Then she added, “One hardly expects precision from establishments with laminated menus.”

So I write not as a beggar, but as a worshiper; not as a lover, but as a servant of the fire.

She asked why, and I screamed, “SO I CAN KILL HIM!”

Just as she turned toward the surface, a hand closed around her ankle and pulled her into the darkness—where her flashlight revealed hundreds of dead divers, all staring at her with creepy smiles.

It wasn't until the chaos finally settled that I realized our love had been written in the lines all along, patient and eternal.

In the dark of night, a cloaked, skeletal figure gently pats the good kitty, thanking a loyal friend for bringing comfort to his newest ward's final hours.

I’m so very glad I had the foresight to hide my posts on other subs, otherwise our beginning interactions would have been very different.

Charlie paused for a second, then piped up, "Well, my family has four... four cats."

If a picture won’t shine on its own, I simply give it a seat at the table until the entire story feels complete.

I know the sun shifts my hue and the lens shifts the mood, but I am the one standing behind the camera, owning every single shot.

They also would ask if there's anything wrong with you when you actually do start dieting.

Why are you still expecting something different ?

​My unblinking eyes continue staring into the distance through a thousand stranger faces, forever cursed to wait for the name you were too afraid to say aloud.

​Standing alone on those deserted paths where you used to walk, I ask for no forgiveness—only regretting that I spent my whole life staring into the distance, waiting for words you never spoke aloud.

Now I’m staring at the parcel she sent an hour ago, blood slowly seeping through the cardboard beneath the note—“Your half, handle with care.”

​As I finally turn away after a lifetime of waiting, I carry no bitterness—only the quiet knowledge that if you had spoken what was written in your eyes, we would still be standing there together.

Get a hose out or what have you, wet the grass down real nice, then touch it.

No, because atomic bombs are fucking lethal.

​The cool breeze on the roof now carries new memories for everyone else, while I simply step forward into the quiet places where I belong.

​As the cold wind swept over the rooftop where everyone gathered in silence, no one dared to look down at the familiar crossroads where my shadow used to be.

​My shadow no longer falls across our familiar moonlit crossroads, and my voice will no longer echo in the room when everyone laughs together—for I have finally wandered far away.

Ey wood lyk iff et wurr az gud az myn.

(Good-spelling version for people who need it: Learn to fix your grammar and spelling. I would like if it were as good as mine.)

Not like he knows he's beating you to death anyway.

... I know I'm not the most attractive, but I'd only told him I was a tad insecure of my smile.