My chakras are blocked. I can get one across but not four down.
Jesus fanfic where the resurrection is Jesus trying to get out of paying child support to Mary Magdalene.
“It’s not the tunnels under closed WalMart stores you need to worry about, but the ones under the open ones. The ones connected to all other hypercentres and big-box stores. Because of what will happen when the pattern is completed. Oh, you think there is no pattern, do you? Compile a list of products these stores won’t sell, the ones they’d rather didn’t exist at all. Then you’ll be closer to understanding what the glyph they are making is for.”
They say that if you live in a glass house you should not throw stones. It may be more prudent to ask some piercing questions of the real estate agent who sold it to you.
Everyone told him to slow down, that the race wasn’t always to the fastest, that life itself wasn’t a race. But each hurried step and cardio workout told another story, wove another tale. The lazy, he’d say, don’t get promoted, and he would smile and everyone would shake their heads and believe him and almost no one knew he moved so fast because he thought Death was always behind him and that, when the time came, he would run even from that.
“I was scared. That’s why I fell in love with you, why I couldn’t stop myself. Because love is wonderful and stupefying and beautiful in all the ways and shapes of the world. But it shifts and changes as we change, as the world changes. It isn’t constant. It’s not forever. But to not have it at all, to be so brave I wouldn’t subject you to such a shifting wildness of my heart? I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t that brave. The world wouldn’t let me be that brave.
“I guess what I’m saying is that you don’t need to get me flowers for mother’s day.”
This post is gluten-free.
“I am sorry,” he said, as though words could answer tears. “I am sorry you had to find out this way. But there is a reason I never show up in lists of recommended blogs, mother.”
“I used to be scared of you. Of every lie I had to tell in order to bring a smile to your face.”
“We used to be so much more than this. Before we became gods. Now everything is larger – feelings, desires, wishes. We are so much more than human and yet. And yet I feel less without all those petty fears driving me onward to my own destruction. A curious thing, is it not? Hardly enough to make me set aside my power, but it is very curious that a part of me wants to be so small again and mistakes a that for strength.”
This is not the sext you are looking for.
“I curse you,” the witch had said, “to never speak another cliche at all.”
The next day, you asked me if I loved you.
If we treated each other as if there were no gods to fall back on and nothing after this life at all then we could live in the best of all possible worlds.
“If you really loved me, you’d make me into a #hashtag.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then you should never have said hello.”
The scars you did not leave me ache only under moonlight.
The doctor claims they are stitches, but you know the truth: with each stitch removed, a new demon of pain would be born in the world. And you cannot bear to let this happen. Better by far the stitches melt into your skin than some new pain be born.The doctor claims they are stitches, but you know the truth: with each stitch removed, a new demon of pain would be born in the world. And you cannot bear to let this happen. Better by far the stitches melt into your skin than some new pain be born.
Love may make the world go round, but hate is the glue that holds it together.
They said: take our words and write them down, that mankind might know the sacred truth. And, Oh, I did, and gave them away that the whole world might understand – but you turned them into memes. You turned the salvation the aliens offered into memes. I do not know what they will do now. I just do not know.
I didn’t mean what happened. I think, as it stands, I get drunk on your anger.
"You're making too much noise! It's seven a.m. and --."
"We're moving. So you can kiss my strata fees."
Everything a magician learns is a teaching of themselves.
“Oh, my back! My back! I can’t get up!”
“Revered Teacher, is this a meditation on the futility of belonging to material things?”
“No it damn well isn’t! Get me some drugs now!”
There is a secret page on Wikipedia that lists the death dates for every living person. It has never been wrong yet. The only protection is to never be famous enough to have your own Wikipedia page.
“We’re not going through getting a dog again, not after last time. I’d rather one of our kids died instead.”
“I used to be terrified of your words. Now all that scares me is your silences.”
I keep forgetting there is a price tag attached to every compliment you give out.
Everything was hard. The conversations at work his mother and father had never prepared him for turned out to be the worse. There would be discussions of dentists, and chiropractors, and family doctors. Kids with colds, flues, hay fever. And he listened, but could not participate. Did not understand. He would tell people his home was cold, if they asked why he didn’t shiver, and no one knew he meant his fortress in the arctic. He made up stories about his diet to explain why he never took a sick day.
And he took to flying longer. To be noticed. To not dodging the missiles the military fired at him so quickly. But at best there was pressure, or bruises that didn’t hurt at all. Pain was for those who could feel pain, for those who were not invulnerable. He looked human, but he knew he was alien. That he’d arrived by rocket in Kansas. And he never felt more alien than when Lois cut her finger on paper and he realized he had no idea what his own blood even looked like.
“It’s your fault. If you hadn’t raised me, I would be like this. I wouldn’t do things like this. The ropes are so tight because you made me join the Boy Scouts. It’s all your fault.”
“Is this ethical?”
“I don’t see why not: we need to know how effectively the prisoners are being tortured.”
“But a Fitbit on each of them?”
Sometimes it feels as though the whole world is a corrupted user interface.
“I don’t care if your father invented the time machine, a dinosaur is NOT an acceptable aid animal.”
“Don’t you ever stop to wonder at what passes for sanity within the confines of your own head?”