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Literature
Abuse and Fandom
Abuse and Fandom
Above all reason and logic, I’ve always wanted people to be happy. This is especially true for fictional characters.
Growing up in an abusive household, you learn to shove down your emotions and desires, to put on a face that is hard and strong, while you yourself are trembling on the inside. Your spirit begs to be let free, begs to be somewhere where your father’s footsteps and voice don’t send your body into rigamortis with a side of trembling dog.
Fear haunts you. Sleepless nights where you wonder if this is the day someone actually asks you ask about your bruises.
Can you lie well enough?
Will they care enough to not believe you?
To look past the trembling lip and the shaking fine that falls from your lying lips?
 
Growing up gay in a christian, republican home in the South is one thing that sticks with you. As if it is tar upon your skin, the shame that remains attached to your spirit peels off ever so slowly; and if it does come off it take
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Literature
A Vault
I am a vault.
Holding it all behind these solid walls,
locked away from prying eyes.
Strength in the silence
solace in the things left unsaid.
Keep it together,
fill these empty spaces with resolve.
Weakness uninvited behind these locks
in a desperate attempt at control.
If tears fall ignore them please.
I am a rock.
Holding up those who need me.
A shoulder to cry on,
my head turned to hide the tears in my eyes.
I am crumbling.
The sea of pain wearing me down slowly.
Where is my shoulder?
Desperately clenching my jaw to hold it in.
Lord you must be the one holding me up
for I see no way I could make it through this grief
without your arms around me.
Weakness flows in the moments of silence
when there is no one to hold up
the mask comes off and the tears fall.
Strength must fill these empty spaces.
Lord take my burden
for it is too heavy for me to bear in this time of grief.
Hold me as I hold my loved ones.
Wipe away my tears as I wipe away theirs,
my own left unseen.
I am a vault.
Ali
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Literature
Sanity Seeker: Prolouge
Prologue (What a weird word)
Secrets. We all have them, don't we? Normal people can't live without them. They're those little white lies you tell people so they don't get their feelings hurt; or so you can avoid something uncomfortable. You keep the most secrets from the people you love; the ones people say you should trust the most. Like family, how on earth could you ever trust your big secrets to your family?
There are some things you can't tell people. Like the loneliness, the pain of being misunderstood, and being categorized into some clique or mindset that you don't even like. The way that you feel most alone in a room full of people, or in a large family full of siblings. Those are things people generally don't want to hear. So you keep them to yourself, and you wonder if anyone really knows you. If anyone could ever really understand.
That's where I found myself, some number of years ago. Alone and wondering if the world would ever send me something good instead of the bullshi
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Literature
Fetish Experimentation
The feeling of restraint,
freedom in bondage.
Teeth marking
pupils dilating.
Gasps escaping
Grins forming.
Boundaries crossed
Safewords left unsaid.
Lip biting
bruises forming.
Leather creaking
movement increasing.
Bodies heating
passion flaming.
Arousal peaking
feelings spiraling.
Freedom in bondage
interest peaked.
Ali
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Literature
Snakes from my Subconsciosness
Memories unwelcoming,
blossoming
into more than shadows
solidifying uninvited.
Stalking through nightmares,
a face I'd rather forget
forever.
Resurfacing in its
cruel and twisted pleasure.
Out of my control,
out of my mind
you slink forward,
serpent with a smile.
Touches spreading
that come from
hands over a mouth,
sickness in my stomach.
Destruction follows
wherever you slither.
Slither away
dearest father.
Leave my broken childhood
be,
and the knowledge that
you thrust me into womanhood
long before I knew what it meant.
Unwelcome memories,
slithering into consciousness.
Ali
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Literature
A Dash of Fakeness
Your presence is missed.
A sigh and ½ the light
gone so easily.
Only ½ of one shines
when you are not near.
