k @mistyyyroses - Tumblr Blog

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yeah i'm depressed but i least my little stories that make me happy sometimes win contests and make me even happier

#aspiring writer #aspiring author #creative writing #writing

the deer

i’m dreaming again

but this time it’s different

there’s a deer: young, small, and flighty.

it stands amidst a group of deer, blending in

yet

it stands out just a little bit.

as they travel, it begins to lag behind

it looks around, confused, desperate to find someone to help

no one is stopping

the other deer keep moving forward,

dancing around each other as they move on to greener fields.

the deer has fallen behind now

it tries to keep up with its friends,

but it stumbles

it falls

it tries to get up

it stumbles and falls again

this time it doesn’t get up

it lays there, defeated, shaking and hiding its face

now there is a mirror in front of the deer

it looks up

and in the mirror it sees a much bigger version of itself

it has antlers and stands tall, fearless, and untouched.

the deer wonders who that is that it’s looking at

but before it can ponder any longer it disappears.

its friends are back, and they’re older,

more mature,

still weaving around each other in an intricate dance woven by their similarities

why is the deer still small?

why has it not grown?

the other deer try to convince it to get up, to play with them,

but it doesn’t

it can’t

no matter how hard it tries it can’t keep up

the other deer will eventually give up

and will leave the one behind.

the mirror has reappeared and the deer looks in it again

the elder version of itself that it had seen is gone

it is no longer a deer at all

it’s a person

a person who looks as confused, lost, and isolated as the deer

it’s me

i’m dreaming again

but this time it’s the same

the deer is back and i know its fate

i know its fate because i share it

#aspiring author #aspiring writer #creative writing #english composition #writing #mindless thoughts #poetry #literature

The matcha leaves a slight bitter taste on my tongue, but it’s not unpleasant. In one direction, the sun is so bright it’s blinding. In the other, it softly illuminates the furniture on the patio. I came here to study, but ultimately ended up people-watching. There are two men sitting at the table in front of mine having a conversation. One of them has a foreign accent, probably European. He’s talking about getting his citizenship soon. Behind them, two little sparrows hop along the ground and peck at it, probably scavenging someone’s tragically dropped pastry.

Another sip of matcha. More bitterness. I can hear a group of high school? college? kids having a conversation. They speak in excited tones, the kind of tones you only speak in when you’re with your closest friends. It must have rained recently. Patches of the ground are wet, some water pooling in the uneven dips of the asphalt. The table I sat at outside is slightly wet and I had to carefully place my items on the table and bench. The smell of diesel wafts by as big, loud trucks rumble by. I sneak a look at the stickers I just bought from the coffee shop’s store. A progressive pride flag and a rainbow sticker with the words “you belong here”. Why did I get them? I want people to know I’m a safe person. I want to be that safe space for people like me. Will it make me a target? Would someone come after me simply for outwardly supporting my identity? I don’t know why this concerns me so much. “You belong here.” A message I strive to ensure others know because this world is cruel. Do I belong here? I have a bad habit of being painfully hypocritical. Objectively, if I observe from a third-person point of view, I do belong here. I have just as much a right as anyone else to exist and belong here. I’m someone’s daughter, someone’s friend, someone’s family member. But that feels like someone else. When it’s just me, I’m not sure I belong. Too much happens in my head to be considered normal, I think. I don’t think it’s normal to be thinking in as many circles as I do. Maybe my problem is that I detach myself too much. No, I know that’s my problem. No matter how many people tell me I’m worth it and belong, it never clicks. It feels like they’re talking to someone else. Who? I hear it, but I don’t. Even as I write, I don’t feel fully present. I’m just kind of observing and letting whatever I think fits appear on the screen.

The sun’s moved. I had taken my jacket off because of its heat but now I’m starting to feel the chill of the day. It’s 51 degrees but it’s near the end of January. I find myself paying attention more to who I find myself looking at. If I see a man my age, I ask myself if I find him attractive. Objectively? Or could I see myself in a relationship with one? How can I know? It’s too much to try to think of. I think I’ll just stop thinking. That sounds like a good solution.

The birds are back. There’s six of them now, all hopping around searching for scraps. I kind of wish I could have one as a pet, which is a stupid thought because how could you maintain and upkeep a damn sparrow? They’re tiny and probably hate being held. It feels like I’ve spent my time here. People have entered and exited, and they close in two hours. Not that two hours is close, but I really hate to be that person cutting it close. I always hated it when I worked in food. Am I too considerate? I always think about how something will affect others or how they are feeling. Is that bad? It’s not bad to be considerate, right? I never want to make someone feel bad, especially if they’re my friends. It’s like one of my worst fears. Sometimes I have dreams about not liking someone’s birthday present to me and dismissing it and them being sad over it. It literally almost brings me to tears. Why does it bring me to tears thinking about how someone feels after I don’t like something they gave me? I think I would cry if I saw someone visibly sad over something I did, genuinely. Not in a joking way as friends do. I don’t know where this is going, but I think I should pack up. Maybe get those stickers on my car. I hope someone sees it and knows they belong.

