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About Traditional Art / Hobbyist ShirahOther/Japan Recent Activity
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Sketches :iconmusicianlover18:musicianlover18 1 4
Literature
The delicate
Some mornings, I think I have finally put the overwhelming sense of self-loathing behind me. Along with the petrifying fear of possessing any fat. 
But waking up on a day such as this, I don't have the strength to emotionally protect myself. I feel it on my skin. Feeling the devil trembling in her cage, eager to starve and deprive me. In the midst of this cacophony of hazy thoughts, a clear one appears. I cannot allow this. I must not give control back to her. 
I stumble into the classroom, smiling, shakily sitting at my desk. A unsteady grip on the pencil, using every ounce of energy to lift up my bag off of the floor. I relish in every pang of hunger, every pain. Let it wash over me, shivering in delight. Looking at others warmly with a unfocused gaze. 
That is always how it illustrates itself, tempting me for more of the provocative sin. You bound with energy, thrilled by the high of watching your spinning body rely on so little. You want to dance to show everyone tha
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Literature
Nightgale
As she turns, not expecting to see anything behind her. 
She is greeted by darkness. 
The darkness comes in many forms. 
In half forgotten strands of memories that might have been jokes and might have been tragedies. 
A nightmare even after waking up, holding her throat in a vice grasp, suffocating her in hysteria. 
Lies that were breathed out and taste vile in her mouth. 
As the clock moves further and further past midnight, she sits awake. 
Watching the darkness outside her window. 
Wondering if she flatters the moon enough would she be in return brought across to a world where the darkness is a beloved companion. 
Instead of a lurking, threatening presence in the depths of her mind. 
She's danced on the edge of madness before, she knows. 
Played on the hairline fracture on which most of her sanity wobbles. 
The nights staring at walls, having long drown out conversations with them about life, death and mortality. 
Dari
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Literature
Weep what you sow
Please don’t be cross. 
When she caresses her soft bones. 
And asks to be alone. 
God knows why... 
She drowns herself in soft melodies and tears 
instead of being here. 
Forgive her when she doesn’t even try. 
All she speaks are lies and faerie tales. 
Christmas lights dance on the floor like rainbow silhouettes. 
She hides while there is sunlight. 
Her mind is cold and callous. 
But can put up a fight, a smile.
Moon stands more inviting. 
To another night of fantasies. 
Illuminating computers and phones she has more faith in. 
Than the family waiting for her awakening. 
Their patience withering. 
She rests of soft colors making her whole. 
Filling the deep, pulsating hole.
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:iconmusicianlover18:musicianlover18 3 8
Literature
Metamorphosis
Too tired for wear. 
The blood has dried, stained on my hair. 
Drained of delight and sorrow. 
I no longer care. 
To dare, to gleam with pride. 
How can I? 
With all this pain I hide behind a smile. 
I tried, to live life, dying for achievements. 
To become independent. To aim high, soar and fly. 
Aspire all to I desire. 
I lay under the night sky. 
The wind chills on my skin. 
Trees whistle and clouds breeze by. 
Free, like a butterfly. Hope still glistening in my eye.
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Literature
My Hope
What gives me life? . . . 
I’ve been asking that question to myself a lot lately. Art is always a word that appears but I brush it off because I’ve long since lost the passion that once filled me. Whenever I sit down to illustrate, I lose interest after a few minutes and all I have is a page of generic looking eyes staring back at me, judging me. Me and my lack of passion, love, life. Boiling this down to the fact that maybe I wasn’t meant to be an artist. There were many others who made beautiful characters, far more beautiful than what I could ever create. Even if my brain started working again. Even if I could channel my emotions into colorful pictures without it overwhelming me completely. I know, I’m rambling but the story isn't over yet, so bear with me. 
My therapist, Luna, I gave her that nickname. Not sure if it is appropriate to give your therapists nicknames, I called my previous one Dumbledore. 
If you’re observant, you’ll
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:iconmusicianlover18:musicianlover18 4 9
Burning away :iconmusicianlover18:musicianlover18 4 0 I'mma fighter~ :iconmusicianlover18:musicianlover18 0 1 Me :iconmusicianlover18:musicianlover18 2 2 Glinda :iconmusicianlover18:musicianlover18 1 0 Doodle 2 :iconmusicianlover18:musicianlover18 1 0 Shana Tove :iconmusicianlover18:musicianlover18 4 0 Screen Shot 2016-11-05 at 2.59.51 AM :iconmusicianlover18:musicianlover18 2 0 Saturday Night :iconmusicianlover18:musicianlover18 4 0 Insomnia :iconmusicianlover18:musicianlover18 1 0 Meet the artist! :iconmusicianlover18:musicianlover18 2 0

