It's my 6 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳
Never thought would make it this far

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@recluseactivist
It's my 6 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳
Never thought would make it this far
sometimes the search for closure does not lie in the end, but in the journey itself.
David sat hunched over his desk, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. It had been two years since his divorce, but the wounds were still fresh, raw, and bleeding. He clutched his pen tightly, the pressure punctuating the ache in his heart. The title of his book, "The Last Word," mocked him, as if taunting his inability to find closure in his own life.
Growing up in a small town with conservative values, David had always felt like an outsider. His parents, strict and unyielding, had hammered into him the importance of conformity and societal expectations. Endless rules and unspoken laws governed his every thought and action. The scars of his upbringing ran deep, manifesting themselves in the form of crippling self-doubt.
As he delved deep into the recesses of his mind, David realized that his troubles extended far beyond his failed marriage. He was grappling with a lifetime of suppressed desires and stifled dreams. The characters in his book became extensions of his own fractured existence. Each word he painstakingly wrote was a release, an attempt to untangle the twisted threads of his existence.
The protagonist of his novel, Daniel, mirrored David in many ways. Daniel, too, struggled with the weight of societal expectations and the burden of his own past. As David crafted the narrative, he found himself asking the same questions that haunted him in his own life. What is morality? Is it a set of rules imposed upon us, or is it something we create for ourselves? Can love truly exist amidst chaos? And how does one express love when they've never experienced it themselves?
The exploration of these themes began to take a toll on David's mental stability. He found himself living a fragmented existence, unsure of where reality ended and his book began. Sleepless nights and troubling nightmares became his constant companions. His yearning for the perfect book consumed him, overshadowing all else.
In his search for authenticity, David began to blur the lines between reality and fiction. The pain of his past became fuel for his creativity. He sought out experiences that would break him, push him to the edge and beyond. His love life became a series of reckless encounters, a desperate attempt to fill the void within him. But love, as he soon discovered, was not something that could be manufactured or simulated.
As David's mental state deteriorated, he became obsessed with the notion of having the last word. To him, suicide seemed like the ultimate act of courage, the final punctuation mark to his existence. The idea of leaving a lasting impact on the world intrigued him, convincing him that death was the only way to truly complete his narrative.
On a cold, wintry night, David took one last look at the book that had consumed his life. He saw in it his triumphs and his failures, his hopes and his despair. And with a heavy heart, he made his final decision.
In his small, sparsely furnished apartment, David wrote his last words. He poured his anguish, his longing, and his farewell onto the page. With a steady hand, he placed the pen down, closed his eyes, and let go.
His story, unfinished and untold, would forever remain a mystery, lost in the annals of time. But as the news of David's suicide spread, his book gained a newfound significance. Readers delved into his words, searching for the answers that eluded him in life. And in their interpretations, David's last words sparked countless conversations and debates, each reader finding their own truth within the pages.
David had found his closure and, in a way, the last word he so desperately sought. It was not the act of suicide that defined him, but the impact he had on the lives of those who read his book. Through his final act, he had created a narrative that resonated beyond his death, leaving an indelible mark on the world.
As readers closed the pages of "The Last Word," they were left with a bittersweet understanding. David had found his voice, his courage, and his final act of defiance. The echoes of his struggles lingered, a reminder that sometimes the search for closure does not lie in the end, but in the journey itself.
Why am I so mad?!
Why am I so mad?!
Is it my past
or just thy way that i am
I feel each hurt in turn
I hate the tears in my eyes
I scorn the joy in my heart
My thoughts race
each time i feel as if i loose face
this is not my place
this is not my choice
I hate the feeling
I hate the sensation
I just had to write to let it out
But I still couldn't answer
Why am I so mad?!
it's all that is required
I wish souls were like books,everyone would have a different message to be read.
Mwangangi Eric
She cries trying not to be heard
I only hear wimpers
But that doesn't seem enough
Words are the only thing I have
But my intelligence seems daft
Be strong I write
But the pen shakes in my hand
You are beyond this I add
But my past still haunts me
A hug will warm you
But inside I am as cold as I could ever be
Sometimes words are not what they seem
They are just masks we adorn
To fight the demons beneath
She responds she is okay
But I know that was just a veil
Sometimes I wish souls could be read as books
Everyone would have a different message.
Thinking about it hurts
emotions mixed up
A tearstained aura they depict
Nothing is alive inside
A casket is all that remains
The cold ices all ounces of joy
I only reap losses from gains
I no longer smile
Only a crack is left
I no longer ooze with joy
My world is turned over
I no longer laugh
My voice chokes when I try to
I no longer feel the need to live
Inside I died a long time ago
-Mwangangi Eric
Brighter day
The sky is gay
But the day is straight
A few minutes past eight
I'll surely know where my fortunes lay
I am willing to pay
Though am not in debt
Attention dearly needed
For dreams of brighter days
A day full of light
But not in dire plight
To what heights should I measure up?
To achieve dreams of greater heights.
Looking into your eyes I see myself The reflection from isris seems happier Mine from a mirror is dull in comparison Nowadays the colours seem brighter Even the stars in the sky seem to twinkle in acknowledgement I was forever shy But your smile each time makes me want to stand out People say that love is a drug, I bet I’m already an addict I don’t see myself as a convict of what we have but rather an activist Say no to pessimist or whoever may try to sway you Even in times of doubt just know I will always be with you Though its been said that love is like death, Many people believe that it exists but very few are willing to die to prove that it exists I can confidently say I found mg death in your eyes and my tombstone rests on your heart.
Copyright: Mwangangi Eric
Soft hearted people are the best, they cushion your heart from any bruises or damage that one might have to encounter when falling in love with them.
Mwangangi Eric
Everyone fears being vulnerable, it's just disheartening how people find it unbearable. Truth be told even the deepest of scars are repearable, all it needs is just a little love and warmth.
Mwangangi Eric
"Even the deepest of silence speaks volumes, we just have to learn to listen".
Mwangangi Eric