~Estelore

Estelore

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About Me Member Self-proclaimed Genius EsteloreFemale/United States

Recent Activity Deviant for 5 Months
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Statistics 35 Deviations
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Not the SameSaying I need you and saying I am ready are not the same thing. Not the Same
by ~Estelore

Rebuttal to the ArtlessI should show you the calluses on my hands,
how I've worked past the point of soft, tender weakness and sensitivity that was my early childhood. The shields around my heart are as tough and impermeable
as the skin on my palms
and the fingertips of my left hand,
where steel-wound copper strings bit the flesh
and claimed for my music a payment in pain and patience.
You've never cleaned a thick layer of charcoal off your hands and face and laughed at the warpaint in the mirror. You've never stepped out of a studio or practice room with your shoulderblades aching at work and play w Rebuttal to the Artless
by ~Estelore

In Medias ResStart at the ending.

A noise and then no sound at all.

I taste blood in my mouth. You're in pain. I shiver violently and the world spins around me. I can feel your eyes on my face, but my eyes are searching for you and can't seem to find you. Your hand strokes my hair and something wet and salty hits my cheek and runs between my lips and across my tongue. You're shaking.
I can hear you now, barely, a thick sobbing over the ringing and pounding in my left ear. The right is all silence except for a sixty-cycle whine like a mosquito or a television left running but muted. It hurts in a distant way. I know In Medias Res
by ~Estelore

For YouAsk, and I'll capture the sun in my bare hands and hold it for you.
Will you be my light and let your burning heart beat between my fingers?
Either way, I will still reach for you, up and up, yearning for your warmth.
If I am burned, then I am burned, and sorrow not. I've always been ash. For You
by ~Estelore

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Giving this journal skin a test-drive. :)

Tue Nov 10, 2009, 9:42 AM

OH, and by the way, you rock. Love you much.

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Listening to: my computer purring and whirring
Reading: the stuff I'm typing
Watching: the screen, not my fingers
Playing: mental solitaire
Eating: My pride, over the course of millennia
Drinking: oxygen with some nitrogen and argon tossed into it

Skin by `ginkgografix

deviantID

I'm brilliant.
I'm beautiful.
I'm blatantly, brutally honest.

I'm not even close to perfect.

I am a musician and poet, and those things define me. In two words, I'm a Lyric Soul.
For a few people, I'm an angel and a star.

I plan to be an architect. Architecture, after all, is frozen music. ( <= Goethe for the win!)

I read Dante, Milton, Goethe, Poe, Andersen, Grimm, Pullman, Tolkien, Lewis, LeGuin, King, Coville, Yolen, Nix, Gaiman, Shusterman, John Green, Applegate, Sun Tzu, Machiavelli, and a whole butt-load of others. Books are some of my dearest friends.

The message board RAF is my online home, and I overuse Gmail's chat feature.

I garden and practise Okinawan karate. I dance poorly, draw decently with black pen, and enjoy GIMP a bit overmuch.
I take advantage of every opportunity to use my father's digital camera.

My iPod is 120gb, and his name is Gilligan, for he is my Little Buddy.
My violin is V, my clarinet is Clare (as in Clarence), my keyboard is Caius (named after one of the men that plotted to kill Caesar, NOT the Twi-vamp), and I consider the treble clef, daggers, and black butterflies to be personally symbolic to me.

I'm a patient, persuasive, persistent, manipulative little freak of a person.
Religion is everything to me, but I'm not out to convert anybody.
I have recurring nightmares of drowning.
My heroine is a fictional character.
I tend to hurt the people that love me.
My kindness is cruelty; my mercy is unthinkable.
I am selfish.
I am an altruist.
I am an idealistic, fatalistic, realistic optimist.
I am a diplomat and statistician.
Personality quizzes have yet to determine if I am INFJ or INTJ. I'm fine with that.
No matter who you are, I love you.
I'm lonely in a crowded room.

I just want to go home.