Subdued & slightly empty,
I feel alien
never belonging.
Is it simply me,
that notices this emptiness,
this seperatness?
When the world looks do they see
that small red thread,
reaching out to wherever
you are.
I have not one but two faces.
One that I show,
happy and bright
eager and animated.
Then there's the me missing you.
The sadness and frowns
of loneliness.
My hand ever reaching
to wherever you are.
My heart yearning
my smile holding a little fakeness.
Without you my love,
I am incomplete.
Ali
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Literature
Storm Duality
Wind and rain
rampaging through the sky.,
escapading throughout the earth.
My small corner
hosts their games,
watching in amusement
as their play grows more rapid.
Faster and faster
whipping through the trees
shacking leaves from their hold,
on our sanity.
Thunder rolling
lightning crashing.
Cleansing through violent temper tantrums
unending joy
at the destruction & healing they cause
rain and wind cascade down the streets
unapologetically
exciting and soothing.
Ever a duality.
Ali
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Literature
Undiscovered Passion
Your tongue slides over my skin,
heat transfers from your lips to my own.
Your eyes smolder on my body,
lighting up this passion between us.
Bodies sliding,
sweat dripping down.
Blush rising ever higher
as your crooked smile
graces your face.
Your hands so slender
long fingers tracing patterns of desire over well traveled ground.
Nails scratching,
teeth biting,
nipping frantically, violently
a tongue coming out to soothe the heat that followed.
Hair between my fingers
the strands so beautiful in the fading light.
Your body still a mystery,
I glance eagerly to see where the hair leads on your skin.
Unraveling your mysteries,
revealing the passion lying underneath.
Ali
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Literature
Blurring the Lines
The lines continue to blur,
and I wonder when
or if
clarity will ever come.
The pain of my memories weighs me down,
and the hatred once in your eyes haunts me.
The weakness,
and the lack of control.
Shall I always be the one being hurt?
The one with no way of retaliation,
no hope of defense.
My tears mean nothing.
My strength even less.
Always you take
and you take
and I am helpless.
Helpless to your strength and your power.
To your rage and your hatred of me.
You haunt me in my dreams,
strike me in my day to day moments.
You lie silently waiting for an opening,
slipping in the reminder of pain you caused.
You live on as if nothing was destroyed,
as if all turned out fine.
As if I don't struggle.
As if my dreams are not filled with screams,
night terrors of violence and looming men,
hate on faces and fists on my skin.
You say hello as if you have not made loving
and being loved so much more difficult.
As though he does not get hurt when I burst into tears,
while he sits wondering why I
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Literature
Mourning Period
Emotions too strong,
they were put away
to save myself from
falling apart.
Locked away,
in that painful place
within my heart.
Love and grief
mixed into unending tears.
Reopened without permission
they threaten to overturn
my reason.
Illness that attacks the body,
leaves a family behind
that's broken,
far from peace of mind.
How long till these feelings subside?
How long must I tread water,
trying desperately to stay afloat?
How long till the word
cancer
stops placing fear in my heart,
sickness in my stomach,
panic in my head.
How long is this mourning period,
where does the prayer and the fear meet,
for the line is a blur to me.
Will this healing come,
shepherded on the waves of pain?
Ali
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Literature
Alone in Invisibility
I pray that thou art not my bosom friend in this pain.
That you have never felt helpless,
trapped,
useless.
To see your dreams disregarded,
your passions scoffed at.
I pray you never wondered as I did,
if the pain in your eyes
is as palpable as it seems to be.
That you will never have to hope fervently
that your mask is in place,
for weakness cannot take the stage.
Oh that you never experience the feeling,
of a father who doesn't see you.
Who refuses to accept who you are,
denying your essence.
Oh let it be that all you see in his eyes
is acceptance,
instead of cold disregard.
I forever wish to be alone in this way.
For the pain of a father
who doesn't see you,
I know all too well.
Ali
