

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          Gemma
          Translate   13 years ago

          Unfortunately I don't know what to do with the memory of you; Burning it feels like three whole years of my #life has just been flushed away, including the good because you were never all bad. Keeping it feels like I am still holding on and trust me I would be happy if I never saw you again, so that really isn't the case, I have been over the you I know now for a long time. It's the fictional you, the one you wove out of nothing, the one that was based on everything you knew would entice me, the one that appealed to my every molecule that I still have a lingering long and lust for. I think you are still aware because how can you hate someone so much, with all the fibres of your being, without having lingering thoughts and feelings. I do hate you though, so I will end up burning these romanticised dreams about who you used to be, because those years have been wasted. Completely wasted on a lie, the lie, of course, being you.

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