share a story or make one up. then see how the next person felt about it. be sure to write how you felt while reading the previous writer's story.

And don't worry about sounding sappy and dramatic, that's the whole idea.

How often must I dwell on the thoughts of those who have caused me pain. All that runs through my head now, are memories of a time when I felt relaxed. When I had someone to look forward to seeing every day and night. Even though she's gone; after school, and even though I'm not walking to her house, my mind still wanders along that path as I remember. Now I look for a new source of happiness, but things I do always lead me back. I used to be calm and subtle, but now I'm restless and inside, I wait in pain. "The past is past." they say? Well that may be, but it still hurts. The past shapes the future, I hope it gets better from here.

Your story, although wonderful, sounds very farmiliar
and i really like it

This road you speak of....i once walked it too. i walked it in a pure happiness, hand in hand, day after day. But that happiness was destroyed. in a clash of distance, depression, love and hate. now my road has changed, covered in a dank shade of empathy and darkness. It's vile nature created around my dark wishes, hidden by a fake happiness used to blind those i love from seeing this 'hell'. Although im accustom to the quiet cold. i fear it with my entire heart. yet i try to find that light i once loved, but everyday loving the dark more and more. feeling i'm lost, no, knowing i'm lost, thinking of giving up...knowing it's easiest. not knowing what to do....i think i'll dwell a bit longer....

The past is about letting go, so you can grow (copyright Me_Again 2004)

I can sense your pain, as I am sure all of us have encountered pain in one way or another.

Words are the key
To knowing everythng
IS so simple
Even though it seems
So confusing (copyright Me_again 2004)

Follow the yellow brick road...

you don't know me, But i too travel that road of despair. You here my laughter and laugh to but i must say its not true. I smile as do you, but you don't here the thought or scream i make in my mind. MY MIND its the only thing i have left to my name. A place i won't be but by my own thoughts. I still travel this road in anothers hand but not even he understands my true sorrows...

Oh, but I do hear your screams. And every painful thought. I am always listening

Their sorrows clung to me like a clam in its shell. Screaming out to the vast depths of the Universe, for understanding and acceptance...
They heard a voice singing "follow the yellow brick road", but they couldn't see it, for it was to dark in their mind. A mind of understanding, they may never see the sun. Day or night, some never see the sun...but when the light hits their tears, they will see the rainbow.
(copyright Me_Again 2004)

why do you think I only come out at night?

You are the only one

to choose



what you do

I don't really know anything about you. i thought we were making up an emotional story So I'll continue...

The rainbow would not come yet, for these tired souls, who lurked in the darkness. They were blinded by the light, I heard the song singing...

this song, i have heard of only in the younger years. but now i shead my tears. i wheep like the a willow and cry into my pillow. to have my fellow next to me only seems as a dream. a dream i still don't think to be true. true as my heart to his.

do not begin to doubt your relationship. I have watched you two from the "shadows". Aside from a few quarrels, what you have is precious. Your appearances do not stop you from loving one another. That is something others have difficulty with. But not you two. hold on to this, make it last

She left me on a cold clear day. Tragic was her death, but she will be in my heart. I will never love again, for she was the only one for me. And now I must mourn for her , until the end of time.

She was born on a cold clear day, April 13 to be exact. It was a Friday and her mother always told her that Friday the 13th was a 'good luck day' for her. Now you could say that her luck wasn't always good, but she understood. As she waited in the clear view of others to notice her, she found herself and was set free again...

The day broke with all the sounds of traffic, sunlight crept over the horizon. Looking out the south window, I could see the ocean was angry and alive, thousands of tiny boats and yahts floating at it's edges. I follow the "sound" of silence to my back porch. Opening the screendoor I could hear how the mountains are seen as quiet, it's green overgrown cliffs standing on the edge of collapsing. I turned around just in time to see my roommate awaken from a long night of drinking, as she gathered insight from her surroundings which to her were probably still spinning around her. The sun blasted through the curtains into her face. She yelped, sitting up and covering her eyes. Seeing the sun's first light, our bird began to sing it's sweat song sending my hungover friend flying off the couch; screaming and moaning in pain.

she was more of a vapire than me that morning

even though you watching us is a bit creepy. i love him and he loves me but does not mean theres nothing wrong. and they say "true love" is the worst for its the hardest road you'll travel

As my haikus show im not one favoured by fateful love. All I have are memories. I see others who are happy and I turn away or am stuck watching them because they're in the same room

okay people, Here's what i'll do. I'll start a story, and whoever posts next continues it. One thing though, try to keep it relevant to the last persons bit.
good luck

This is part of the latest movie I've been working on. These are called screenplays, so the format may be a bit unusual to most people. And when reading it, keep in mind that it has been written to describe something you're watching. So it's complex, yet very simplistic. Like a movie
Let us begin.
(Mythcopyright2004)


INT: ballroom/ westin hotel/ night
...Aidan walks into a ballroom where a formal party is being held. He walks along the edges of a the crowd, staring through to the other side of the room. He walks behind a pillar, and emerges wearing a tux. He casually slip through to the center of the crowd unnoticed. He turns and sees a couple being wedded. A priest stands squarely behind them, speaking softly, reading from a small book. Aidan stop as he suddenly recognizes the bride. His legs buckle and he drops to his knees in disbelief. The crowd parts to clear the aisle. The couple, having finished the wedding, begin their walk toward the ballrooms great doors. The woman stops dead in her tracks with wide open eyes, staring at him kneeling there. (Close up on the woman's face) A single tears slowly rolls down her face...

it may take me a while to think of a good story, and a while longer to write it.

