Angie

Primary blog of: UnchartedTrash & joshlymanssmile // Writer // IG: https://www.instagram.com/134selfielol134/ // ♎️

[anne-g-writes]

Trust me, Becca, you're playing defense on the side of a monster. For all I care, you can stay with him. But just know: even dumb bitches like you will realize the horridness of Sean. If not today, then next year, or in ten years, or when you're deep in your marriage with kids and it's too late to get out.

Brooke, Love and Ambition

Read now on Wattpad!

https://www.wattpad.com/story/297931173-love-and-ambition

[anne-g-writes]

I Forget

I forget who I am. My desires. My background. My faith. 

I forget that life leads me somewhere. Where? I keep questioning. Who knows the answer to that. 

I forget that someone cares for the tears that fall on my pillow each night. Dampening it. That my soft cries are heard by someone—not in the other room, but by someone I love. He who shares half my life and half my soul; half my pain and half my joy. He whose touch warms my cold soul and steady my trembles. 

As I looked down the casket, as I stood up to speak my eulogy, I stopped. The room swirled; the floor soft beneath my feet, as if they weren’t there. The eyes of his family and friends, puffy just as mine, all staring is wonderment of what words I string together about him—about us. 

I forget that he’s gone. I forget to write in past tense. I forget that it’s “he was”. So, where do I go from here? After a life planned with him, after a long journey together, where does my destination stop? 

The rain patters on the window pane as I sit alone in the kitchen for breakfast. I stare at the available seat across from me, his grey presence haunting me with a smile. Then a flash of lightning… He’s gone. The thunder, sending me to jump in my seat.

I sip my coffee, smelling the coffee grounds, bringing back the memories that dance in my head. As I’m wearing his shirt, I smell his scent, but not feel his warmth. His arms, wrapped around me and on my hair. His chin lands perfectly on the top of my head. 

How can two lost souls that have finally found each other, lose one another in some terrible twist of fate?

I forget…

No.

I refuse to forget who he is—was—to me.

**Prologue to a new book**

[anne-g-writes]

"You're day dreaming again," Jason cuts me off.

I am suddenly aware of us laying together; my cheek resting on his chest, raising and falling with his breathing.

"I'm sorry, it's just," I sit up, looking down at him. "Something good is finally happening in my life!"

He sits up with me, a smirk on his face as he cups my cheek. "I feel the same."

[anne-g-writes]

New chapter posted! Right when you thought that things are settling down, it picks back up again as we begin to see the end.

Read Love and Ambition on Wattpad!

[anne-g-writes]

Read Love and Ambition on Wattpad!

[anne-g-writes]

Read Love and Ambition on Wattpad!

[anne-g-writes]

Read Love and Ambition on Wattpad!

[anne-g-writes]

Read Love and Ambition on Wattpad!

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[anne-g-writes]

New chapters every Wednesday and Saturday! Read Love and Ambition now on Wattpad!

[anne-g-writes]

Currently 21 chapters out! Read the first chapter now on Wattpad! https://www.wattpad.com/story/297931173-love-and-ambition

[anne-g-writes]

An excerpt from a book I’ll never write

“I’m leaving,” I told him with my suitcase in hand. He takes off his headset, resting them on his shoulders, then proceeds to pause his game.

“What? Why?” He twists in his chair to face me, leaning back. Even through the darkness of the room, the light that comes from his monitor shines on his eyes. They start to look glassy.

I grip tighter on the handle of my suitcase. It hurts me more to see him like this, but should I stay where there are many reasons. Too many, in fact, than my fingers can count. It’s silly of me to think he’d actually pay attention to me throughout my stay at his place.

Is it fair for me to leave him without knowing the reasons why? Then again, is it fair for me to stay when I keep getting hurt over and over again even if those weren’t his intentions. 

“No, I’ll not do that anymore since you didn’t like it last time,” he made an empty promise of not playing games so frequently when I visit. Always empty promises.

Even the tiny little things that he say make my heart break a little. Like he’s holding it in his hand and crushing it as tight as possible. I can’t even talk to him without feeling like my emotions are my fault; he turns it around and make himself the victim, when I am the one who is hurting. 

I was supposed to stay for a month, but rebooked it shorter because, as a matter of fact, I don’t think he truly loves me. He might love the idea of me; maybe my company. But certainly not with me. 

He hasn’t touched me in weeks. So I’ve distanced myself to see how he would react.

Nothing.

His mind and heart only to his games.

So, I’m done.

Over and over again, I question myself, “Do I want to stay? Do I love him enough to stay?” I always thought to myself that when I get back from this trip that I would end it with him, somehow. Not on the day that I leave, but after. I never thought of how long after, but definitely after. I always pictured how it would go:

I am staying in my dorm room. The room is dark except for the light that is shining in from the street lamp. I am sitting up in my bed, with my phone in hand, ready to call him. 

“I don’t want to be with you anymore,” I tell him. I can tell that a lump would be in my throat, choking the tears in. I’m not crying during the call. I knew that I wouldn’t do it. I would cry after.

That’s when the scenario ends. 

But here I am, standing here in the hallway; him looking at me with eyes filled with questions. Eyebrows pushed together in question. 

It is quiet except for the humming of his computer. 

The only sound that I make is me swallowing my spit before speaking. “I’m just tired of being hurt all the time,”

He scoffs, “Hurt? Come on, you’re overreacting,”

I exhale loudly through my nose. “I don’t want to stay in a relationship where games come before us,” I swallow the lump that is starting to rise in my throat. 

He raises from his seat, but I start leaving for the front door as a taxi waits for me outside. 

“No, wait! Don’t go! Please!” He pulls me back into his arms; enveloping me into his chest. I can feel his tear drop onto the top of my forehead. I take a whiff of his scent one last time before pushing him away. 

“You had me, but you let me slip away too easily,” as I take one step back, his grip on my arms tighten.

“I won’t let you. I’m sorry. Just…” He sniffles. “Let us talk through this,” 

I don’t feel loved, cared for, or anything. One year of fully loving him for who he is and standing by all his flaws only to be treated like nothing.

[anne-g-writes]

Now the primary blog to @joshlymanssmile

[anne-g-writes]

Primary blog to @unchartedtrash