Novels I'll never write, poetry that isn't poetic.

I'm female, 25 years old. This is a collection of short stories, poems, or excerpts written by myself. Everything is orginal, most is emotional, some are true, some are loosely based, unless it's a repost (obviously).

[altruisticblasphemy]

hate me today

I’m suffocating looking for a distraction to this madness of monotony. 

[rhapsodic-evanescence]

I’m going to tell you now you now that you will meet this girl, and you’re going to want to love her with all your heart. Because she is gorgeous and smart and she can make anyone smile. But sometimes, even though you want to love her with all your heart, it won’t be easy. There will be days when she’s too sad for you to cheer her up. There will be nights when she shuts you out because she doesn’t want to say things she’ll regret. There will be weeks when you worry you can’t make her happy. But love, she’s going to be worth it and I want you to know that now. And I want her to know that she is worth it.

[altruisticblasphemy]

A Soul Taken

..and just like that, the fragile facade she had worked so hard to maintain crumbled into a thousand tiny, terrifyingly painful pieces. Her heart seized, and feeling like a pipe was about to burst inside of her, she slowly lost all strength in her muscles and fell to the floor. 

“How could you do this?” she whispered as a single tear fell down her cheek and onto the hardwood floor, the droplet flickering a reflection of the fireplace roaring obliviously unaware that the extent of the universe had suddenly stopped to exist in that moment. 

He smiled, a cruel disconnect beneath his cold brown eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, you made it entirely to easy for me to do so. Who is really to blame here?”

[poems-and-words]

[poems-and-words]

Book of the day: No Matter The Wreckage by Sarah Kay

Get the FREE Kindle Reading App

[altruisticblasphemy]

And every day I survive without you is another piece of myself I put back together.

J.K.

[altruisticblasphemy]

I have always been in LOVE with Ellen Hopkins writing style.

[poems-and-words]

[poems-and-words]

Book of the day: No Matter The Wreckage by Sarah Kay

Get the FREE Kindle Reading App

[altruisticblasphemy]

I'm not really sure why we hold onto things that used to make us happy, but now they only tear us apart.

J.K.

[wnq-writers]

I hate being a writer. I hate it I hate it I hate it. But can I even call myself one? That’s like calling yourself a model when you don’t even get paid for it. I hate it because it’s a silent talent. A little secret you keep hidden from the world. Just like me, little secret. I hate it even more because for me, it requires pain to even produce it. I have to suffer a little to write something I enjoy for two seconds and then for it to spend eternity gathering dust on an empty blog. I could write a eulogy, a love poem, a letter of apology that wins you back, I could get you an A+ on any damn paper you have to write. But what does any of this get me? It makes me hang on your every word. It makes me believe that everything everyone says is true, because words are precious to people who write… but they mean nothing to people who don’t.

seeyouinhellfuckboy (via wnq-writers)

[wnq-writers]

I’m thinking of a moment in time, that feels so long ago. I was happy, back then. That’s all I remember. Not why, not when or where. Just that I was. Happy. And now, I’m not. I wish I were, I really do. But… I’m not. I’ve surrendered. I hate that word. Surrendered. It’s a pathetic feeling, but I’m told it gets better. That there will be a reason to smile again, laugh again. That there will be a way to be happy. That all I have to do, is truly want it.

thebook-cook (via wnq-writers)

[altruisticblasphemy]

What Could’ve Been

“Will you come see me soon, my dear?” he wrote affectionately, as if he had any grounds for using such pet names. “I’ve a desperate need to see you before my next deployment begins. I’m not sure how I am to survive the months to come without the picture of your beautiful face with me at the back of my mind. Please darling, I beg of you.”

Jessa was not quite sure the exact moment her feelings for him transitioned from a tender friendship to that of something more, all she could say is that when the moment finally arrived, it felt as if she was feeling nothing and then everything at once. Almost as if the entire ocean was attempting to explode from a very particular cavity of her chest she once knew to have housed her heart.

“You know I can’t, Robert.” she replied, with a small ache in her heart. “You know that wouldn’t be appropriate of us, of me,” she penned, slowly as if carefully elongating each letter, “and I’m not so certain I’m the proper picture that should be floating around that head of yours, especially in wartime. Please don’t tell me there aren’t any respectable suitors back home that wouldn't send you away with a lock of hair in a heartbeat. Whisper sweet nothings in your hair.” She wasn’t very certain how her own words could break her heart, but it shattered with every word she wrote.

Her eyes closed as her mind wandered to that day, where everything she experienced didn’t have to be categorized into concrete feelings. Where her fondness for her dear friend could remain, just that, a fondness. Sadly we all start to wonder at the true meaning behind our feelings, she thought, and that is when we bury our selves.

“Robert, you need to stop this foolishness you cling to. I am a married woman, and I beg you to focus your attentions on a woman better suited for than I,” she had whispered into his ear one night as they lay together in the grass behind the faded barn. She had brushed away his advancement reluctantly, but her cheeks burned with a  guilty red.