#creative writing #aspiring writer #aspiring author #english composition #writing #blurbs #mindless thoughts #simply existing #i'm tired #not sure

don't pity me.

i know i'm struggling, it is a fact i am highly aware of.

i know it's a fact you are highly aware of.

i know i have come to you in my lowest moments,

i know i have cried to you about my troubles

and at first, it helped.

it helped that you asked questions i hadn't thought of before,

it helped that you encouraged me to find small things.

but i guess i'm just too much of a pessimist for you

because now it doesn't feel helpful.

it feels like you're talking to a frightened, cornered deer,

trying not to scare it but help it,

but instead of trying to help it, you're trying to fix it.

you're trying to fix me.

and my god, does that feel belittling.

i am so highly aware that there are many things about me to be fixed,

i know, fuck i know.

but each time i talk you i tell you less and less

about how bad i'm really doing.

because i don't need your pity.

i don't need your advice, i don't need your thoughts,

i need you to just be with me.

you don't always have to play fixer.

some people just want someone to sit by them through the pain.

and i can't do that unless you

stop

trying

to fix me.

#aspiring writer #vent post #vent poetry #feelings

realizing it’s me it’s always been me. sure some people in the past had some input but it’s always. me. i am the common denominator. /neg

Fear

To feel the fear of it all, sinking its claws into your arms and teeth into your neck, draining you of any sort of valor you felt. The strength from your muscles is sapped, siphoned, as the fear strikes you speechless. Not of fear simply, but it has truly taken your voice, a clawed hand tearing your voice from your throat, stealing it away to store with countless others it stole. Fear cares not of your circumstance, it only sees you as an opportunity to take, and take it does.

#aspiring author #aspiring writer #creative writing #english composition #writing #literature

did you know that i tell the moon about us?

i tell her about every moment we spend together.

she knows about the first time our fingers interlocked

like they were made for each other.

she knows about the first time our lips met

and embraced as if they had been waiting their whole lives.

she knows about the first time i fell asleep in your arms,

your arms a fortress against the chaos of my mind.

she knows about the day you took me out to eat,

and that it was so overwhelming for me that we went home and had takeout instead.

she knows you didn’t mind, that you didn’t make me feel bad for being overstimulated.

she knows your love goes beyond words for me, and i often think that she knows more than

even i do about how you care for me

did you know your love tells me about you?

they tell me about every small thing that happens between you both.

they tell me about the days you stay in and lay together in bed,

listening to the rain outside and your heartbeats in sync.

they tell me about the days you wiped their tears from their face

as they broke down about the constant war inside their mind.

they tell me about the times you hold them close

when they feel as if everything and everyone is leaving them.

i know they don’t tell me everything.

i know they hide the times you have your arguments,

i know they tuck away the moments of irritation.

but i also know that the love and care they feel for you

is unable to be put into words.

it goes unspoken that they will never leave you

no matter the adversities in your lives.

their heart nearly aches with the love they hold for you,

and yours for them.

many people tell me about their loves,

but none have ever held as true a love

as have you with yours.

#aspiring author #aspiring writer #creative writing #english composition #writing #literature #poetry #the moon #moon

when i look at you,

i see the cosmic glimmer in your eyes,

the shine that tells me

you have been created with a piece

of every single star that glimmers across the vast expanse of space.

every galaxy with its ever changing colors and stars resides within your soul;

you are as much a part of them as they are of you.

there is an unheard ethereal ringing about you,

an unspoken yet omnipresent sound of heavenly bells that sound when you speak.

each step you take sends ripples through the universe,

an ever present reminder that you are one with it.

you are the moon, the sun, and all the stars between and beyond.

———

i love writing about people like this, maybe because i wish to someday have someone i could look at like this. maybe because i wish for someone to look at me like this.

-K

#aspiring author #aspiring writer #creative writing #english composition #writing #literature #poetry

Would I rather the pain of guilt

than to reside in this sense-less night,

to feel that deep and wrenching

pang of despair and hopelessness

so rooted in my stomach

instead of observing idly as they pass by.

I do feel them still,

I do not doubt that they are there.

They simply are not truly mine;

they lay muted under tones of grey,

laying behind the static of a screen

that I observe with eyes glazed.

I am aware, albeit vaguely,

that they belong to me,

it's just that right now,

this body isn't mine;

it hasn't been for a while.

#creative writing #aspiring writer #aspiring author #writing #literature #english composition #poetry #poems #poet #poetic #poems and poetry

Death, I find, my soul does bind

With ropes of satin and cuffs of silk.

Discomfort finds me not in my tower

I relish and despise not a single hour.

My lover as I take him is feared by most;

They pray and plead with their gods above

Holding him in all regards but love.

That is why I chose to lay

Side-by-side with the Finality Grey.

