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If the Sun Doesn't Rise for MeIf the sun does not rise for me tomorrow
Don't bathe in your sorrow
Don't come and mourn
Even though I am torn
I will see the light at the end of the tunnel
If you wallow in your tears for me
The person I was, please see
Remember me at my best, not at my worst
Like when we laughed excessively, for a first
Or when I looked into your eyes and realized
That maybe something in life could be idolized
If the sun does not rise for me tomorrow
Think of me
But let your future be full
11 Things I Love About DA11. Chatroom Events
Imagine sitting in your desk chair and talking with other deviants from around the world in a crowded chatroom. People are throwing emoticons like candy and announcing they will 'brb' after they go the restroom. Then, one of the admins posts that there is a scribble event for the next thirty minutes with three prize winners. You hastily download the deviation with a few random lines out of it, and because you're poor, you upload it to MS Paint. Sweat pours from your face as you try to make sense out of those lines. And just two minutes before time is up, you upload it to your scraps and link the thumbnail in the chat. Congrats, you're done! Just kidding, tee-hee. Now, you have to wait patiently whilst three to five admins decided on the winners. Seven grueling minutes later, they post the winners. Well, you didn't get the 50 first-place prize… Nor the 35 second-place prize. But, hey! Isn't that your fox with the freakishly round bubbleg
1420 MHzHe keeps a list wadded in the depths of his front, left pocket: where he holds his keys, and the forgotten/abandoned shell of a lone pistachio. The list is his biography, written in the shape of Argentine Spanish:
Me gustan los tomates en verano.
Yo amo a mi novio.
Nos besamos. (Mi novio chupa mis dedos de los pies.)
Las estrellas cantan sus canciones.
Mi nombre no es Eduardo.
Vivo con Jacobi ahora.
His pants are wadded, now, on summer-warmed hardwood; his shirt is draped over the back of a cane-back chair, the most incongruous of antiques in Jacobi’s tech-nerd lair. Headphones clamp his ears, and fill his head with the lisping whisper of interstellar hydrogen, broadcasting itself at a neat 1420 MHz. Bedroom is the wrong word for a place like this, despite the sorts of furnishings one might expect. There is a bed, a dresser, a bookshelf and two nightstands cramped with magazines, graphic novels. An alarm clock
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More