http://slow.writerscafe.org/Unoriginality The original writings of author Unoriginaly Original en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775288263 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 There are very few moments that I have him to myself when it's quiet enough for me to indulge myself in his presence. I'll ask him what he's thinking, listen to his hopes and dreams, all memories good and bad, his plans for his life. He can be very detailed, telling me everything and not leaving out.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Unoriginality/1893750/ Growing up I was sexually abused by my aunt's "husband" (they're illegal immigrants so they can't get married in America). I do not remember much but those images of his penis and his disgusting smirk is engraved in my head. My mother and people before her when analyzing me theorize that I was mute .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Unoriginality/1892778/ "You were my sweet child," she said to me, "I don't know what happened to you."I just stood there beside her bed and shrugged it off, joking with her. "I don't know what happened either." I replied. But I DO know. I know what and who changed me, I remember every little troubling detail, every m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Unoriginality/1888058/ This overall isn't for anyone but myself, though you are free to read. This is to be a reminder of who I am, where I come from, my beliefs and what makes me ME. I don't want to forget anything. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Unoriginality/1888057/ Rows and rows of the same peopleWith the same hairWith the same styleEveryone indifferentWalks the same wayI'm uncomfortableWhere do I fit in? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Unoriginality/1887075/ Tell me what's your name?Will we be friends or will we never talk again?I don't know what to say;I'm trying to act normal but mentally I'm losing all control.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Unoriginality/1887061/ Just expressing what it's like to love a military man http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Unoriginality/1887025/ My words are splattered paint on the wall.Pure, raw emotion thrown at a hard and unaesthetic canvas. For no heavens or any angels above blessed my hands,No, I am no poetic saint.But I am human. And my words are my colours. So write I shall.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Unoriginality/1886719/ I could have sworn I saw the universe in her eyes. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Unoriginality/1886697/ Just a pointless journal/vent http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Unoriginality/1886678/