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Literature
Dreamers be King
A new age,
dawning of a new kingdom.
Where imagination rules,
the left hemisphere left by the wayside.
Dreams be king,
reason be flighty.
Free reign to the dreamers,
logic caged,
to be visited another day.
Be,
be more than you can be
in the land of men.
Hold that spark in your hearts,
never letting it fade.
Be a ruler,
art flowing from your soul,
bringing forth worlds
scarce imagined by mortal men
in their limited span of life on this planet.
A new land,
forgiving of mix ups,
eager to see
always more
more
of you.
Ali
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Literature
Love is Change
Showing love,
expressing the way I feel.
I change,
evolve and improve.
I work so hard to be.
I reveal flaws
and pain,
that I tried desperately to cover.
Past mistakes,
hated former selves
that I shoved away,
ready to put aside and forget.
Pain and regret,
held in my heart.
A lock on the door,
a key in my hand.
Yet for you…
You only,
I unlock this door.
Fling it wide,
shining light
on things I thought best forgotten.
Revealing more and more,
for your scrutiny.
You survey and express,
disbelief and understanding filtering
through my former selves.
Wonderment that you don't simply walk away,
not looking back at the mess that was me.
Hate remaining,
lurking in corners of misunderstanding,
expelled only by force
otherwise remaining,
clinging to disbelief.
Yet you shine the light unwaveringly,
and so they must flee.
I cry and wail,
pain in the face of my enlightenment.
Yet you ease my fears,
take my hand
place a key in my hands.
My heart,
is all you say.
I turn the key,
and begin explor
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Literature
Streetlight Time
The place hasn't changed,
only aged as I.
Years passed and perceptions change.
Who I am,
is no longer who I was.
My parents house no longer my own,
is it not what I expected?
to grow out of the feeling of comfort,
when I walked through the door
awkwardness moving in to take its place.
When did going home,
turn into
visiting my mother's house?
No longer at peace,
the uncomfortable feeling
not welcome but present.
I see myself still
skinning my knees in front of the house,
crashing my bike, skates, skateboard, scooter…
the list could go on.
Dirt and grime,
bare feet planted unsteadily on the ground.
Chalk on the road,
soccer in the yard,
racing the sun to get home on time.
Time…
It's flown faster than I realized,
aging me overnight.
I've grown old by accident.
Some say 21 is young,
but remembering 11 not so long ago,
I feel aged and a day.
Perceptions are as swiftly changing as time,
never giving a sign as to when they'll occur
no advanced warning given.
Accept things…
Sur
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Literature
Walls Erected, Entrance Denied
Have I retreated?
Have my walls shut you out.
did I leave you wondering?
Barriers in place.
no options for entering.
Retreat into myself.
Close the pain behind a door,
only I holding the key.
Rejection of your comfort,
denying you access
to emotions best kept…
Do you wonder,
at my pain?
Wish you could shoulder my hearts discontent?
Closed off
heart guarded,
does it make you long
for heart to heart moments,
or could you care less?
Ali
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Literature
The Real
Fierce.
Soul burning.
Unwaveringly myself.
Unapologetic.
Walls erected,
protecting my fragile self,
strength thrust upfront.
Fragility put aside
in order to succeed.
The whole me,
the complete scene.
Only the first scene
revealed to the readers,
searching for the right reader,
to reveal the rest.
Many read and see the end,
not eager for more,
desiring limitations
seeking less.
Scared of passion,
fearful of the real,
running from the truth.
Read on,
search for meaning,
search for me.
The truth is only ½ revealed.
Your search for minimalism
will bring only a portion of me.
Read on,
and maybe you'll discover,
more than I reveal.
Ali
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Alexis Nikole
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I'm a Feminist, and I believe in equality and rights for all. I've pretty much abandoned this site sadly, for I've found my true home on Tumblr. If you're really interested in getting to know me, I'm tumbling over there most of the time.
Interests
Hey ya'll, so if you want to keep track if me I'm Lexigirl20 on Tumblr, and I've written something new!!  Does anyone want me to post it??

