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Anonymous033 PM
Joined Nov '10

Hi! The name is Sophie. The age is 23.

Here are my links.

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Twitter: anonymous033

My display picture was made by the ever-enchanting Kiera (TapesAndRecords), whom I love dearly and with all my heart.


In the interests of keeping a clean and neat profile, I have deleted the following NCIS stories: Circumstances, Family, First, Flirt, For One Night, Friction, Kill, Lost, Penance, Rules, the Screams Unheard, Shell, Stay, and Tribulation. Anyone who wishes for a copy of these stories may, of course, ask them from me--please be warned, though, that stories sent through the PM feature may lose their formatting.


Life, According to Me


Success is the triumph in one's heart. Success is the trophy on one's shelf; the scroll in one's hand. Success is beating one's demons. Success is being the best you can be, without caring who the others are. Success is when you realize that you have made it, not because you have become someone you admire but because you have become you.


Beauty is the wind blowing through the trees and the purple flower in a field of green. Beauty is the goodness in a woman's heart; the honour in a man's. Beauty is the smile upon a child's lips. Beauty is the sun through the clouds and the smell of rain.


Peace is the absence of war. Peace is the gift from one friend to another; the comfort a husband offers his wife. Peace is the stillness of nature. Peace is a good book on a Saturday night, or even a Saturday morning. Peace is the dove. Peace is children's laughter floating in from the fields. Peace is the absolute happiness that makes you smile.


Happiness is the cup of morning tea. Happiness is the piece of toast before you and the lick of a puppy's tongue upon your hand. Happiness is your child running in to hug you; your husband walking in to kiss you. It is the sunrays through your window; the shadows of the trees outside on your kitchen floor. Happiness is a walk on the beach and the twinkling stars on a clear summer night. Happiness is peace and beauty.


Wisdom is the ancient earth. Wisdom is the way the planets revolve. It is the way the sun burns. It is the toothless old man in the corner and the wise old woman on the mountain. It is the cheerful greeting of your friend; the loyal loving of your family. It is my name. Wisdom is you and I who know that life does not last forever. Wisdom is he and she who live life to the fullest because they know that it does not last forever.


Love is the rose in the child's hand. It is the ache in the woman's heart and the tears in the man's. It is going to the ends of the earth for someone and realizing that one need simply look up to see that same someone. Love is passionate; love is gentle. Love is all-encompassing. Love is healing. Love is everywhere.


Life is like that. Life is wonderful and painful. Life has razor-sharp teeth and a silken edge. Life is humorous, bubbly, angry, sad, and playful. Life is the children chasing each other in the park, the lovers sitting together on the bench, and the dog lying by itself under the tree. Life is the sun rising each day and setting each evening. Life is the moon shining brightly each night.


Some poems on love and on writing, by the wonderful Laura (sesame.seed.bagels)!


When I told my best friend
About the boy I liked
She smiled sadly
And told me to hang in there
A wise thought,
So I hung in there.
But he was fluent in French
With his long dark hair
And golden eyes
Hanging proved a hard task.
Today, I put on my favorite jeans
My worn black t-shirt
And my white Converse shoes
I braided my hair
And felt the best I'd felt
In a very long time.
And my best friend grimaced
In a whisper between classes
And she told me that my friend
Miranda had a crush on him as well.
Just a quick whisper
And my day collapsed on my braided head.
I went to class like I always do
And watched his dark head
In front of me
So close,
So far apart.
He leaned back and stretched
And looked at me
And smiled his crooked smile
But all I could think
Was Miranda and her crush
And hanging in there
But instead of me hanging
I think it's hanging me.


I lock the door
And try to block out
The voices downstairs.
I shut the windows
And try to block out
The evening sunset.
I close my mind
To the noisy thoughts
Chattering in my head.
Finally, I can write.
I look around
Searching for inspiration.
I listen
For some sound of encouragement.
I think
But suddenly there is nothing.
I stare at the blinking cursor
And write nothing.
Oh, well.
At least I am free of

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