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About Photography / Hobbyist Emily22/Female/Canada Recent Activity
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Literature
American Dream
We are children of the night. Born into a crumbling era, we seek anything to make us feel alive while the world around us dies. Like vampires we awake, arise, into the streaming sunlight of our own demise. Shaking sleep from the vast plains of our mind’s eye, we realize that we cannot live the dream that was fed to us, the promises that were made, the lies that were spun.
We were born in the pitch black, and all that we know of the world was whispered into our ears and painted before our eyes. And so we grew up with grandiose dreams of wonder, happiness, and security, all seemingly within our grasp. We were swaddled in a comfortable dream, while those who spun it tore down the world around us. We matured, starting to see the sunlight peeking in through the bars of our childhood prison. We yearned and scrambled to age faster, to have our independence delivered to us in a shining gold box that can be used to proclaim “Look”! “Behold my independence from the dark
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Literature
Cliffside
There are times where we all stand at the edge of the cliff, alone, feeling the stinging cold air of the sea burning courage into us as we stare down into the waves that slam against the crags far below. Rocks crumble away from the cliff face, tumbling silently down to explode in spectacular fashion. The shrill cries of gulls pierce the thunderous roar. As the sun rises, it paints the sky in watercolor swaths of pink, orange, and cold pale blue. Relentless action collides with the stillness of the field behind you, where tall grasses sway in the wind and frosty tips glint in the tentative sunlight bathing them. No barrier holds you back from this untamed cacophony; no fence, hedge, or wall could hold you back if it tried. No matter the circumstance, you will always find your way back to the cliff. Onwards to the horizon you stare, imagining yourself taking a single step into the void, falling down to splinter onto the rocky sand below and be swept out into the frigid water. Squinting a
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Shrine to the Dead by EmilyJulianne Shrine to the Dead :iconemilyjulianne:EmilyJulianne 2 0 Ravaged and Forgotten by EmilyJulianne Ravaged and Forgotten :iconemilyjulianne:EmilyJulianne 1 0 Little Houses of the Dead by EmilyJulianne Little Houses of the Dead :iconemilyjulianne:EmilyJulianne 2 0 Casting Shadows by EmilyJulianne Casting Shadows :iconemilyjulianne:EmilyJulianne 0 2 Standing Strong by EmilyJulianne Standing Strong :iconemilyjulianne:EmilyJulianne 2 0 Little Stream by EmilyJulianne Little Stream :iconemilyjulianne:EmilyJulianne 1 0 Soaking Up The Sun by EmilyJulianne Soaking Up The Sun :iconemilyjulianne:EmilyJulianne 0 0 Bugger by EmilyJulianne Bugger :iconemilyjulianne:EmilyJulianne 5 3 A Touch of Spring by EmilyJulianne A Touch of Spring :iconemilyjulianne:EmilyJulianne 0 0 Avocado Leaf by EmilyJulianne Avocado Leaf :iconemilyjulianne:EmilyJulianne 0 0 Rebel Yell by EmilyJulianne Rebel Yell :iconemilyjulianne:EmilyJulianne 1 3 Desolate by EmilyJulianne Desolate :iconemilyjulianne:EmilyJulianne 0 0 Forgotten by EmilyJulianne Forgotten :iconemilyjulianne:EmilyJulianne 0 0 Deceased by EmilyJulianne Deceased :iconemilyjulianne:EmilyJulianne 2 0
enjoy :heart:

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We are children of the night. Born into a crumbling era, we seek anything to make us feel alive while the world around us dies. Like vampires we awake, arise, into the streaming sunlight of our own demise. Shaking sleep from the vast plains of our mind’s eye, we realize that we cannot live the dream that was fed to us, the promises that were made, the lies that were spun.

We were born in the pitch black, and all that we know of the world was whispered into our ears and painted before our eyes. And so we grew up with grandiose dreams of wonder, happiness, and security, all seemingly within our grasp. We were swaddled in a comfortable dream, while those who spun it tore down the world around us. We matured, starting to see the sunlight peeking in through the bars of our childhood prison. We yearned and scrambled to age faster, to have our independence delivered to us in a shining gold box that can be used to proclaim “Look”! “Behold my independence from the dark”! No one truly told us of the burdensome beings within that box that we would carry with us to our graves, and how it would only get heavier with age. We weren’t given a say in the world that we would step into. And now, as adults, we awake to find a cavernous rift between the world we are given and the world we were promised. Many have tried to build bridges to the other side, some choosing to settle halfway. Others will strive their entire lives but reach solid ground alone, having forfeited all they loved and cherished for the True American Dream.
There are times where we all stand at the edge of the cliff, alone, feeling the stinging cold air of the sea burning courage into us as we stare down into the waves that slam against the crags far below. Rocks crumble away from the cliff face, tumbling silently down to explode in spectacular fashion. The shrill cries of gulls pierce the thunderous roar. As the sun rises, it paints the sky in watercolor swaths of pink, orange, and cold pale blue. Relentless action collides with the stillness of the field behind you, where tall grasses sway in the wind and frosty tips glint in the tentative sunlight bathing them. No barrier holds you back from this untamed cacophony; no fence, hedge, or wall could hold you back if it tried. No matter the circumstance, you will always find your way back to the cliff. Onwards to the horizon you stare, imagining yourself taking a single step into the void, falling down to splinter onto the rocky sand below and be swept out into the frigid water. Squinting against the sharp, November wind and looking out to the endless sea, you feel the pull. Relentless as the waves, every day is the same. Pulled to this edge where the line where one small step can change everything, but you’ll never get to see the outcome.