Bound may I be, for he fears I may leave,

So many have scorned him for his nature be, but

I will unhaltingly speak of my love,

for the life I give marks not the end of our bond.

Our spirits intertwined as stars within the sky

That Nyx blankets in eternal night.

Death, my love, I'll leave you never,

With all of my being I hold to the tether

Of love eternal that ties our souls,

Even if from Heaven it mine abhors.

------

Can you tell I'm taking excessive amounts of Shakespeare this semester? lol

#aspiring author #creative writing #writing #english composition #aspiring writer #literature #shakespeare

She told me I needed sleep.

Sleep?

No, I needed to unfold the ideas within my mind, to let them expand across whatever canvas they may find. I needed to let them intertwine with the universe, dance among the stars, sing with the Sun, entrance the Moon. I needed to let the Milky Way envelope me in her starry, warming embrace and let me simply be. I needed my thoughts to lift from my mind as the fog lifts from the lake, dissipating into the air and becoming one with the Earth. My heart yearns more than a lover for her war-bound soulmate to let myself experience being the universe.

I am night and day, a freezing fire of the scalding arctic. I am the midnight sun, blazing fiercely over a flaming ocean. I am chaos incarnate and peace everlasting, the moments before the sun lifts her head to greet the day and the moments before the moon lays her to rest. I am intertwined with the skies and the stars, I exist with them as much as I am them. We do not hold the wrongs done against us to us closely. The world has failed, and the failure is inevitable. We see those trying to stop it. The efforts do not go unnoticed, for somewhere in the rainforest I hear the song of the birds who were saved. I hear the lion in the savanna roaring with pride as it lives to see another day. I see the turtles hatching from their eggs and diving headfirst into the vast expanse of space on earth. We see you. I see you.

I need the promise of an eternity that expands through the vastness of life, every planet, every star, every sun, every galaxy, every universe. I need an undefined nature of the world, the chaotic tranquillity of it all.

I will not sleep until I find such wonder, or until Death himself beckons me toward him with scythe lowered, arms open.

#aspiring author #creative writing #aspiring writer #english composition #writing #english literature #literature #mindless thoughts #pointless writing

i take death as my lover,

by him i rest at night.

though others fear his freezing touch,

in it, i find soft delights.

fingers of ice feel strangely warm

as they run through my hair

blue lips he leaves, but does not possess,

lighting a path of fire down my neck and in my chest

his embrace is tight, ensuring no escape

But i stay of my own free will

Tangled in his arms, i choose to lay,

complacent in all he bids

———

i’m not sure why but i’ve found it fun to write death personified. it’s an interesting concept to me and i like playing with it in my writing. that or i’ve just been studying way too much Shakespeare this semester

#writing #creative writing #death #poetry #literature #english composition #author #aspiring writer #aspiring author #death personified

*hugging goodbye*

him: i mean this in the least weird way possible but your hair smells really good

me: you said that last time we hugged

him: oh. did i?

me: pfft yes

he is the most golden retriever person i have ever met and i will protect him at all costs because LOOK AT HIM 😭

#we both have adhd #he forgor #literal golden retriever #moments

many people see Death as daunting. a tall, hooded figure with his scythe glistening under the light of inevitability.

Death is not as he is portrayed.

he met me once, at the edge of the bridge. he spoke to me.

Do not try to do my job for me.

he is not angry. he is not thieving. he does not exist on the basis of taking. he knows his time.

when i looked at him, it was not the dark figure of brooding doom. he was as the night sky, his cloak an ever-changing mirage of stars. he held not his scythe, no, he had laid it to the ground. instead, he held his arms out. open. inviting. away from the edge. away from the plummet.

Death held me, and i cried. i cried for myself, i cried for all he has taken, and i cried for him. i cried for Death, and he cried for me.

he knows when your time is. do not think you are doing him a favor by taking it into your own hands. he will meet you when he is ready, and he will be as gentle as the circumstances allow.

———

Recently I’ve been finding myself writing out my inexplicable feelings into short little blurbs like these. I wanted to share them somewhere so where better than tumblr? Who knows how many I’ll post.

-K

#writing #literary #creative writing #small thought #death #work in progress #english composition #aspiring writer #aspiring author #booktok #booklr

today was probably the first time i looked in the mirror and didn’t feel depersonalized. actually, it was the opposite, it was grounding. my skin is far from perfect. it’s bumpy, especially by my nose. there’s four sparsely distributed beauty marks. my eyebrows are slightly overgrown, but instead of looking at myself in disappointment like usual, it’s humanizing. seeing all the things deemed as “flaws” just reminds me how human i am when i feel otherwise. it reminded me i’m actually here.

#idk it felt humanizing #instead of depersonalizing #i just thought it was a nice change #i’m sure someone else needs to hear this

i just overslept through my therapy appointment that i didn’t even know i had because it wasn’t in my calendar for some reason FUCK

resqectable

“There are times when I am convinced I am unfit for any human relationship.”

— Franz Kafka, Letters To Felice

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