..I've got a box full of your toys..

Hello and welcome! As you can see, you can just call me Wepeel. Here's just a little world where I'll post things I think and like.

And The World's Got Me Dizzy, Again

I'm tired. The people I know are driving me out of my mind. I can't win, no matter what I do. Everyone wants all of my time and attention, and when I can't give it to them they act like I'm Satan. I just want to make everybody happy, but if I do s...

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Tonight feels sad and sleepy.

Here is some music to be sleepy and sad to.
Enjoy!

The Beautiful Thing

The beautiful thing about life is that when you hit rock bottom, you can't go lower--
Until you do.
And then there you are, below the ocean floor, knee deep in Hell.
God has always loved challenges.
So challenge you he will,
A game of cat and mouse wherein the cat is infinitely powerful and all knowing, and wants something more interesting than a game of chess.

The view is astounding when you can look up at other people's lowest.
You get used to the headache behind your eyes
And soon you get used to the idea of having grey hair before you turn eighteen.
Sometimes you want to laugh,
And sometimes it all makes you cry.
But it's easy to cherish the eye of the storm during a hurricane, even if all you've got are puppy kisses and stolen laughter.

Reading Hellsing at midnight

Jesus, it's so fucking good! I forgot how much I dug it. I'm tired, but I can't sleep. Might as well read some more.

Prompts and Drabbles 1-5

Hi! Here are a few little things I wrote based on the prompts. I might be posting more of these later.

1. Threshold Of Success – And I'm standing there; my toes are barely hanging over the ledge, curling around sharp, frosted edges of what I know is something bigger than I am. My arms rise, coming alive, climbing up from my sides and outward. They stretch. They reach for nothing. Everything in me tilts, I am diagonal, and then I'm falling. Down, down, down—I'm crossing the threshold of success.

2. Just A Gag – She knows what she is. It isn't a secret, and she knows that. She knows a lot, if you ever want to listen to her. You don't. She knew that, too. She will never be a point of interest, not the way she wants to be. She is her skin color. She is her accent, her limited English; she is the way she shakes and stammers around you. She is just a gag to you. She knows she is something to laugh at. Foreign. Dumb. Mute to you. She knows. She knows a lot, if you ever want to ask. You don't.

3. Glamor Boy – For whatever it's worth, I think he's beautiful. He seems to glimmer, even in dim lighting. His nail-polish always matches his eyeshadow, and his lipstick gleams when it catches the Sun. His lips are so full, so soft-looking; I want them to touch mine. Just once, to see what it would feel like. I think he takes better care of his hair within any single day than I've looked at mine in my entire life. I think that's beautiful. I want to know what his hair would feel like between my fingers. I want to be the one painting his nails. I want to be able to stroke the blush onto his pretty, pink cheeks. I want him to think he's beautiful, too.

4. Look Lively – Look happy. Look lively. Be confident. Put one foot directly in front of the other—yes, precisely like that—remember, heel to toe, heel to toe, heel to toe. Keep your back straight, sweetie, do you want a hunch? No, no, I don't think so. Hold your chin up. Keep your eyes straight forward—stop looking at your feet! Don't you want to win for Mommy? Sure you do, baby, of course you do. That's my baby. Don't be afraid to stick out your chest for the judges, honey, we want to win. Exactly like that! Good girl. Don't you remember what I just said? Stop looking like you're going to cry. Look happy. Look lively. Just like that.

5. That's Manners – I couldn't hold in the laughter that bubbled up in my gut when you introduced yourself as, "Annie fuckin' Marshall." and extended your calloused hand and dirty fingernails out to my prim and proper father. He still shook your hand, of course. I don't think my mother knew what to say, either, other than, "Oh." and "It's my pleasure to meet you, Miss Marshall." She didn't forget to shoot me a dirty look for my outburst, though. As if I cared. I found strange confidence expanding to fill my heart around you, as you cackled at my father, "Eugene? What a stupid name!" They may have their etiquette and interior design, but your honesty? That's what I call manners.