“Don’t you think I’ve tried to do just that? You think I enjoy this torment I’ve inflicted on myself, to love another man’s wife? I’m not sure you know how many nights I’ve lay awake trying to forget those eyes, the way they crinkle when you laugh or how you scrunch up your nose when you think nobody is watching you. Perhaps it is the way the moonlight falls on your hair and shines back at me, or the way your lips turn up in that little smirk you make when you’re being difficult and you know it. Perhaps that is the image I must try and forget.”

She smiled softly and turned to him. “I find it unfortunate that you’ve found those qualities so appealing. I’m afraid you will just have to wait for the next girl who displays those attributes to come stomping along, as I did. Surely it’s not hard to find.” She laughed, stroking his cheek gently, “Promise me you’ll wait for her then, promise me you’ll commit to being happy.”

Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the stars twinkling overhead, a solemn look on his face. His breath seemed to miss a beat before he turned back to her and whispered “I promise, Jessa. As long as there is a star in the sky to admire, I will do just that. For you, a thousand times over, I will wait for her.” and she mourned, because she knew these would be the last few moments she would ever spend in his arms. The field seemed to be closing in around her, the air suffocating, as a single tear slid down her cheek; the only one she knew she could shed for the man who wasn’t hers to love.

-J.K.

[altruisticblasphemy]

Glaciers

“Those eyes, have you ever seen such sad eyes before? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bluer shade of sorrow. Her kiss could melt glaciers on a man’s heart, but she can’t even keep her own from freezing over.”

-J.K.

[altruisticblasphemy]

Floating

I had a dream one night that I was floating on the wisp of a dandelion seed. Everything I knew was so far below me that it felt like I was erupting out of another time; the vacuum of everything I had ever felt cascading around me in an instant, floating by my side. In that moment I think I discovered what it was like to truly breathe for the first time. 

Ever since that night I’ve been desperately trying to find a way to be weightless again.

-J.K.

[dafan7711]

Don’t learn to write well. Learn to write like you. The craft of storytelling is not about who can do it best; it’s about connecting people in a world filled with suffering and loneliness. The best writer you can possibly be is one where you are completely true to yourself, because people don’t connect to “good” writing–they connect to a story that validates them. Learn to write the truth and success will follow.

@bettydays in this post of encouragement to an anon

Thank you to @wrex-writes for leading me there.

(via dafan7711)

[wnq-writers]

I don’t cry much anymore; I just hold my breath and try and suffocate the feelings before they can suffocate me.

Kaelin Carmel. A  (via wnq-writers)

[voicelessconfessions-deactivate]

My liver will have to handle what my heart couldn’t.

A. J. Ibrahim (via voicelessconfessions)

[altruisticblasphemy]

The sun shone through the clouds like starbursts, fragmenting down to earth like spokes on a bicycle wheel. 

The memory of flying down the neighborhood hill at full speed flickered in the back of her mind. The thrill it used to give her as a child…it almost felt like she was an eagle. She could soar anywhere, looking down at all the little houses and trees, as if she had left her body.

The sweet smell of lavender and grass inflamed her nostrils with the hopeful smell of the coming spring. She realized it would never quite be that easy to be free again, but it didn’t seem that long ago. She could still taste it, the memories of before were all she had to keep her grounded…before all the confusion started and the disappearances. Before the executions and the questionings. Before her whole life was turned upside down, leaving her to grasp for the pieces before there was nothing left to put back together.

She lay in the grass and stared at the sky as a gust of wind kissed her face, the crisp air felt like a lie. It felt just the same as before. Not even they could ruin the wind for her. At least, not yet. 

She was grateful that their hate hadn’t poisoned all that was beautiful, maybe she still had time. Time to do what, though? What could she do? She wasn’t experienced in anything really, she was just barely getting a handle on how to live on her own before everything burned to ashes at her feet. How could she honestly think there was something she could have done to prevent it, or even, fight it.

 The clouds finally started to let loose to a slow drizzle. She lay still for a moment longer, relishing the pitter patter on her cheeks, before reluctantly pulling herself up. She wasn’t really ready to leave her cherished hillside, it was always a constant safe spot in her life, but the thought of making the long hike down the hill soaked to the bone eventually got her moving.

Her hair was already dampening as the rain began to pick up. A short crack of lightning followed by a low rumble made her smile to herself, at least mother nature still had an opinion. She shifted her weight between her feet as she methodically made her way down the rocky trail. 

Most of the footpaths had been washed away over the years, all that was left were large boulders and water carved veins. Apparently the world had forgotten to take pleasure in the unsettled beauties of their surrounding landscape; too busy, too many important issues at home, too blind. It truly was a shame, she thought to herself, as she slowly made her way to the destruction of everything she’d ever known.

-J.K.