Favourites

Princess Moon Butterfly :icononigiri-origami:Onigiri-Origami 4 0 Roxas and Xion :iconpaopu-moo:Paopu-Moo 3 2 En el ciudad :iconjaasp:Jaasp 8 0 oh well, didn't need sleep anyway :iconjaasp:Jaasp 11 0 Help me, It hurts :iconmoonlight4504:Moonlight4504 4 0 /////// :iconjaasp:Jaasp 8 5 Teen Titans Raven :iconartdemaurialashawn21:artdemaurialashawn21 6 0 Teen titans sketch of Robin and Raven :iconartdemaurialashawn21:artdemaurialashawn21 4 0 Teen titans sketch Terra :iconartdemaurialashawn21:artdemaurialashawn21 5 0 Yumi ishiyama code lyoko^^ :iconartdemaurialashawn21:artdemaurialashawn21 11 3 The famous Luna Loud/Ember Mclain :iconartdemaurialashawn21:artdemaurialashawn21 25 5 The famous Ember McLain/Luna Loud! :iconartdemaurialashawn21:artdemaurialashawn21 25 9 Kim possible shego this was fun makeing :iconartdemaurialashawn21:artdemaurialashawn21 14 5 Teen Titans Terra :iconartdemaurialashawn21:artdemaurialashawn21 5 0 Teen Titans jinx :iconartdemaurialashawn21:artdemaurialashawn21 6 0 Danny phantom Ember McClain :iconartdemaurialashawn21:artdemaurialashawn21 9 9

Groups

Activity


My Application to The Crimson Rose Café


Name: Shirah

Age: 18 years old

Race: Fae

Gender: Female

Height: 4’8

Weight: 42 kilograms

Personality: Compassionate, sincere, occasionally jokes around, sometimes quite sullen

Hobbies: Listening to music, drawing, reading, writing depressing poetry and eating snacks.

Appearance: Short curls of brunette hair and bright blue eyes

Bio: Cohabits in cool and inviting environments, enjoys listening to music and being amongst others where she experiences the least social unease-in short, The Crimson Rose Café.
My application to The Crimson Rose Cafe
Greetings. I hope my application is satisfactory, if I missed any criteria please let me know and I shall address it promptly. 
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The pain of every single smile, heartbeat and wound is pulsating, protruding like needles through my heart. I spend every second trying to escape from my own self-created miseries and overwhelming feelings. I tell myself this world is an illusion, that I needn't conform to reality. To the reality of deadlines, expectations and ambitions. I hold no motivation, no passion. Any goals I had as a child have been disregarded as too much work, too much energy, too much commitment. Life was not a contract that I would have ever agreed or signed. I want to exist non-consequently, like a cloud or a tree. I am tumbleweed being blown about through life. Haphazardly. I long for death but cannot drive myself off the ledge. So I lay quietly in this dark and inhabitable space where I allow nobody else to trespass because none of this is real. Because if it is then that would mean having to accept it. And I cannot. I can't accept reality, or life or embrace any kind of future for myself. Hope is disintegrating through my hand like sand. I'm questioning every aspect of my existence and looking for answers anywhere.  
Some mornings, I think I have finally put the overwhelming sense of self-loathing behind me. Along with the petrifying fear of possessing any fat. 
But waking up on a day such as this, I don't have the strength to emotionally protect myself. I feel it on my skin. Feeling the devil trembling in her cage, eager to starve and deprive me. In the midst of this cacophony of hazy thoughts, a clear one appears. I cannot allow this. I must not give control back to her. 

I stumble into the classroom, smiling, shakily sitting at my desk. A unsteady grip on the pencil, using every ounce of energy to lift up my bag off of the floor. I relish in every pang of hunger, every pain. Let it wash over me, shivering in delight. Looking at others warmly with a unfocused gaze. 
That is always how it illustrates itself, tempting me for more of the provocative sin. You bound with energy, thrilled by the high of watching your spinning body rely on so little. You want to dance to show everyone that you're fine, fine, fine. Fine in the way that you are lighter than air just like a breath. You are like a tree feeding only from sunlight and soil. You're rooted deep and buried beneath the cool earth. At the same time, you're precious and delicate as a flower and everyone should marvel at your fragrant passing beauty. Appreciate you even more because you are so very fragile in their hands. 

Girls surround me thin and thinner. A punch to my all too prominent stomach. I want to crawl out of my skin and be someone else. A more perfect, weightless being. A being that could fly and soar. Any stunningly petite beauty in this classroom would suite for my host. Someone who did not wear wounds that ached and pulsated. Making me in the long hours of night cry out and beg for relief. Relief that would never arrive. Instead posses inside something innocent, something that could make one whole. 

