Warning Signs

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I always thought I was so smart, that I’d never fall victim to anything. I’d never end up falling for a scam, never be tricked into giving away my money, and never end up in a bad relationship. However, despite how wise and all-knowing I like to think I am, to say I’m ‘too smart’ is simply not true. After all, while I may not have been gullible enough to send my contact information to a Nigerian Prince, I have, in fact, been involved in a terrible and abusive relationship. I know that contradicts everything about my dating life that I’ve posted about so far, but I really only realized how bad it actually was about a week ago.

Maybe I’ll go into details about that later. Maybe I won’t. But I know that there are millions of people around the world just like me, like both my parents and a lot of the friends I have – who have been, or are in the middle of being taken advantage of. Look, I figured out this was going on after about a year and a half. My dad didn’t clue in for nine whole years. As I’ve learned, no one’s immune.

So I’ve decided to make a bit of a list of the warning signs to look for in your own relationships. Not that knowing this list will make you any less vulnerable, but at least you’ve got a bit of a tool in your back pocket, as it were. I wish I had known this before all the trash went down, but maybe it might help someone else.

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Song I’m Never Actually Going to Finish

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Scars of Gold – wip 

Verse 1 – play first and second part together
I miss the way you used to look at me
As if I were the most important
And your eyes held all the intensity of love
But then I had to watch you fade from me
Feel the ice cold of your gaze
It froze me solid
Stopped the blood in my veins That I could go from being someone’s treasure
To a half developed thought

There’s no such thing as closure
When one day you just stopped
Without explanation
But you still kiss me like there’s no tomorrow
Like I’m the only light you see
And I don’t get it
I don’t get it
Where the hell are you leaving me?

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Finding Yourself – Thanks for the Post, Love.

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Written by my delightful Dylan. Thanks for being so honest and sharing what you’re going through. 

Recently I got out of a toxic relationship. It’s complicated to say what we actually were, so we’ll just call them The Ex.

 They played with me and manipulated me until I was someone who I didn’t recognize looking in the mirror. After I got rid of them, trying to look at myself again was difficult. The amount of self hate I suffer with is difficult. It effects everything, how I wake up in the morning, how I get dressed, how I do my makeup. I can’t even sit comfortably anymore, trying to keep my shoulders drawn in and my thighs touching so I take up less room. I couldn’t listen to the same music they did either. Everything in my life was them.

 So I changed my life. I changed my music and changed the video games I played. I even changed the clothes I wore.

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Creative Writing Project – Mood Setting

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The lights went out. The entire tent was cast into darkness – the kind of inky blackness that you couldn’t help but lose yourself to. It stretched its empty hands into everything, cold and unapologetic, like smoke, relentlessly flooding everything it touched.

Not a soul stirred, and the silence was just as heavy and enveloping as the dark. Wait for a breath, pause long enough for another few, and sit in the nothingness.

The faint smell of smoke wafted through the air, just strong enough to be noticed, but only obvious in the way that a sound is made apparent in a dream – softly, almost imagined, and not altogether real.

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There is Always Hope

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Let me tell you guys a bit of a story here.

When I was a kid, I remember crying in my room because I had to grow up without a close family around me. I had trouble watching children’s shows because they always depicted a mother and a father living in the same house. Grandparent’s day was a huge trigger for me, so much so that I used to have a friend’s grandma adopt me for the day. Say nothing about Father’s Day. I learned to lie and hide things from people by the time I was six or seven. I learned how to figure people out so I could get exactly what I needed from them without having to ask. I gave up ever relying on anyone else.

This once, I was staying with a friend’s family. We had all gone on a trip together or something. I think I was fourteen or fifteen? I didn’t have a lot of money on me, so when we stopped at a restaurant for dinner, I barely ordered anything. At the end of the meal, my friend’s dad turned to me and paid for my meal. I had to fight back my tears because I felt so unaccustomed to being welcomed in to anywhere – especially a family setting.

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Hope the Writer’s Life Goes Well

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The world is dark.

There is nothing. Nothing to exist, nothing to be – an empty void of all things forsaken and lost. Shadows like figures and shapes dance in the emptiness, their cries and voices unable to be heard through the blank canvas they have been painted on. Through the gloom, nonexistence runs rampant like a disease, infecting everything. It is quick to overwhelm all sense of being – thoughts, feelings, individuality – until all things have been consumed by it.

It leaves no survivors.

And the shadows who find themselves as spectors in the darkness become the very thing they dread the most. They breathe in the black film and murkiness of the thick air, feel the poison slowly creeping throughout their indistinguishable shapes, and they become one together. They become nothing, and they cease to exist amidst the soundless noise of the all-consuming sickness.

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You Can Write A Novel In Three Days!?

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You must be absolutely insane!

Two years ago now, I entered this writing contest. I was so excited about it. I had been planning it for months, spending countless hours preparing, and when it reached time to start, I went into that thing full swing.

The point of the contest was to complete a novel in three days. Now, the judges of this contest knew the novels would be short, unedited, and, frankly, crap. It was mostly for the fun of it, I think. The thrill of the challenge. Not doing anything for three whole days but writing. I barely ate, barely slept, and every waking moment was spent locked up in my room, rapidly typing away at my keyboard.

It was amazing. That was the moment, when I submitted this junky novel to this contest, that I felt like I was a writer for the first time in my life. I had accomplished something incredible, possibly one of the most incredible things in my life. It’s not the point that my novel didn’t place and I can’t read it back without wanting to cry, but the fact that I did it.

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When All the World is At Your Fingertips…

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… You Stay At Home More Often Than Not.

I’ve been living in a small town for just about a week now. And by small town, I mean the no-streetlights type of community where you might expect a teenager to spend time at their grandparent’s over the summer and meet the love of their life. If life were a movie, that is. I spent the majority of the time up in our cabin with Dad, since I haven’t seen him in a few months. Now, however, I am at my grandparents. Cliche, I know.

It’s day four, and I’m not sure how long I’m going to be here for. To be honest, I don’t know much of anything at this point.

One thing I have picked up on though, is this overwhelming sense of community. I know I’ve only been here for a few days, and although I’ve been coming here since I was a youngling, I’ve never gotten involved much with the locals around here. I hate meeting new people, remember?

Or rather, I just dislike people. Socializing is fun, I lie through my tears.

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I Am Jane Doe

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I’ve been abused throughout my life. Not sexually, no, and I’m extremely thankful for that. Both my parents and many people I know, however, haven’t been so lucky.

I have been, however, a victim of being a girl. It seems I can’t leave the house without being catcalled, and that’s not an exaggeration. I have had multiple people growing up base my value on sex instead of who I actually am. I decided to wear a cute tank top I just bought when I was thirteen years old, only to struggle with ever wearing it again because I caught old men checking me out. I’ve been too scared to date anyone in case they attempt to force me into things I’m not comfortable with. Walking in the dark freaks me out, and I can’t pass anyone while walking home without planning out a strategy for how to get away from them in case I’m attacked. In fact, I started making plans for these things before I was even thirteen years old – before I really knew what rape even was. I’ve watched countless documentaries and stories on males and females alike being sexually abused, and it’s so integrated into our culture, one of my best friends is legitimately scared to keep her car doors unlocked when she’s driving because human trafficking is such a big issue.

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