My name is Charlotte, my friends call me Matte - long story. I'm 13, I like to draw, write, sing and compose and play music on my piano and my guitars - bass and electric. I'm only a beginner at electric guitar though. I'm a terrible conversationist and I talk with a very slight, but noticeable stammer. I'm terrible at reading long texts, at least ones without pictures. I'm not too good at forming images in my mind without a basis to work off.
I think 'swag' and 'YOLO' were terms developed by geniuses. Swag: the quickest way to identify a douchebag. YOLO: the quickest way to send said douchebag to prison..
Untitled_Audio_Log_001 Is this thing on. *tap-tap* Ah, yeah, there we go. This is Elizabeth McGlashan reporting at 0812 hours on May 21st, 2017. Location... Somewhere.
(I didn't write this poem, and I don't know who did. Enjoy anyone, and thank you to whoever did write it.
This happens every single time. I come upstairs and what do I find. On my bed, sleeping, in a ball, curled up, A little Jack Russell and Shih-Tzu cross pup..
Lost. Stuck. Confused. Don't know what to do, Don't know what to say. Should I go in this direction. Or the other way. Perhaps this option would be best, Or maybe this one would.
Fuck 'em, they're just a number..
Hi, thanks if anyone has the time to read this. So, I've got a little dilemma, I guess. My boyfriend lives in London, and we're in a long-distance relationship.
Charmanders are red, Squirtles are blue. If you were a Pokemon, I'd choose you..
You never see it coming. The far off sounds of guns. Sometimes, the sound of a spade hitting concrete or the thud of a baseball bat against their soft heads. The screams of everyone you love.
Hey there, everyone. Uh, well, all 13 of you. I'm having a little trouble trying to find any inspiration to write. In other words, I'm having a terrible writer-block.
A walk was all it took. A simple walk outside, into a small patch of field about a minute away.
Why is a raven like a writing desk?.
"John, I've been thinking about this for a while and I think that I kinda... No, Strider, you gotta be more confident than that. Okay. John, I love you and I think that we should... No, no, too blunt.
Dave Strider had been in the hospital for three weeks.
I choose not to. I fear humiliation. Therefore, I say nothing so I don't humiliate myself. I haven't spoken a word since I was 9. Since I was 11, I've wondered what I sound like. I'm 14.
This is sort of 'inspired', I suppose by one of @blindsilence's recent posts. So, here goes. Okay, first up, people on Opuss who follow no-one, yet have over 60-70 followers.
Why. Because, yes, you may have broken my heart, but you were aware of that fact.
Another sleepover. Another night of tears. We stay up, watch 'Supernatural' then sleep as the clock strikes one. Well, we try.
@LittleKitten He's different. His eyes are the colour of rubies And his hair a snowy grey, As if he was decorated with a Christmas tree in mind; The silver tinsel And the glowing red lights.
Those people who follow no-one, have written nothing, yet have over 50 followers. How. Just... How?.
Her vision faded. As it did so, she caught a final glimpse of the blonde haired, blue eyed boy she called her love.
I like the number two. Why. My birthday is the 2nd of a month. If you ever have to make a choice, there will always be at least two options. It's a good number to go by..
I'm terrified of getting cancer. It runs in my family. I know a hell of a lot of people who have died of it in the past, including my dog. It haunts me, I guess. I had a cancer scare last year.
A beautiful name. Most would agree. Like autumn leaves On a deciduous tree. When the colours Are brown, yellow, red And fall to the ground Amongst flower beds.
They always told me, "Don't forget". I always did forget. They always told me, "Don't regret". I always did regret. I also remember the things I regret. Every Little Last God-damned Detail.
Being romantic. My attempts at being poetic always turn out cheesy and down-right terrible..
It's not easy to rhyme, Make sure all the endings fit. Making all the lines work together Sometimes makes me want to quit. It's not easy to rhyme And repetition's hard.
And something occurred to me today.
My dad frequently repeats this joke us, most of the time unintentionally, but I always laugh at the end.
This is a joke that my friend told me earlier today. I warn you, it contains a few swears. Johnny and his dad were walking home from his school when they saw two women arguing in the street.
In my school, there used to be these identical twins called Paris and Courtney. Paris was in my tutor group, but she was never in school.
So, there's this guy, and he's spectacular, beautiful, spectacularly beautiful, beautifully spectacular. And I have no idea why..
'What use is it. What use is anything?' Your hands tremble as the freshly drawn blood dribbles along the skin of your hand to drip softly onto the stained carpet below you. 'No, nothing's wrong.
What would a person be like if they never loved anyone, or in fact, anything. Surely if they'd never loved then they'd never felt emotional pain.
I stare into your eyes I see stars in the sky I see glowing fireflies.
Take my hand and lead the way, Pour out all your deeper thoughts, Let your soft voice whisper swiftly into my ear, All these lovely things I want to hear.
As I lie in my bed, Your name running through my head. All I can think of is you And all that you do. The way you look at me. I feel as if I’m in a dream.
It's dark. I can hear the whirring of my computer. The light pollution obscures the night sky. I can see no stars. Oh, the stars. The stars. Where are they. Hiding. Hidden.
He stood there on that sunny Autumn's day and watched the leaves drift by. There were so many. Colourful and dancing with the wind. He reached out and caught a crisp red leaf in his hand.