And while that possibility is tempting, the opposite is irresistible. You feel the physical; the goosebumps crawling up every surface on your body. The sting in your nose as gusts of briny air force their way into your sinuses. Eyes tearing up as you face the cold and emptiness ahead of you. The tensing of your hands into fists inside your mittens to keep warm. Under your feet frosty grass and sharp stones crunch. Your jacket rustles as you dig your hands deep into your pockets, your hair being ruffled into a wild mess. Ears tingling with cold and cheeks going numb you inhale a great deep breath, then turn around and run. You run as if the cliff is crumbling down behind you, racing to eat you whole. Invigorated, you feel your heart start beating fast, the air from your lungs billowing out of your mouth and nose in great clouds, trailing behind you. Muscles stretching and tensing as the world becomes slightly blurry, the tears that collected starting to spread and run. You run from the cliff with devotion, a renewed want to live and breathe and see. You rush towards the narrow path ahead of you, to the bottom of the hill where the sandy path twists left, into the small patch of woods dividing this secret wilderness from the paved road leading to civilization. Each day you run home from the cliff, to warmth, safety, and familiarity. But with a certain solemn determination, you run each morning to the edge as well. Every day you feel the sun, you see the waves, you face the pull. Staring down the adversary that once consumed you and nearly brought you to your end. And each morning you choose to turn home, an exercise in gratitude, and part of the small selfish struggle to survive in this world.
It's been two years. Two fucking years. I'm writing this 100% for myself but goddamn it I can't believe it's been two years since I wrote a journal entry.

In the latest news:
I decided to do NaNoWriMo - my friend weedled me into it. I'm terrified.
I'm going to try posting the free writing I do, but if I start a story I doubt I'm going to let it see the light of day. For now it's just bits of word vomit that happen at work. 
Considering how shot my laptop is there's no possibility of photos because Photoshop before reformatting my hard drive (or replacing the laptop) is probably a bad idea. If anyone wants to keep up (who am I kidding, ain't nobody reads this) I'm on Instagram as Emily.Julianne

Okay, here we go. 
  • Listening to: Static
  • Reading: A Song of Ice and Fire
  • Drinking: Diet Coke
It's been two years. Two fucking years. I'm writing this 100% for myself but goddamn it I can't believe it's been two years since I wrote a journal entry.

In the latest news:
I decided to do NaNoWriMo - my friend weedled me into it. I'm terrified.
I'm going to try posting the free writing I do, but if I start a story I doubt I'm going to let it see the light of day. For now it's just bits of word vomit that happen at work. 
Considering how shot my laptop is there's no possibility of photos because Photoshop before reformatting my hard drive (or replacing the laptop) is probably a bad idea. If anyone wants to keep up (who am I kidding, ain't nobody reads this) I'm on Instagram as Emily.Julianne

Okay, here we go. 
  • Listening to: Static
  • Reading: A Song of Ice and Fire
  • Drinking: Diet Coke

deviantID

EmilyJulianne
Emily
Artist | Hobbyist | Photography
Canada
I am simple, and deeply complicated. I wander but am not lost.

Current Residence: Montreal.
Operating System: Windows 7
Camera: Canon SX120IS
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-because we share life- by fangedfem -because we share life- :iconfangedfem:fangedfem 83,579 15,812

Comments


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:iconspiritofdarkness:
Spiritofdarkness Featured By Owner Aug 23, 2015
:iconllamajumpplz: thanks for the llama :)
Reply
:iconbluecaroline:
BlueCaroline Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Merci beaucoup for the watch, Emily !

Lotus
Reply
:iconemilyjulianne:
EmilyJulianne Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2015  Hobbyist Photographer
De rien :)
Reply
:icondamaimikaz:
DamaiMikaz Featured By Owner Mar 25, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for adding Depression to your collections. I'm happy that you like the piece :la:
Reply
:iconemilyjulianne:
EmilyJulianne Featured By Owner Mar 26, 2015  Hobbyist Photographer
You`re welcome! Its saved to my folder of desktop backgrounds, I want to see it over and over :)
Reply
:iconwytherwing:
wytherwing Featured By Owner Dec 13, 2014
:) thank you for the +watch :rose:
Reply
:iconemilyjulianne:
EmilyJulianne Featured By Owner Dec 17, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
No problem! I was hoping you were still active!
Reply
:iconnikonf3user:
nikonf3user Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Hi emily i have just spent a very plesent Half hour viewing your gallery 'wow' you certainly have a feel for macro work the shot of the lady slipper orchids is particularly impressive. i am some what curious did you start on deviant art when you were 13 or are you now 23 i ask because you state your are 19 and hve been on DA for six years
Reply
:iconemilyjulianne:
EmilyJulianne Featured By Owner Oct 21, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
I'm glad you enjoyed my gallery! I signed up literally the day I turned 13, and have been on and off the site for six years since. For a while I posted nothing at all because I simply had no inspiration, and recently came back and overhauled/cleaned up my gallery to start posting again. 
Reply
:iconcelesteial:
celesteial Featured By Owner Sep 13, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you for the watch!! <3 
Reply
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