@17katie now I readily admit I'm wrong once I know for certain I am. Unless of its with my parents. If I do one thing wrong I'm suddenly incapable as a person.

Putting all serious blanks in the possibility of time travel, I will say that I'd travel to the only period safe for humanity ' s sake: the future.

@MillieBee yes. But it was the type of person that honestly was mentally slow which is not a problem it's just that they never realize they do anything wrong. You have to point out their mistake down to a T and even then they will argue that they did nothing.
Any way I took the toxic route and gave the broody silent treatment. We made up after I wrote a letter that explained everything (and three back to back pages covered everything and more).

But after a few more same incidents it hit me that we were not only different (which sometimes is what makes a friendship) but we could never see eye to eye because I was ahead of that person by milestones in awareness (not a brag, actually sucks) and that person could never change his/her way of thought because of fear.

Now we still chat occasionally but we drifted apart. Man. Sorry if I went off topic.

Back when I wrote stories in the years 2016-19, I used to sketch some of the characters. This is a half-blood demon character I'd created for my Power Within series I never actually got to writing. The first is in 2018, and the second is a redraw in 2020, earlier this year.
I realize most of what I am now is a celebration of what I once was.

@James-C-137 I had no idea was I was getting myself into.

But I'm glad I did now.

@Rissa_TheBest it all depends on the extent to which society has influenced your upbringing. Without succumbing to the freedom of openmindedness everything you see, everything you say, everything you will ever do are through the eyes mouths and body of whatever controls you. "with these eyes I am my father" goes the phrase I just invented (lol).
Your case of a relationship with the man and child isnt wrong IMO. however you would question it since the norm has taught you to do so. and at your very core you cant help it. (this is a general you)

My life at fourteen years was a blur because I was on a creative writing high. I don't remember living it so much as guiding it. In this stage of my life I'd written my First complete literary composition, a narrative saga called All the Broken Sunrises.
Here I am to either weekly or daily post successive parts of that narrative. How it is recieved will govern if I continue.
It's a very personal work that I now realize was subconsciously telling me things a bout myself, so I hope it gives you an idea of how my 14yr old mind worked.
Btw, it is set in the distant future and so I'd invented a few words.

Part One

Prologue

The voices spoke as if there were no hovering
ears in the fore and the back.
The first was that of cold-lipped father,
the second of a white-faced stranger
(his visage I could not see).
Their discourse met me not in its entirety.

“I am wont to leave him be.” said father.

-Although, to solidate* him
while the thread of his shirt unravels
is wrong.

-You know nothing.

-He is rousted?

-I am unaware to his state, but often
he sits with dawn for moments –
flickers as ashes aglow –
then descends in an hour.
It might now be the afterfall*.

-He’s yet holding the roots.

-He’s yet yanking them.

-But the sap is green.

-The leaves are fallen.

-The ground is lively.

-It is frozen.

-The case shouldn’t be prepped.

-This should be made, polished.

-Have you no wish for succession?

-It is one’s succession
that braids the other’s rope.

-Have you the rope?

-I have.

-Have you the succession?

-I have.

-As long?

-… I have.

-Throw where least the cattle.

-I threw the bone and fed the beasts.

-Why must you tarry the suffering
when it is a cup with fire to the brim?

-I will guard my fires and dampen the pain.

-But he is your educated page.

-A page he says.

-A page, yes.

-I haven’t a leaf.
The winter is cold and my heart it is fatigued.

-Have yet the heart
for the blood of thy betrothed.

-I haven’t a half else, I haven’t a leaf.
All is passed, all is wasted.
I am in remorse for ghosts.
Thy purpose is told.

-I shall lead him?

-He should be surveyed.
The doe collapses shortly
by toxin of dragons.

-I shall lead, then, thy ghosts—

-Silence, the grave is entombed.

         TO BE CONTINUED

come here to talk. no perverts and creeps.

