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I saw a man today, as I walked towards a beach in La Paz, Baja California Sur. A man with disgruntled hair and dirty trousers. A man with no shirt or shoes, in 100℉ weather. A man who I saw shifting and looking through a giant trash bin. A bin so big he fit inside. There was another man near him, near his car. This man was clean. With his tidy clothes, clean hair and a phone near his ear. This man looked at the man in the trash bin with distaste, as if he too was as unwanted as the trash he was currently in. As I walked down to the beach I saw a little boy throw away a half eaten ice cream and thought how the man could've possibly enjoyed an ice cream. I stood near some rocks, near the shade. I waited with my uncle, who too chose to not get in the water. After a short while, we walked backed and I looked to see if the man was still in the trash bin, but he was no longer there. As I shifted my gaze to the left, I see the homeless man under the palapa. He was no longer in the trash bin, but eating something he had found in it. I thought about how bad it must be for him to be forced to scavenge for unwanted food. Said food that has no doubt touched other unsanitary items. Which was also trapped inside a bin, sitting in 100 degree weather with flies surrounding the entire bin. I felt sad, thinking about it. I wanted to hug the man, to take him with me and feed him all that there was. But all I could do was watch him, for I had no money with me. And who knows, maybe the homeless man didn't want to be pitied, didn't want to be given money and seen as man in need of help. But at the same time, who can't help but feel that way for a man who is seen scavenging for something to eat.
She could not, She would not. She could not bear the thought of grabbing attention, to raise her voice louder than she liked. The eyes of strangers boring into hers. Heads turning as she walks around tables. She could not ask for yellow pepper packets, she wanted to cry. Something as feeble as asking for some condiments and anxiety takes over. She would kill anxiety if it were human, but for now it seems to be killing her. Anxiety, the thought of speaking. Anxiety, the thought of other people. Anxiety and presentations. Anxiety and tests. Anxiety and attention. Anxiety and making friends. Anxiety and overthinking. Anxiety takes over the big and the small, the most complex and simplistic. Anxiety swallows you whole.
Dear Mr.Death
What is it like?
To see the life taken from your prey's eyes
To take sweet kindred souls of old and young alike?
Fully knowing you will cause sadness beyond measure
Yes, you know who and what death is
Death, both peaceful and painful
Death, as natural as breathing
Death, as pungent as a rose
Death, the same when all ends
Feared, hated, forgotten, and alone
Mutual Understanding

A group of high school kids, some tan and some fair skinned, but nevertheless all Hispanic. All sitting in their assigned advisory seat, they joke about, talk about their futures, and their family. Somewhere along the way, they began talking about their childhood. Isain, a dark skinned boy with black hair had mentioned something they've all done while at stores like La Vallarta. "You know what I used to do? I used to sink my hands in the dry rice and beans." A green eyed, fair skinned girl then added on, "I used to hide the scoop by covering it with the frijoles just so people had to find it." They all laughed, a wave of nostalgia coursing through their hearts. "You know what else?" Every one listened intently to the boy. "If you were to do something to piss of my mom, she'd whoop your ass." "I swear, didn't matter if it was the belt, the chancla or the gancho!" One replied. "Dude, once my mom got so mad she threw the remote." Replied another. But it was at this that the joking died a bit down because inside they all had a mutual understanding of what it all was. They all know what it was like to be hit. It was part of many households like theirs, sometimes creating abusive kids, depressed kids, but also (ironically) stronger kids. They all had an understanding of the pain it brought to them as a kid. The physical, the emotional pain. To be hit by your mother or father was at times perplexing in itself, but you still loved them and just because they hit you doesn't mean they don't love you.  Somehow the emotional always hurt more than the physical. They all look at each other and start joking around once more.
Our Coin Jar

I remember the day we first moved. For years has my single mother wished to have her own house, and now we did. No one to owe rent to, no landlord telling us what we can and can't do. It wasn't as big or as pretty as the ones on the telenovelas my mother watched, but it was ours. I remember the old apartment my mother, sister, and I lived in. An old run down place. A place where beat up trucks were parked in the parking lot and were filled with construction supplies. Where my childhood friends would play tag and hide and go seek out on the streets. A place where everyone referred to as "the ghetto".
We lived paycheck to paycheck.We lived like scavengers, finding and using anything in our sights. I became aware of this when a glass jar, filled with any coins we found, fell. The jar consisted of coins we found lying on the floor at the supermarket. Coins we received as change. My mother had been sweeping the hardwood floor and being unmindful of the jar behind her, she backed up. I watched it tip over the edge of the wooden table, gravity pulling it down. I held my breath as I heard the sharp sounds of glass on wood. My mother squatted down, picking up each and every shard. Each and every coin, making sure she did not miss any. I never want to be reminded of the fact that we cannot afford to live in luxury as the others at school do. The luxury to go out of state, the luxury to go to Disneyland, and the luxury to live without embarrassment on our living situation.
She stood watching still, a man on bike making his way to work through the bustling streets full of the impatient people of New York. What is there to life? she wonders. If not all, but the majority of people live like clockwork day in and day out. Leaving with, without, or going to their problems. Humans with the knowledge of knowing one day they will pass, almost as if disappearing from the face of the Earth. She continued to look at the man on the bicycle, wondering that if he were to take his last breath would it matter? Possibly, his loved ones will mourn but will his presence be missed by anyone else? Will the lack of his presence greatly affect the Earth and its people? No. He is nothing but a speck on the Earth and same goes for everyone. What is there to life? She wonders. Humans, most likely do not like to be ignored, do not like to be not missed. Do not like to live feeling empty. So we try to make do with our lives by following, believing, dreaming, and doing.  So enthralled within our own lives, almost as if the world revolves around us. Does what we do really impact anything? What is there to life? Her gaze wandered over to a young man with a cane and his face towards the person he speaks to, but not directly in the eyes. His leg a bad limp. So young yet already so troubled. What is there to life? But his blindness and bad limp did not stop him from throwing his head back, a smile adorning his face to the point it reaches his eyes and the young woman accompanying him doing the same. Watching them, intently looking at each other as they walk down the sidewalk with ease. The two very obviously enthralled within their deep conversation. What is there to life? Watching them she then knew what there is to life.


United States


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strangetail Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2013
thanks for the watch!! >v< <33
DrawingDreamLyrics Featured By Owner Dec 12, 2013
Welcome :squee:
strangetail Featured By Owner Sep 7, 2014
and the fave qvq :iconluvluvplz:
DrawingDreamLyrics Featured By Owner Sep 8, 2014
Haha <3 okay
(1 Reply)
sabre-toothed-wolf Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2013
Thanks so much for the fav on "Life" sabre-toothed-wolf.deviantart.… !
DrawingDreamLyrics Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2013
Your welcome :D
Angel-Dust-Ryuuki Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2013  Student General Artist

Welcome to the Teen Titans Project! I am so happy you decided to join us. To better help you navigate your group; here are some links for you:


About Us:…

Chat Room:…

How can I help the project?:

If you have any questions or want to help out, just ask. I'll be happy to help.  =)

Karlee (founder)

Titans together, Titans forever.
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