I fall into bed. The sheets feel cool against my skin. This was the nourishment that I desired. Not food. I didn't need to eat food. I was stronger than any supposed physical force. With ease I reach inside myself and take hold of whatever I needed to keep walking. Food was only a temptation for the weak. I needed only the hum of my mind. Food brought me no pleasure, no delight. Maybe I thought to myself, if I drifted long enough on this dreaming high of nothing. I could crash into darkness where there would be no more pain. 

The proverbial demon beckoning me further and further into the depths of hell.
As she turns, not expecting to see anything behind her. 
She is greeted by darkness. 
The darkness comes in many forms. 

In half forgotten strands of memories that might have been jokes and might have been tragedies. 
A nightmare even after waking up, holding her throat in a vice grasp, suffocating her in hysteria. 
Lies that were breathed out and taste vile in her mouth. 

As the clock moves further and further past midnight, she sits awake. 
Watching the darkness outside her window. 
Wondering if she flatters the moon enough would she be in return brought across to a world where the darkness is a beloved companion. 
Instead of a lurking, threatening presence in the depths of her mind. 

She's danced on the edge of madness before, she knows. 
Played on the hairline fracture on which most of her sanity wobbles. 
The nights staring at walls, having long drown out conversations with them about life, death and mortality. 
Daring not to look away for fear of what might be just behind her. 

She has whispered all of her deepest fears and most primal desires. 
Releasing a piece of her that had remained dormant for a short time, and yet hadn't ever even materialized itself. 
Where she would not look, in that empty solitude. 
That played, tugged at the corners of her mind. 
Layers of cold and black tasting like old curtains resting on her lips. 
Chilling silk, taunting, touching and caressing her weary mind.

Directions to find me

 

I live at the address of a residential castle for all mythical and magical beings.

Once arriving at this property you will head toward the east tower, climbing cobblestone stairs up to my bedroom on the 42nd floor.

 

You open the door and are greeted by the foot of my bed, my futon usually somewhat made with blankets and stuffed animals. My precious Dango, resting on her throne of soft pillows. Decorated on my walls are pictures, posters and cute stickers. Across from my bed is humble, white colored wooden desk. Marked with crayons and marker and splashes of paint. A delicately detailed dresser where I keep clothes and an assortment of other belongings. Then followed by a sturdy bookshelf, that holds various books. Usually novels of fiction and large thick papered tones filled with lush illustrations by famous artists. Then my closet crammed with haphazardly hanged cardigans and purses.

 

My room smells often of drier sheets and chamomile tea, and sometimes wisps of a flowery fragrance. Rarely quiet, a hum of the box-fan, soft snores or the most likely being my music loudly playing from either my headset or speakers, usually the sound so powerful, echoes off my walls and bounces around wildly.   

 

  • Eating: Cake

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Shirah
Artist | Hobbyist | Traditional Art
Japan
It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance
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Comments


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:iconmoonlight4504:
Moonlight4504 Featured By Owner 2 hours ago  Student Digital Artist
thanks for the fav! :D :D
Reply
:iconmusicianlover18:
musicianlover18 Featured By Owner 2 hours ago  New Deviant Hobbyist Traditional Artist
You're welcome :D Thank you for the llama <3 
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:iconjcsolis01:
JCSolis01 Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the fave! It really means a lot. :D
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:iconmusicianlover18:
musicianlover18 Featured By Owner 1 day ago  New Deviant Hobbyist Traditional Artist
No problemo, Justin <3 
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:iconyelliebeans:
Yelliebeans Featured By Owner 1 day ago  New Deviant Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thankees for the fav <3 :3
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:iconmusicianlover18:
musicianlover18 Featured By Owner 1 day ago  New Deviant Hobbyist Traditional Artist
You're very welcome ^_^ Thank you for the llama badge! 
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:iconyelliebeans:
Yelliebeans Featured By Owner 1 day ago  New Deviant Hobbyist Traditional Artist
No problem, anytime! :3
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:iconrollarius55:
rollarius55 Featured By Owner 2 days ago  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Truly appreciate this fav!:w00t:

When the curtain drops by rollarius55
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:iconmusicianlover18:
musicianlover18 Featured By Owner 1 day ago  New Deviant Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Truly, as always <3 you're very welcome ^_^ 
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:iconmellodee:
Mellodee Featured By Owner Mar 21, 2017   Digital Artist
Thank you for the fave :)
Have a nice day!
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