Gave me goosebumps

@Indrid-Cold sorry to reply so late.
Talk. Just talk. Like what are you views on blind hate to a standing figure without even knowing it. Like your views on agnosticism. That stuff

Happens on every one On one chat site. It's quite annoying actually

@Rissa_TheBest it all depends on the extent to which society has influenced your upbringing. Without succumbing to the freedom of openmindedness everything you see, everything you say, everything you will ever do are through the eyes mouths and body of whatever controls you. "with these eyes I am my father" goes the phrase I just invented (lol).
Your case of a relationship with the man and child isnt wrong IMO. however you would question it since the norm has taught you to do so. and at your very core you cant help it. (this is a general you)

@mikeJB I don't think I missed the point, I think you missed the picture.
What did I do in your eyes? Defend the MALE abusers?!
No! I simply stated that people (and I will say this: female AND male for your benefit) ARE WEAK. they are. And the abusers are weak. The whole goddam universe is weak. And dont be so weak yourself so as to drive away any point that says otherwise.
Have a productive day.

@MillieBee yes. But it was the type of person that honestly was mentally slow which is not a problem it's just that they never realize they do anything wrong. You have to point out their mistake down to a T and even then they will argue that they did nothing.
Any way I took the toxic route and gave the broody silent treatment. We made up after I wrote a letter that explained everything (and three back to back pages covered everything and more).

But after a few more same incidents it hit me that we were not only different (which sometimes is what makes a friendship) but we could never see eye to eye because I was ahead of that person by milestones in awareness (not a brag, actually sucks) and that person could never change his/her way of thought because of fear.

Now we still chat occasionally but we drifted apart. Man. Sorry if I went off topic.

@mikeJB I am worried that you are blinded by your own experiences that you fail to see what you are doing. Just to be clear this is not an attack, just some constructive criticism and a general opinion.

You see, I see A LOT of hatred in you which is ideally reserved for the serious fuck ups like (according to you) your father. And you take this platform to spread the word and make people more aware of the type of evil in the world, a pretence I find not generally wrong. But in response to your various statements:
Yes women are naive and so are men. Both are so immaculately weak to the greatest extend. But you should not take it that it is their fault. Why do you desire to discuss this topic? Because you have experienced it.
Marty in Shiloh only tried fighting the cruelties he discovered existed because they happened to fall in his lap, although they were in existence long before he decided to put up a fight.
Second, you think that the scumbags that riddle the earth to its core are worthless and all those beyond change deserve to die. Well, here I disagree. What they did or will do was and will be and is cruel, but we should learn from their example to be be better. Your hatred however extends to a degree that you (while not apparent) have developed a cruel nature of your own.

Have you thought that there are many forms of abuse not only physical? I'm sure you have. And do you realize that you in your many post (and who knows where else) are actually in some respect an abuser? Emotional abuser. Verbal abuser. I can't say for certain.

All I ask is that you vent in a way that doesnt scorch the viewers who look to you.

And again don't attack me because this is NOT an attack. Have a nice day.

@James-C-137 I'm sorry man that you feel this way. You hurt a lot as I've seen but that's ok. We all hurt. Some of us more that others. But you are very open an not many others are. Being open means you know what you feel and others however have a hard time realizing that they're in pain. You might not understand the pain, and maybe you don't want to because it's just to much. And one of these days it's more than possible that you simply become a shattered being, that you break down and give up.
Just know that these aren't the best times but they aren't the worst, and if you love something or someone or are trying to, keep going.

No ones asking you to shut the hell up and be a man and quit your whining and whatever. Just try and get things off your mind and chest by getting them onto something else. Figure it out and we'll support you.
And don't rush anything. Take these next days weeks months years one day week month year at a time in this life. Because I don't think you're ready to leave.
And I hope you think so too.

Part One

Chapter :

Six

The parlour hearth radiated dutifully,
and the doctor divulged in the leaves of a novel,
whose cover hid from my view.
I wondered if they were good.

“What know you of modern writings?”
asked he, sudden and bare.

-It is clear, and I enjoy the fog of old.

-But meaning is dug from surface.

-Some surfaces have no ground.

-Do they float?

-They soar, doctor,
they soar so very high from being.

He stumbled into silence
(misquote is a fall),
pricked by the burrs of thought.

“This here is poetry of new.”

