coldramen1412

[coldramen1412]

We are not defined by the actions and choices we couldn't do. Even though, realistically, there is nothing a human being could not do; when pushed towards the edge, when pushed far enough, we could do anything.

We are not defined by the actions we are forced to make, we are defined by the actions others want to force upon, do everything in their power to make us do, and yet, we still wouldn't do them.

We are defined by the actions we wouldn't do.

[coldramen1412]

When my children (my cats) die, it will ruin me. shatter me into a million pieces. I love them more than there are stars in the sky, more than there are grains of sand on earth. I will love them until my bones turn to dust, and the planet is no more.

It will kill me when my brother dies, when my sister is buried within the earth. It will devastate me beyong words, being comprehension, beyong imagination.I will be completely shattered, and yet I must go one. Not for me, never for me, but for those below me. For those who look upon me for guidance, help,

I pray, with all that I have, my brother, my sister, die after me. I konw it is selfish, I know it is greedy, but I wish for their souls to leave their bodies long after mine does.

It will destroy me when my mother and father die. I know they will die before me, I know I have have to plan their funerals, bury their bodies, and still be the one to comfort the rest. I know it will completely and utterly devastate me, to the point I won't have to strenght to stand, to breath, to exist, and yet, my job will be to comfort those around me, as it has always been.

For they took my heart—willingly at that, for I gave them every piece, ever bit of it—and kept it beating. I live for them, I survive for them, I fight for them. Why would I ever even think to live in a world where they are not beside me?

Which is why I know, I will die after them. I know I will outlive them, that I will have to bury each and every one of them. Maybe that is why I do this, poison my body. Maybe this is why I seem so determined to produce my own destruction, so that I die with every piece of my heart intact.

I know this is selfish, I know this is inconsiderate, but did I not deserve the right to be selfish this one time? Can I not die with my heart intact? I have already given my flesh, my bones are being taken as we speak, is it wrong for me to cling desperately to my own heart?

[coldramen1412]

I might be alone in this, but I absolutly love the true forms of Tiki and Plagg.

I'm not saying I love the circumstances that lead to their reveal (or the fact that they MUST obey whoevers wears their jewels, which I think is a crazy irresponsible thing considering how easily a human soul can be tained and influenced, but that's a whole different discussion), but I love the monologues they say when they transform:

"I am Plagg, the kwami of destruction. I am everything that is and no longer will be."

"I am Tiki, the kwami of creation. I am everything that isn't yet and is yet to be."

What I love about their lines is the fact that they make more to destuction than simply destorying. Ever since I first watched Miraculous Ladybug (back when the show had potential let's be real lol), I understood the importance of Plagg, of destruction. You can't create something without it inevitably being destroyed, nothing is eternal.

But the fact that they made Plagg the kwami of "everything that is and no longer will be" because everything that is will be destroyed and Tiki "everything that isn't yet but is yet to be" because until we create it, until we move it from out of our minds, it is not yet made.

I don't know, even with all the problems Miraculous Ladybug has, with all it's fault, I really enjoy the way they portrayed the kwamis of creation and destruction.

[coldramen1412]

Descent

My greatest downfall,

the beginning of my descent,

was when I came of age

At first, I had picked my poison before reaching adulthood,

but then it almost killed me,

almost took me out

I didn't stop because of the fear of not being alive,

I stopped because the look on my mother and father's faces,

when they belived I would die before them,

filled me with such tragedy, it instilled within me a conviction to live,

to not die before them

Because even though I do not love this life,

do not care if it were to end,

I love them more than anything,

and I would rather die (ironically) than see them hurt

So, my poison of choice was picked,

but then it was striped from my hands

So I had to pick a new poison,

a more accessible one

It kills me to see myself,

I can no longer look into mirrors,

see the creautre I have become

My younger self would be ashamed,

be appaled at the choices I've made,

the substances I've but into my body

And just like Scrooge,

if my younger self would beheld the being I've become,

it might have instilled in me a determination,

a determination to not fall as I have

To stand tall, resistent to the poisons before me

But, I am not Scrooge,

I did not have someone to show me what I would become,

the evils of my life

So instead, I am here,

falling farther and farther,

not knowing if I would grab hold before I reach bottom

[coldramen1412]

I loved food,

I loved food so much

The taste, the culture, the presentation,

I loved all aspects of food

But when I got sick,

when I wasn't able to stomach food,

when I lost almost 100 punds,

somthing else was born

Yes, I love food,

yes, I would eat as much food as I wanted,

but the thing that was born, it won't let me

when I lost all that weight,

when my body finally became beautiful,

it also made it impossible for me to eat my fill

Now, I find myself starving

Always hungry,

always ravenous,

my body begging for the next morsel

And even with how hard I try,

with the outside factors I use to force myself to eat,

my little bird appetite has been notized,

has become my normal

So when I eat more than so,

when I eat a normal, not my normal but a normal human meal, they notice

They notice and the comment

Say things like "that's more than what you usually eat"

and it reminds me,

that I shouldn't be eating as much,

that I should starve my body, maintian the figure I aquired

No matter how hungry,

no matter how many days it's been,

no matter what outside factors I use,

I must starve

I must maintain this figure that almost killed me

I must be as thin as pissible

Maybe then, I might be seen as beautiful

[coldramen1412]

My Children

Do I have the right, to view my younger siblings as my children?

I love them as my own, truyly

I veiw them as my own, always

but I did not make their physical bodies

Every achievement I have made in my life, I have made with the knowledge they would look upon me as an example

Everytime they have a problem, a struggle, or even just a life event they wish to share

they tell me with no hesitation

they come into my room, tell me whatever is happening in their lives, and I drop everyting and listen

Are they not my own?

