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About Literature / Hobbyist EmilyFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 3 Years
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Statistics 17 Deviations 10 Comments 452 Pageviews

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“I like your dress”


It was a beautiful day. The sun hit my skin with no heat, the wind sent only the slightest of kisses, and the clouds had no desire to see my flesh ripple with raised hairs. The leaves crunched pleasantly under my feet, and the glow of day brought forth no glare of excess light to impede the sight of reddened leaves and still-bright grass.


“i like your dress.”


There are flyers to be placed, noting some event some club is hosting somewhere with something attractive in hopes of gaining attendance from someone. I try not to forget to put them up this time.


“I like your dress.”


The shop owners were kind, ready aid our pleas for support. It’s for the children, I say, as I ask local owners to feed college students. We will put your business on a banner, I reassure, because it’s never only just for the children. Although we try. This effort not out of greed but mutual understanding of our effort, their effort, the effort to promote goodness.


“I like your dress.”


He speaks. I turn, but its not to address the speaker. I turn so he may stop looking at his real fixation. I watch his eyes move, dejected, black eyes finally acknowledge my face. Thanks, I say, because I am weak and society denies my right as a human. I turn and glimpse his black eyes drop below my chin and feel my stomach accompanying his gaze.


“I like your dress.”


I go home, cold, with raised goose bumps, and tell my boyfriend that my transition into my oldest pj’s is because they are more comfortable than what I had on.


“I like your dress.”

It's not really a writer's block that halts my work. It's a haze, a thick, soupy mixture that clogs my creativity and makes even a sarcastic quip to be a long, dredged out battle. I have deduced, that it is like a parasitic sloth. It started when I decided to let my creativity slip away unwritten for a day, and it slowly consumed my fingertips, my brain, my heart, until I became who I am now. Burdened with this muck across my back and pressing into me. I'm changed, less bright, a weighed down version of myself. I can only hope that, with this knowledge, I will find a determination deep within me to fight back from my own weakness.
  • Mood: Distracted
  • Listening to: Some 80's playlist


StainedHand's Profile Picture
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
A college kid who likes to write in the small amount of spare time available.

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EnthusiasticArtist Featured By Owner Jan 7, 2013  Student Writer
thanks for the fav:D
samanthakayla Featured By Owner Nov 13, 2012
Welcome to dA! (:
StainedHand Featured By Owner Nov 18, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Thank You!:)
TV-OMEGA Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
thank you so much for the :+fav:
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