Activity


Might be getting back into this, if people want me too. Maybe. 

Abuse and Fandom

Above all reason and logic, I’ve always wanted people to be happy. This is especially true for fictional characters.

Growing up in an abusive household, you learn to shove down your emotions and desires, to put on a face that is hard and strong, while you yourself are trembling on the inside. Your spirit begs to be let free, begs to be somewhere where your father’s footsteps and voice don’t send your body into rigamortis with a side of trembling dog.

Fear haunts you. Sleepless nights where you wonder if this is the day someone actually asks you ask about your bruises.

Can you lie well enough?

Will they care enough to not believe you?

To look past the trembling lip and the shaking fine that falls from your lying lips?

 

Growing up gay in a christian, republican home in the South is one thing that sticks with you. As if it is tar upon your skin, the shame that remains attached to your spirit peels off ever so slowly; and if it does come off it takes pieces of you, reluctant to let you go.

The fear of discovery, of rejection, of hatred.

And it’s funny isn’t it, that despite your father rejecting everything you already were that you feared so deeply coming out to him? As if his rejection would break you more than the feeling of his wedding ring on his fist busting open your lip, the helplessness you feel as you fall on the carpet of your family home thick in your throat. An illness you can’t quite get over.

 

So Happiness. I’ve always wanted it for my fictional characters, and I didn’t know why I became so emotionally distraught when their happy ending didn’t come, why I wept so tumultuously at their misfortune. Joining fandoms exasperated these feelings, as I found that millions of people were also invested and deeply saddened when the characters they loved did not achieve peace and love. Yet still I struggled with the why’s of my emotional attachment, the deepness of happiness and despair I feel about something not real.

 

When I was a child, I would immerse myself so deeply into my book that I was unable to hear what was going on around me. When I watched television, my mother often remarked that I was deaf to the world around me. Indeed, it seemed that I had mentally climbed into the pages, the screen. And I see now that I retreated to worlds that were far more friendly than my own, that did not care that I was loud, that my heart was big and bleeding, where my tears were not answered by a slap and a raised voice. Where I watched people express their feelings and marveled that they were listened to, respected.

I was 23 when I realized what a panic attack was. I was 10 when I had my first panic attack, or perhaps I was 9, memories are so elusive when you are young. I had done something wrong according to my stepfather and was sent to my room, where I was to remain until he decided to release me. Hours passed, and oh how I wept. I wept and I was all too aware of how intensely alone I felt, how alone I always felt. How alone I would always feel. The walls began to spin, and my breath began to become strangled within my convulsing throat, my chest heaving. Blackness rose around me, familiar in its calmness and protection. When I awoke I was still alone, still afraid. No one had come to check on me, though it had been at least 1 or 2 more hours. This taught me that I would indeed always be alone, and that I had to learn to carry my pain on my own.

 

No one was coming.

 

Reading was an escape from a world that did not want me, that did not accept me in all my odd freakish mannerisms. My friends were all fictional, providing me the love and support that I desperately sought in the real world. As I grew I became more attached to my fictional worlds, and now at 25 I am what is known as a shipper, or a fangirl. These are terms that are specific to those on the internet who find themselves heavily invested in various fictional universes. We write about them, we rejoice in their successes, mourn their losses. We look to their world to express our own, to express ourselves.

We turn to them because we are still searching for happiness and acceptance in our own lives, and if we cannot find it then at least someone else can.

 

So why invest in fictional characters? They are my friends; they are my confidants. They are people who never let me down. I seek happiness for them because if they are happy, surely the little girl who stood so proud and broken, tears burning in her eyes in the face of her abuser, has a chance for happiness as well. I protect them in ways that I could not protect that little girl, hold them in my arms as she longed for someone to hold her, and support them as she still, at the age of 25, longs for others to support her.

 

When we love characters it is because we see a piece of ourselves in them. Their pain, their joy, is wrapped up in our own joy and sorrow. I am not ashamed to profess my love for fictional characters, as I often see the little girl with falling tears, trying desperately to love herself. Her small hands over her ears, blocking out the harsh words those around her are piling on her exhausted spirit. I love for her, and I love myself because of it. 

Abuse and Fandom
This is something that I wrote a while ago, kinda different from the last thing I posted. I might be uploading the things I've been working on, if you guys would be interested it that. Let me know. 
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Hey ya'll, so if you want to keep track if me I'm Lexigirl20 on Tumblr, and I've written something new!!  Does anyone want me to post it??

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:iconspider999now:
spider999now Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2015  Student Digital Artist
thank you so much for the watch :iconsupertighthugplz:!!! <3
Reply
:iconebony-tiger:
Ebony-Tiger Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2014  Student General Artist
:heart:
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:iconebony-tiger:
Ebony-Tiger Featured By Owner Sep 30, 2013  Student General Artist
Ali, I miss you.  I hope you are doing well...
Reply
:iconstormbringer23:
StormBringer23 Featured By Owner Aug 2, 2013
Happy birthday Ali! :heart:
Reply
:iconcaycowa:
caycowa Featured By Owner Jul 15, 2013
Thanks for watching my gallery. Cheers! :ahoy: 
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:iconmarmottegarou:
Marmottegarou Featured By Owner Jun 26, 2013  Professional Filmographer
Hi ::) thanks for the fav on [link]:
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:iconboffiexd:
BoffieXD Featured By Owner May 17, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you so much for the WATCH Sugar :heart: you just made my day!!! :icongrin--plz:
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:iconpoet4jesus16:
poet4jesus16 Featured By Owner May 18, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Yay! I am glad! :D
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:iconbodaszilvia:
bodaszilvia Featured By Owner Feb 21, 2013  Professional Artisan Crafter
thank you :heart:
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:iconpoet4jesus16:
poet4jesus16 Featured By Owner Feb 21, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome!
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