ikarkari

[ikarkari]

My hobby is writing fanfiction on ao3 but leaving it on a cliffhanger and never updating it.

I also occasionally edit bits so it looks like there’s a new chapter :)

[ikarkari]

as Mentor let the mentor give advice full of concern with values likewise show counsel as a noble teacher who designs youth's future full of love and vigor as Molder let the teacher mold children's wit making her an instrument in harnessing intellect developing the innocent with word of respect motivating and molding future's best no brilliant lawyer without a patient teacher nor comes a great doctor without an intelligent educator let us honor and exalt such effort

for being a good teacher requires too much commitment

[ikarkari]

I did everything right. I was nice to everyone. I was helpful. I was kind. I was patient. I was good.

I didn't mess up. I wasn't rude. I wasn't unobliging. I wasn't cruel. I wasn't impatient. I wasn't terrible.

But I also wasn't enough. Not for them. I realize now that I will never be enough. Why? Because I don’t give like they do. I don't share my life with others like they do. I don't trust like they do.

I can be as pleasant as I want, but it will not satisfy them. They do not want to take what I give, because it isn't special. It isn't me. But I cannot give them what they want, because they want me.

And I forgot how to be me...

[ikarkari]

I crouch on jagged rocks. Watching as waves crash against the edge of my ebony perch, one after another. The wave shatters and shards fill the air infront of me. I am not afraid as the shards fly by. I see myself in the reflection but they don't hurt me.

Slowly rising from my haunches. I feel the wind in my hair as it tries to rip me from my haven. It aims to push me into the waves, to be crushed by my own misery. I, however, am not afraid as I plant my feet on rugged masses of confidence and pride. I still see my face in the dark water, but I know that I have changed.

I am not the same person that I was then. I am not the same frail little girl anymore. She was crushed by the pressure in the dark depths. She was ripped apart by tides, pulling her away from the stable ground. She was shredded by the barbed wire that polluted the bottom of these irate seas. She was weak.

I am strong. I can withstand the pressure. I cannot be moved by the tides. I can stay afloat, above all that hurts.

Now I stand proudly on the foundation I built. Made up of inspiration, awe, gratitude, joy and serenity, my foundation is stable. It will not be broken by fear, or depression, or anxiety, or anything else. I cannot be touched by those gloom-ridden waves.

I am safe.

[ikarkari]

Time

Time, so fragile, is the only thing in life I cannot control. In my youth, I didn't care for it. As a child I had all the time in the world. I could spend my time on anything and it would not be wasted. The sand pooling at the bottom of the hourglass didn't worry me. In my mind, I was small and as the pile grew, I grew. It made me bigger, stronger, more mature and more independent. It made me better.

In my teenage years, I could feel it. I could feel the sand rushing through my fingers as I failed to catch it. I started calculating. I had 24 hours in a day. I spent nine in bed, six at school, three doing homework, another three on after-school activities and two on eating. That left me with one to myself. And that would be taken away by friends and family who felt like I owed my time to them.

In my twenties, I was drowning. The sand covered me, leaving just enough room to breathe. Everyone and everything needed attention and 24 hours wasn't enough. It was never enough. I was stuck, stuck thinking about every second I've wasted. I know I could've done better, I could have been faster. The sand was teasing me as it trapped the hands that were trying to catch it. It got under my nails, in every crevice of my palm and in my wounds it felt like salt.

Finally I gave up. At the ripe age of 31, I stopped. I stopped worrying. I stopped thinking. I slammed my foot on the brakes, bringing my entire life to a halt. But my time kept running, I couldn't stop that. A few years ago, I would have protested, squirmed to get away from the sand that piled onto me. Now, I'm not sure. Now, I recognize my life as a nightmare. A nightmare I can escape.

My time is up.

I am still, letting the sand fall. I close my eyes and my breathing stop and my heartbeat grows faint. Time is a curse. Now I am free...

(This is a school essay that I revamped. It was originally inspired by an ABBA song, Slipping through my fingers.)

[ikarkari]

"Stay away from me! My flaws are like thorns and have hidden them for too long."

"Good, my hands are ready to bleed."

[ikarkari]

Why am I here fighting for respect?

Why am I fighting for a voice?

Why am I fighting to have an opinion?

Why am I fighting to be acknowledged?

Why am I fighting for your default settings?

Why are your rights out of my reach?

Why am I trapped in a constant security breach?

How much easier would my life be,

if I had been born a he?

[ikarkari]

I'm sorry.

It felt like a cheat code. A quick apology that doesn't really mean anything anymore. It is said so often that it loses it value. Now it just takes the space of whatever should have been said. It was tiring, hearing that over and over again, even though it meant nothing. An apology was deserved and that didn't count anymore.

[ikarkari]

I speak for humanity when I apologize,

To the oceans, the land and the skies.

For money and profit, we tear you down.

Rip you apart for another greedy town.

When you gave us lemons and limes,

We traded those for pennies and dimes.

We strip you of your resources and the shared space,

Acting like we are deserving of your grace.

We will never be worthy, human or not,

So please don't forgive us until we stop.