-Has it the simplicity of new?

-It has,
but also the depth of uncharted waters.

-Its title?

-Of current fraction:
‘Always Almost Never’.

-Its pseudonym?

-‘Tenessive Folamer’,
of Eironffilac, Acerriman*.

-Foreign, I see… Shall you narrate?

-Do you wish it?

-There is a possibility

-you?

-would want.

-Then I’ll speak.

His throat then cleared, he read.

“Almost Always Never

“Sometimes mockingbirds sing
When they can’t even speak.
Sometimes hearts can be silent
When they cannot scream.

“Sometimes oceans pull back
What they can give no more.
Sometimes the stars above fade
When they cannot shine.

“Sometimes thought is a path
People take when they’re lost.
Sometimes a stone makes no spark
When it isn’t struck.

“Sometimes pain is a book
If its stories are songs.
Sometimes the firelight freezes
When it cannot burn.

“And always almost never
The end would be the start.
Sometimes we take forever
To see in the dark.”

He stopped. “Be it simple?”

-…

He recognized my silence with notice.

“You cry?”

-Cry?
that is too lenient a word.
No, doctor…
Zomo hasn’t made his friends yet.
Life is too petty but so great.
And abundance of third I have not.
I mayn’t live twice, and not for the better.
Simply, I understand.

-What?

-How blind I’ve been for long,
ever and now.

@17katie now I readily admit I'm wrong once I know for certain I am. Unless of its with my parents. If I do one thing wrong I'm suddenly incapable as a person.

@Harely-Quinn it's narrative poetry, harleen. Follow the tags to read from the beginning of you care to.

Part One

Chapter :

Five

My father’s mansion
had been built at the base of a hill.

Today I was at the summit
after dining on medication,
tackling the sheer size of earth
by the scrutiny of an eagle.
Beside me stood the doctor,
holding me in place
for I perched myself at the lip of a cliff,
and my condition
was notorious for a lack of balance.

I said, “What be the horizon?”

-Where heaven clashes with ground.

-And?

-And?
What find you of this battlefield?

-It is the edge

-of?

-our sight;
the farthest an eye can grasp.
To perceive ahead is to own Beyond:
to envision one’s plan as definite.

-What be Beyond?

-It is a sight inexistential
where future is inexistent.

The question was of the leaves of my mind,
a book the doctor skimmed.

“Do you see Beyond?” posed he.

-Nay. There is no Beyond for me.
The author drops bloodied to a knife in his spine.
The pen clatters from grip
and Death brandishes his body.
The story is no more.

It was past midnight
when this came clear to him.

The sun drew anchor
and rose from the ocean.
There was a flash as dawn broke.

“When does dawn break?”
I questioned weakly.
“How is majesty so brittle?”

-You hurt from supper
but you aren’t attested.

-I wish an answer.

-You wish meaning,
the one particle the universe
mayn’t provide.

-I wish your answer
and that a vacuum has.

-But void is not devoid of greed.

-Though man breathes air
he does not guard it.

-You wish an answer?

-I wish an answer. Doctor, I need one.

He drew his mouth to a close
then opened it most scholarly.

“One breaks when incapable of mend.
To grow so majestic
is to break a little forth within.
That is my answer.
Squall! the question is met.”

-I thank you. You needn’t try but you do.
I am to die, doctor, my body fails me.
There isn’t hope for a broken dam,
the city of pearls shall flood.

-You are the plaintive stone from gut?

-I am his cries,
the one fictitious aspect without an elaborated end.
I brought the night for she heard ache.
All I am is ache.
She heard me but saw death.

We started down the hill
and soon penetrated the mansion.

“Hold on yet, child;
the rope isn’t fully frayed.”

-But far is the gate
and my head it is broken.

-Must you hurt so?

-If you knew pain, I’d be that fact.
So I must, if I wish –
though I don’t –
to light on.

-Sleep, child, sleep.

-But the day is of sun.

-But your bed is of hay.

-Will you keep watch?

-Forever till naught.

I fell to slumber
uttering the last quote of sunup.

“Why is it so cold?
Men, I am weary.”