White Clouds
Who would have known that the clouds have eyes?


Who would have known that the clouds have eyes?



I twist and turn, constantly checking the clock, 1 AM it reads. The bun in my hair makes it so I can only rest my head to the left and if I take it out it'll mess with my slight autism and my extreme ADHD with it strewn about the place, scared it'll wrap around my neck. My hands are a nuisance when trying to adjust to my body comfortably. 1:07 now, the glow of my screen reminds me of the English assignment I haven't finished. The urge to be productive and possibly even clean up hit me fast, but then out of the darkness of my mind, I remember that if I don't sleep I'll be a nuisance to my family as my arms still are to me.


I sit in my Chemistry class after a test. The teacher in here before didn't turn the faucet off all the way. The desks are squeaking with every movement. Some students are still taking the test and they mutter to themselves, and to others. The kids that sit at the lab tables laugh at their computer, people joining them and whispering to themselves. Pencils scratch, not usually something I mind, but it's the occational squeeks I can't stand with it. Kids in the back of the class, one of which I have another class with, talks about me as though I am on the other side of the school. The cars that tourment the kids outside pass by the window back and forth over and over again, reving. The old and broken clock that is on the wall right above the door that is an hour and 47 minutes behind ticks loudly. Girls talking or typing while emphasizing their long acrylic nails.Skin rubbing against skin.


I didn't mean to watch her walk by the other day, she just happened to be right were I was looking, and it just happened to be that I was looking at the star crocheted on her chest. But I never intended to watch her. Her short dark brown hair with streaks of pink through her whole head, up in tiny pigtails tied together with orange flower ties just happened to pass by my line of sight. Her cute dance when she's excited or happy consisting of jumping, swaying side to side with each leap, just happened to catch my perifferal vision and made me look in her way.


I was brought up by the idea that death was a sweet thing, the universe's way of saying you’ve done enough, and it was time to go back to the great beyond. But I thought that it would take me by itself. I thought.



For some context; My dead name is Midori. I came out as Non-Binary in 9th grade and later realized I was gender-fluid a couple of months or so later. I now go by Auogx (aug). These are things I wish I could go back to tell myself so I wouldn't be the depressed, traumatized, introverted, and masked person I am today. If I had known these things before, I would still be the happy little girl who loved talking to people and being friends with everyone I met. Since I can't do that now, I'll write about it.



Dead man running from life.



I've been killing for about 12 years now, no one has yet caught me in the time I've done this. Which is lucky for me. The blood of at least 50 lives has seeped into the skin of my palm, possibly more, and I can't stop.



Wild Fires, can be caused naturally or by humans, most likely it's from humans. Gender reveals, camping trips, drunk people with no supervision, a "witch" trying to get her boyfriend to fall in love with her again but ends in misery, forgetting to put out a fire for storytelling, or forgetting you are surrounded by dry trees and shrubbery when you decide to get rid of some kind of animal infestation with a fucking flamethrower. Or just people are so stupid.


War was rough, I had been gone from my wife and children for two years now. With the help of a buddy, I was able to keep my composure and get home alive, he left before me due to losing his left leg, but I was sure I would see him again.I didn't call my wife beforehand, I wanted my return to be a surprise for her and my children. The trip was long, and while it was sad that no one was there to pick me up, it made me hopeful that it would be better when I saw them once again. When I opened the door, a man's voice rang through the home, a man's voice that I recognised. I walked deeper into the home to find my best bud sitting on the opposite end of the couch to my wife, all three of my children clinging to his arms. When he saw me, his face lit up, and he sprung off the couch, each of my children running toward me. I was confused at first, but then a whisper in my ear got me to understand."She tried to cheat on you," his voice was soft and sincere. Who would have guessed my wife was a whore. That night he and I packed up our stuff and took the kids on a road trip, luckily we won ownership of my kids, who knew losing a leg led to marriage?



I'm the average broke college student living with a family member, not my parents, I live with my 89-year-old grandma. I love her dearly and will never say no whenever she needs anything.I love her to bits, as you can see, but while I live here, let me tell you about the stuff in her attic that I always feel is, I don't know, alive or something. I know it's crazy, but these little things, make me wish I didn't love her as much as I do.



I grew up with bumps and bruises, scars and scabs, given to me by friends, family, teachers, and everyone that said they can help. I thought they were helping, just like everyone else was. These are some entries from those times, I'll be adding my own notes after each passage to go into depth about what was happening during those times. A current friend of mine told me to see how I've grown, and what I've learned from those past mistakes. I hope you enjoy it, I guess.



His love rushes through my veins as I kill the helpless annoying flies getting in my face on my way to his love. They laugh at me. As I try to reach out and hold him, a fly buzzes by my ear. They try to slow me down, they will die trying, I will get my love back. Bloodless or otherwise, they will be out of my way to get to my lover boy.They scream as my knife pierces through their chests towards their hearts. I laugh back at them. Their blood floods the floor as the sound of keys jingles in the door. I stand at the doorway to greet my lover boy.