ok. like I posted earlier, what I've written already is from my movie so don't worry about sounding odd. For I have already beaten you there

i don't know if i've mentioned it before, i probably have, but my brother is manic depressive. with manic depression, you have points of severe depression and pessimism and then points of extreme happiness and plan-making. my brother would have about one or two days of mania, and then months and months of depression. it was terrible. he used to live here with my dad and i, but eventually moved back to our hometown in saskatchewan. if he had stayed here, he would have killed himself.

when he had got back to saskatchewan, he lived with my mom, who got him going to a psychiatrist, and my brother was finalyl medicated for his problem. he was happier and everybody was too.

the thing with drugs for psycholgical problems is that they may work for a while, but they are rarely a one shot. there were ups and downs. my brother tried to kill himself a number of times, cutting up his wrists, laying his head on the train tracks. thankfully, he either changed his mind or didn't do enough damage when he attempted them. he was depressed, but he wasn't stupid.

the past few years were good though. except this past year. he was depressed almost constantly, to the point where he wasn't just feeling really sad, but he was actually crying for days at a time. he had psychotic breaks and the psychiatrist was pretty much lost. he had no idea what to prescribe my brother, he'd giving him a whole bunch of different combinations of mood stabilizers and what i called uppers mainly because i don't know what else to call them.

with the psychotic breaks, i'm not gonna go into. this story is already emotional enough for me, but i will say that it was genuine psychotic breaks, causing harm to himself and others.

HOWEVER! there is a light to this tunnel. my brother was recently put into a place called pheonix home. it's basically a place where people with psychological problems live and learn how to take care of themselves and deal with their problems better, all that good stuff. my brother is quite happy there and is doing quite well

telling this story is good for me because the ending always helps me. i haven't talked to him sicne he's gone to pheonix home, but they keep him busy, which is good for him. so yeah, if ya read this, thanks for your time

NO, thank you chico. This is what I was hoping for when I started this thread. A place for people to vent their emotions through stories.

and sorry about your bro, chico

Here’s something I knocked together very quickly; making a moving and emotional story.

The next time I post Arsenik I will add to your started story.

Distant recollections

The frigid air bites painfully at my red swollen flesh, as I clutch my shaking dirty legs up to my bruised chest.
Once - far back in my corroded memory - I can sometimes remember a time when there was no pain; what was the time filled with? I can’t remember. Even now as I rock backwards and forwards on my hunches…
I cannot think straight.
So much pain and solitude.
Sometimes I welcome them coming into my small dark cell, even if it is to beat me, purely so I am not alone. In those moments I welcome the hard biting wood, and their strong callous hands.
Oh to be touched in a loving manner; not kicked and pushed until unconsciousness engulfs me.
There was once a woman, a lady… my wife. Her features are beyond my memory; all I can remember is her raven black curly flowing hair, and her beautiful smell… Strange what things we cling too, what small fragments of our life our memory decides to retain, and what slips away from us like a torrential river.
I also had a child. Boy or girl, I do not know, he/she was priced away, torn from my hands as I was about to peer into my child’s eyes for the first time. But I have blocked all that pain, the endless tears. Crying for a baby I never knew or had chance too. One of the gifts my prisoners have given me.
Cold water drips upon my naked back, easing the swollen, bruised muscles. No more time to try and remember who I was, what I lost - or more importantly - what was ripped away.
They are coming. I hear the heavy wooden battens being dragged along the gritty passageway outside. They don’t even bother to lift them properly; then again they will need all their strength for me. I can hear them laughing and joking about what they will do to me today.
The large rusty iron key turns in the thick wooden door. Fresh air washes over me, replacing the smell of my soiled and sweat filled cell.
I try and picture the image of my beautiful wife’s face. Her amazing smell. I also see is her flowing black hair matted with crimson blood… “Wait for me my love. I will join you very soon.”

emotional journey----by jeceris


There was this time once, where i was very scared, so much so, that i began to cry. I then thought of something funny, and i began to laugh. I was told to stop laughing, and i got very mad.
It was quite the emotional journey.

Moe misses his ocelot stan. Stan ran away with a fluffy bunny. Moe cries at night . He shivers into the cold moonlight for he has no ocelot to warm him.

Snuffs had offered Misty to Moe. But misty does not roatate. We are not grovvy today.

okay, well, at first i was hesitant about posting this, but i think at the end ill be glad i did. i dont like talking about this normally. Papa is abusive. not severly, its just about all verbal, you know, yelling and screaming and such.
he does, like me, have a goodly number of diagnosed mental problems, none of which im going to attempt to spell. anyway, ill give you an example.
lets say i spill a glass of milk around Papa. he automatically decides that i spilled it because i was hurrying, and he cannot allow hurrying. so, he gets angry, screams at me for three hours, and gets hoarse. then, after a bit, he and goes to find mama. he screams at her for three hours about anything in the world, from the milk on the floor to the bill on horse feed to the big branch that fell in the back yard that he needs to chop up. its often rather funny to see what completely stupid stuff he can b**** about. then, after that, he falls into a depression that could last days, pretty much sitting on the sofa and staring at the floor and occasionally grumbling something to himself. he refuses to speak to anybody during that depression or touch anybody. then, after about a week of that, he slowly gets happier until hes back to what most people consider normal. and two weeks later, i knock over a stool and it begins again.
he really does love us both, though. he does it for me, in a absurd sort of way.

there, that wasnt really a story so much as just telling the way it is.

I have many stories to tell, but all of them take me to a place in my mind. So I'll leave them alone for now. Don't worry though more are soon to come I'm sure.