[ikarkari]

I feel them knocking. Knocking at the locked door. They are annoying but I refuse to open the door. They are my emotions, my greatest enemies. I unlock the door. Taking a deep breathe. I slowly open the door, just an inch. I look outside of my room. A room made of comfort and serenity. I see a line, a chain of negativity.

Infront is Rage. She is the one pounding on the door demanding to be let in. Next is Regret. He is a regular here. Then there's Sadness. She is the most difficult to face. I know from experience. Behind her stands Anxiety. She is always there. And yet I am still not used to her. Finally Depression. I despise her.

I grab a blanket from my home. This blanket is named Irritation. I throw the blanket over them. Stripping them from their identity. This is how I cope. No, it doesn't get rid of them. But it makes it easier to let them in. Irritation is nothing compared to what they are.

I let them in. But now I am irritable, permanently. But is it better this way. My heart can't take anything else.

[ikarkari]

I was a great day. A day of victory, but Death didn't celebrate. Instead he sat alone on a rock, looking out on the dark oceans. He sat with his knees brought up to his chest and his scythe resting in his left hand, occasionally getting splashed with a bit of water from the waves.

A hand rested on his shoulder as someone sat down next to him. It was Coincidence. She sighed as she looked at him.

"I know how you feel. I'm not proud either."

Death draped an arm around her as his sister layed her head on his shoulder.

"I don't understand Co, why are you sad?"

"You know Fate, he blames himself for everything. Even stupid human wars can pull him right back into his depression. I feel bad. I'm his wife, I'm suppose to help him but I don't know how. I know you're probably sad about the praise Life is getting."

"Yeah well that's how it's going to stay apparently. She is a beautiful lie and I'm the painful truth. She's too tempting. Everyone blames me for the death of loved ones, but I am not the one who kills them. Life is the only one who can take back her gift, but they don't seem to realize that."

Coincidence didn't say anything. She just hugged him tightly as he rested his head on hers.

The truth hurts.

[ikarkari]

Why am I here?

Why was I chosen to be put on earth? I can barely survive being human, nevermind being an angel before this life. I hate myself because I care. I hate myself because I love. I hate myself because I am merciful. I hate myself because I am human. How sure are we that I'm not a devil that escaped? If I used to care about everyone back then, why is it so difficult now?

[ikarkari]

I stared at the old book in my hands. I saw bright pages filled with pictures and paragraphs, photos depicting passion was pasted behind mountains of memorable moments. I stared at the person in the portrait.

She was gone. She was the last one left and now she is with the rest. I stared at a girl with blonde hair and blue-rimmed glasses, her eyes were full of love and joy. She was in every photograph on every page. That wasn't me, not anymore.

The joy was gone, the passion seemed pointless as my hope had vanished long before. The room was tense as sorrow and regret hung heavy in the air. Why am I still here?

Why am I the one who has to suffer? Couldn't it have been me? I didn't ask for this, not again. First my parents, then my siblings and now my friends, when will it end?

I shouldn't even be here. I'm an 84 year old trapped in the body of a 24 year old and apparently It's a blessing. My rage, sorrow and depression is constantly labeled as a blessing. How dare they?

[ikarkari]

I wonder if God knows about me.

Does he know that he's been ignoring me for 19 years? Does he know about the pain his followers have caused me? Does he regret leaving me or is he laughing at my pain? Is this something kind of punishment?

[ikarkari]

I heard some bad news.

Then why am I happy? I'm not saying he deserves it, but if I had a full-proof way to help him, I would ignore him flat. I shouldn't be glad or happy or thankful. But, love, sometimes misery is amusing and you are my entertainment...

[ikarkari]

I play violin. It's a hobby, an escape and a release, all at the same time. It's my life. The strings feel rough as I press them against the fingerboard of my glorious wooden instrument. The dark wooden pattern, with tiger stripes and flecks of red and gold looks stunning in the studio lighting. The pegs is a brilliant representation of the whittler's skills, showing the precise movements necessary to master the ancient craft.

My violin is special. The melodic sounds are unique as it is handmade by the gods. My violin was a gift from Death, a surprise from Desire and a blessing from Fate.

Here I stand playing my violin. I stand on a pedestal in the voyer of Hell, playing for the damned souls. My music provides entertainment for Death himself, fills desire with warmth and comforts Fate in her darkest moments. I can be heard from anywhere, in Heaven and Hell.

On Earth, the birds sing my songs and the whales hum my melodies. The land is my symphony. The oceans and the skies are my orchestra.

My violin makes music for everyone, it is special.

[ikarkari]

Why am I like this?

Why am I cursed with a lack of motivation and patience?

Why do my mind force me to sit still in silence?

Why can't I speak out and make a difference?

Why must I sit and suffer, plagued with my incompetence?

It is stressful,

Trying to work around my anxiety,

And never being successful,

Trying to fit into society,

while predators hunt me down with unnecessary ferocity.

I sit in shame, embarrassed at my own beliefs.

Hoping for some kind of peace, a healthy release.

I was cursed and I will die on this hill,

Because everyone feels this way and no one else will.