Are they not my flesh and blood?

Everytime they do something they shouldn't, I scold them llike a mother, tell them I taught them better, and everytime I tell them such, they stay silent and listen

because I did teach them better

I did raise them better

does that not make them my own?

I would destroy humanity, destroy myself, destory everyone I love, just to see them happy

does that not make them my children?

I know I am young, younger than most

and I know I am not the only human with younger siblings

So I wonder, is this a normal odler sibling emotion?

Or do I truly love them as if they were my own children?

Honestly, I don't care for the answer

becuse I love them as if they were my own children

I would destory humanity, just to hear them laugh

I love them, more than I love myself

and if that is not the love a mother has for her children, I do not care

because I love them as if they were my own children

as if they were mine

because they are mine

just like all of you with younger siblings know

they were raised with my help

thery were loved with my love

and they are children of mine

[coldramen1412]

Fallen

I am Icarus

The smell of wax fills my lungs

My feathers caress my face as they fly by

I am Icarus

The warmth of the sun as it kissed my cheeks was a comfort

The smell of of the sea, so far below me and yet the salty breaze was still able to reach me, a reminder of my alernative fate

If I had not flown as high as I could, my fingers reaching out and touching the sun, the waves would have swallowed me

And even though I will drown in the sea all the same, the simple fact that I was able to touch the sun was worth while

I am Icarus, although I may have fallen, let it not be forgotten I flew

[coldramen1412]

But what if we were not meant for this life? To wake up every morning only to be stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. To be chained by rent and bills, taxes and responsibilities.

What if the life we were meant to live is simply around the corner? A little cottage in the countryside, where we can wake every morning, not to drive a torturous route to a 9-5, but to have a warm cup of tea, absorbing the sun.

What if we were meant to follow our dreams and open up an apothecary in our little cottage, creating a new recipe everyday?

What if I were meant to shed these shackles and travel the land, painting the scenes Mother Nature concocted herself?

What if the reason I have no joy in this life is because this is not the life I was meant to live?

[coldramen1412]

Freedom

What use is freedom if we are all alone? If we have no one to share the wind, the stars, the sea, the sky with?

What use is freedom if we have not the soul to feel humanity all around us? If we cannot understand the emotions of our fellow man.

What use is freedom if we do not have the means to enjoy all the wonderful creations of humanity? Not the tongue to taste the delicacies of masters, the ears to hear the melodies of sirens, the eyes to see the landscapes painted by primordials, the scent to smell the fragrance of the unseen, or the touch to feel the miracles of the past.

What use is freedom if we cannot read into the minds of libraries? See the works of scribes? Fall into the words they dictate and feel the experiences of their children?

What use is freedom if we cannot prostate ourselves in boredom, watching time flicker by? Waiting for an epiphany, or simply waiting for the day to pass.

What use is freedom if we have not the sorrow to season our joy? To have the ability to differentiate between the mournful echoes of our hearts and the ethereal glee of our souls.

What use is freedom if we are no longer human to enjoy it?

[coldramen1412]

Black Cats are Bad Luck

Black cats are bad luck,

just not all the time.

Like a light bulb, they can turn it,

off and on.

So, those who sneer at these beautiful creatures,

calling them ugly, bad luck charms, witch's familiars (but that last one may not be entirely wrong)

don't be surprised when the myth turns true.

When your luck turns once the beautiful creature gracefully crosses your path.

You asked for it, really.

But for those who hold no such prejudices in your hearts,

you're in luck!

Because unlike their ability to turn on bad luck,

they hold no such control over good luck!

For it is constantly on!

Which is why,

when a black cat crosses your path, you find a penny on the floor, a much-wanted item on sale, a good hair day, an interview going well,

because they can not turn off their good luck and sprinkle it like a benevolent god.

[coldramen1412]

We don’t find places we belong, we make them. Forge them through strength and courage. Through kindness and determination.

[coldramen1412]

"I am a mosaic of everyone I've ever loved, even for a heartbeat," but what about ourselves? Oftentimes it's so much easier to love everyone else, to see the little things they do, the things that make them human, and treasure them always. But what about us? What about our habits and traits? What about the things that make us human? Why do we not feel the same? Why do we revere and praise the people we love and yet criticize and belittle the mirror? If our hearts our so big we keep pieces of the people we've loved, why can't we do the same for ourselves?

[coldramen1412]

You notice your imperfections the most when you try to decorate them.

[coldramen1412]

[coldramen1412]

When I was a kid I told my mother this is a cruel world. I meant it as a joke but she took it seriously and said “this world is not cruel it’s the people in it that are cruel.” That sentence has stuck with me even after so many years.

[coldramen1412]

It is not the gifts we make that stay with us it is the parts of our soul we place in them that will forever stay

[coldramen1412]

Scam Alert - Commissioning Artists Beware

Artists, there’s a scam going around on Twitter at the minute, and you never know, someone might try it over here.

This guy is messaging commissioning artists and attempting to gain access to their PayPal by pretending to need a code to pay the bill. Obviously we all know that’s bull, but if someone isn’t paying attention, is unfamiliar with PayPal commissions as a whole, or is just desperate enough for that commission money?  They might fall for it. OP’s tweet here.

PayPal will not require a code for someone to complete payment.

It’s just not how it works, I know it, you know it, the scammer knows it.  But he’s gambling on the potential that someone (and that someone is mostly likely to be a young, new artist without much commission experience under their belt, let’s be honest) doesn’t know it.  Let’s make sure everyone does. So if you’d be so kind, please boost the everliving hell out of this.  Don’t let anyone fall prey to this shady, shady individual, either here or on twitter or anywhere else.