Tushies

Doodles.

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Hurry up time, I really need to heal. by Tushies, literature

Literature

Hurry up time, I really need to heal.

It's said that time heals all pain But really, is that true? Five years on and it still hurts just to think of you. I looked up to you, relied on you. You were like a sister, not just a friend. So why then was I the last to know when you reached your awful end. I may have been only 11 years old; considered too young to understand. But honestly I would've preferred being told, than being left alone to stand. I often wish there was a way that I could see your face, or possibly some miracle allowing me to take your place. A mere 14 years you had lived, with a future already planned. It was filled with wonder, excitement, joy an

Who can I be if I can't be me? by Tushies, literature

Literature

Who can I be if I can't be me?

I like who I like But I shouldn't like who I like That's what I've always been told "It's not right, it's not natural it's disgusting, makes me sick" are just a few of the things I've heard But honestly, I don't understand how love can ever be wrong? If I want to please you I can't be myself and if I can't be myself, who can I be? Tell me mother, who can I be? Because I sure as hell don't know.

Giving up by Tushies, literature

Literature

Giving up

During the process there is no realisation. You do not see what is truly happening, the pain you are causing, the hope that is faltering, the love that you're losing. Then suddenly, in the blink of an eye, it's like you're awakened from a daze. You find that you are alone, that you have pushed people away. It's a frightening prospect. It can happen slowly, silently. It remains hidden until the last moment when finally you understand what is occurring, and then you must make a decision: fight or concede. This is the turning point. This is the moment that can make or break you. This is when you decide: is it worth it?

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Hurry up time, I really need to heal. by Tushies, literature

Literature

Hurry up time, I really need to heal.

Who can I be if I can't be me? by Tushies, literature

Literature

Who can I be if I can't be me?

Giving up by Tushies, literature

Literature

Giving up

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Poem? by Makoto573, literature

Literature

Poem?

Staring ahead into the black My eyes clouding from tears I only wish that I could go back A time I thought was dear I tried to stare into the distance Looking for a light But as I saw there was no way out My heart filled with fright I sat in such a quiet place Coiled up, scared and cold I screamed but no one answered I was sure I was alone From all the shreiks and screams My voice was cracked and dry From all the endless tears I could no longer cry I felt so lifeless Although I was alive, I felt like I was rotting, and already dead inside One more scream escaped my mouth A scream so loud, it'd scare I then began to choke

Masquerade by KIOSMA-0-0, literature

Pain by Sharta-drappa, literature

Literature

Pain

Music pounds in my ears The blade laying next to me Blood red it stares at me asking for more Tears fall down my face No one FUCKING cares My fingers make their way to the knife One, For him. For what he did. Two, for me. For trusting him. Three, for them. They don't understand. Four, for the parents. They don't care. Five, for hell. It's where we all go. Six, for the end. All this we be over soon. An "X" here for the personal shit I told him. Scream. The pain. The hell. The closure this brings to me. God fucking god. Why!? Why the fuck did you give me this living hell! You asshole! I hate you. You fucking bastard! You mother

Cutting Days by SolitaryChild, literature

Literature

Cutting Days

Do you remember those days? I sure do. The days where I'd wear long sleeves or armbands no matter what the weather. cover the scars with tons of make-up Make up stories about the cuts on my arms or legs "The cat did it" "I got it shaving" "I fell in the woods" Stupid excuses like that. I remember the days when people would whisper when I walk in the room. The days when people called me a freak or a emo or a attention whore or a psycho just because I cut myself. I remember the days That I'd hide my razors clean the blood off the floor wash my bedsheets late and night so no one saw. I remember the days when I couldn't sleep

Fucked Up Freak by SolitaryChild, literature

Literature

Fucked Up Freak

Do you see the cuts and scars? She loves painful bliss. She's a masochist She's a masochist Do you see how she likes the chains? And she likes the blood and whips. She's a sadist She's a sadist You see how she spends hours watching sex Some people call her sick She's an addict She's an addict You see how she fucks and flirts with everyone She loves the crazy smut. She's a slut She's a slut You see how she threatens and curses And how everyone calls her a bitch. She's sick She's sick You see how everyone uses her even when she says no but he forces her to the floor She's a whore She's a whore You see how everyone says s

Recovery by SolitaryChild, literature

Literature

Recovery

I may be recovered but I'll never be cured. It still bothers me everyday and sometimes I can't ignore. Its hard to pretend it doesn't bother me. Because I still want to be pretty I still want to be skinny. I still want to starve, Purge, and die. I still feel like I'm ugly and that makes me want to cry. I still try to fight the feelings I still count every bite. I still feel bad about how I look I still cry myself to sleep at night. Everyday I feel ugly, like I want to give up. I still want to just sleep and never give a fuck. It bothers me that I'm not pretty But I have to fight how I feel. I just pray to the Goddess if

About Tushies

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

Oct 27
United Kingdom
Deviant for 15 years
She / Her

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My Bio

hellohello, my name's Yasmin and I'm 17 years old.
currently studying A-levels and truly hating it.
I adore design and music (and yes, they are pretty much my only hobbies).
I'm waiting for the day that I can look out of my window and see the one and only New York City.
I just joined this site to look at beautiful photographs and read poems, not really for my own creative purposes.
send a message my way, I love chatting.

Current Residence: England
Favourite style of art: Impressionism
Operating System: Vista, sadly
Personal Quote: No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.

Favourite Movies

Taken, Millennium Trilogy, HP Series

Favourite TV Shows

SPN, Glee, NCIS, Modern Family, Misfits, Skins

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

The Script, Pink

Favourite Books

HP Series, The Hunger Games Trilogy, Millennium Trilogy

Favourite Games

Tetris

Other Interests

Music, Design, Literature

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Tushies

Feb 5, 2012

Music

0 min read

Whenever people ask me what my passion is, I immediately reply with music and often just receive a roll of the eyes or a similar response. And I get it. So many teenagers come out with the phrase "music is my life omg I couldn't live without it" and it gets boring. But for me, it's genuinely true. Music's been my life since the day I was born. Héll, I'm named after a singer. My dad brought me up listening to Elvis, Frank Sinatra, Johnny Cash, MJ and pretty much all the classic 'oldies' music. At the age of 5 I asked for my very first guitar and taught myself. I pretty much begged my parents to let me attend a Saturday music school and I