The Walking Dead PEWDIECRY! Part 3
New Problems, Old Memories
Cry was glad to know the Pewdie's weak spot was food. Means no matter what , coyote and rodgie berries were the answer. Pewdiepie was laughing and blushing and being himself again. It was just another afternoon when a knock on the RV door made both, Felix & Ryan, jump. Felix gets brave and decides to be the one who opens the door. He slowly opens it. He sees a tiny dark-skinned female child with amber eyes that had a gray sort of tint, but were full of terror. She pushed the door open and fell onto the floor, yelling, "CLOSE IT! CLOSE THE DOOR! CLOSE THE DOOR! HURRY!" Cry stood there in shock for a few seconds, then close the door as he began to hear the moans of the walking dead approaching. Cry backed away from the door, still in shock. As the zombies continued to pound at the door, Pewdiepie took the young girl into the kitchen as he fixed her a cup of rodgie berry juice. Felix walked to Ryan, insisting "Hey, maybe we should get going.
Scars (Dave Story)Warning: Self-harm
I put the razor back into the drawer, shoving it closed angrily, not caring how loud it was. I could do anything, Bro wasn't home. When was he? I sigh as I clean myself off in the bathroom, I can't have blood every where. Bro wouldn't notice if I had shoved my wrists in his face and yelled look but I cleaned for my benefit, I don't like having a mess. I didn't cut my wrists before, no that was the obvious place. It meant you were an attention seeker crying out for help, for someone, but that isn't what i was doing. I used to cut my legs, but when I found that the wrists hurt more I quickly switched to that and started wearing long sleeves. No one questioned me surprisingly. It was the middle of spring, but I wore winter clothes ironically.
It was just my escape, a way to fill the void inside of me. I prefered not to talk about it, talking never helped.
Another day of me hiding iin the corner, eating by myself, and w
Walking Dead PEWDIECRY(Don't Worry Bout It Cry)"Psst! Felix!" Felix stirred and moaned an annoyed moan, before drifting back to sleep. Moments later, he heard the whisper again. "Psst, Felix!" The whisper said Felix strangely. Fell-ix. That sounded strangely like....MARZIA! Felix shot up out of his deep sleep, his eyes wide as he looked around the room. He looked over to his side, Ryan wasn't there. Clementine was no where to be seen either. Felix looked around the RV, it seemed to be ominious midnight blue, with a full moon illuminating it only from a small window. Little magical specks seemed to float around, almost like orbs. It's beautiful, Felix thought to himself just before he spotted her. Marzia. She was standing off on the other side of the room, looking at Felix with a sly smile across her face. No, not her face. It was different. She was pale, eyes were not as bright. She wasn't like what Cry shot in the forest, no not quite a zombie. Just as if she were a picture, and the color was washed out. She had bags under her eye
3 Years (JohnLock)It's been 3 years. Each day I expected some improvement, some sort of feeling besides grief and depression. Each day I was greeted by disappointment when none of my dreams were ever even close to coming true. Not without him.
Attempting to ignore everything that was telling me I should just lay down in bed for the rest of my life, I got up today and was currently on my way to get some coffee. I had fancied coffee when he was with me, but now it's far more than an addiction. It was like him with his cigarettes, he couldn't live without at least one a day. Nicotine patches didn't help at all. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, expecting to see a text from him telling me to meet him somewhere, as this was a daily thing. I still pull out my phone every day and expect to see "New Message from: SH" but no, it's empty now. Nothing, there isn't anything from him anymore. How could there be? He is gone. I sighed and shoved the phone back into my pocket, and pushed into the cafe. I looked
Tired of LivingThere are just some days where I don’t feel pretty enough, smart enough, relevant enough, tall enough, skinny enough, successful enough, funny enough, or happy enough. Some days, I just feel like no matter what I do, it will never be enough.
As if even if you won a medal for being the most beautiful person inside and out, no-one would notice me anyway. If I were to finish something huge, no-one would care. I did charity work, and no-one would commend me for it. I finally accomplished anything in my life, no-one would even give me a "You did good, friend." Maybe, even if I committed suicide, no-one would cry nor would my grave have flowers or balloons from those I called friends and the very little disliked family I had.
Some days, I accept the fact I am invisible, simply a ghost lurking the halls. Other days, no matter how loud I yell, no-one looks my way, and it takes a daily toll on my sanity -or what is left of it. If I spoke to you, would you really listen, or would you just