Garden on the Ceiling_Only After You Lived_Against all odds: My journey to freedom From a heart stro
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Garden www.onedoor.ccon the Ceiling
[CW: Minor use of foul language]I suppose I don’t really remember when I started being the way that I am. Or when I started being in general. Though I have many theories. Thoughts. Ideas…That I was brought here. By another being. Entity! Energy? Oh, energy. I miss having that. Now all I have are memories of energy.Is your skin ever itchy? But, it’s not your skin. It’s more, underneath. Much deeper than your skin. Beyond your flesh. Fresh avocados! That’s what I needed to get today. What does one define as fresh though? When they’re hard, or when they’re soft? When they’re ripe! But not too...
Only After You Lived
(Content Warning: This story contains mentions of physical violence, child abuse, self harm and suicide.)The croquet ball in my room didn’t belong to my family. It was an old wooden model with weathered, dirty-looking red paint, chipped and scratched all over its dimpled surface. I only learned about the game when I asked my parents what the ball was for, and dad bought me a mallet to play with it in the back garden. I only hit it a few times before I got bored, it wasn’t all that exciting really. Leaving it on the grass, I headed back into the house to draw dinosaurs instead. Laying on top of...
Against all odds: My journey to freedom From a heart stroke to walking again
The last thing I remembered was complaining about a back pain. Already exhausted, stressed and self-neglected, my mind slowly and painfully ped into the darkness. No more sounds, no more feelings, no more needs. I felt happy. I felt light. No more worrying. Neat. A faint recurring beep kept on waking me up. Yeah, I was aware of my surroundings, but something was impeding me from standing and look out. It was a constant battle- no more win - win. Ok, why the heck was I being compelled to contemplating this quietness? It felt nice, but empty. I heard people passing by me, minding their own busin...
lazy farming
LAZY FARMING My dear Auntie Gobnait was very upset that I did not know what I wanted to be when I grew up. She wanted the best for me, an innocent five-year-old boy in Ireland, and so, with the best of intentions, she started inviting her friends over to afternoon tea parties for storytelling. That's when they began to give me advice about what to do when I met a leprechaun. First I was to determine whether he was in a good mood. Second I was to be ready to give him my three wishes so that my family would become better off from my chatting with hi...