#writerscafe

[alicewritten]

settling in my new home after yet another move, these notebooks hold more of my life than any 4-walled room.

[itimetraveller]

True friends don't make fun of your dreams

True friends encourage you

To be your best self

To always be positive

To always try and never give up

True friends help you overcome bad habits

But true friendships are rare in this world

It's sometimes better to be alone

[its3-15am]

Somewhere in everyone's minds should be a child in Gaza waiting for aid

Yet knowing it will not come

Somewhere in everyone's minds should be that mother in Gaza who wiped her child's blood with her hijab and put it back on soon after

Somewhere in everyone's minds should be the starving family in Gaza who is forced to eat sand to survive

When will humanity become humane? When will the homeland not be stolen anymore? When will the world wake up and realize how many innocent people have died as a result of the war. The children and the mothers and the brothers and the fathers who have fought to keep each other alive?

Mahmoud darwish once wrote," I do not know who sold the homeland but I know who paid the price."

-in the end Mahmoud darwish wrote the leaders will shake hands, yet the world will still be waiting. And waiting. And waiting. For when the children's father will be back, when the wife's husband will come back and reunite with his family. People will wait. Sabr Allah says sabr. In islam we do not have revenge. That is because Allah will punish those who transgress; they will answer for their atrocious acts. But in the end the leaders will shake hands. And nothing will change.

[circadeacademia]

Icarus, I know how it felt

I too, was a sunflower once

a summer song, a bard in motion.

I too, longed to be kissed by poems

to be fallen apart, crumbled against the palms like golden dust….

I too, inked moth’s madness onto my skin

chained my fate with ember sparks.

melted wax running down my shoulders

like sweet release of an angel's sin,

my ablaze skin

death's breath against my chin

but the fire that never really burnt out

was fuelled by the flames of my heart.

had the dead dreaming of the fireflies

ripped open my ribcage;

had the song of ocean turned my world upside down

had this bizarre triumph condemned me

to you for my heaven and inferno;

had my twisted fate, been a second too slow

I would've plummeted a supernova from the sky….

ruins of my hubris rained like burnt crystals

warped out of shape and time

was it my destiny to drown?

half ashes, half ocean in my lungs?

was it laugh of a madman?

echoing as I danced my way down?

one kiss. heaven’s venomous lips.

fallen. from one blue to the other.

to steal moment's golden bliss.

was it love? or damnation of a poet?

I know how it felt.

to long the eternity once for myself.

— circadeacademia

[whispersofthepurplevalley]

And you? Can't you forgive? Was the pain too harsh? Were they really that cruel to you? It's okay. Can you at least make them irrelevant to you for now? Can you move past the trauma? You deserve to be loved with the best form of honesty, and with every bit of permanence this temporary world has to offer. Can you be brave and choose healing for you? The world looks selfish I know. People can be bad with communication sometimes. People can be selfish because their vision is blinded by their own insecurities and issues. There are things you still don't know about them. There are matters they don't know how to handle. And none of it is your fault. Can you promise to choose yourself this time?

Sabina Yesmin

[kidgillis]

As she lies in the dark, she talks to God. About all the things that weigh down her heart while looking at the same stars she used to wish upon. Oh, how much things have changed from childhood to now...from a girl to a woman. Yet, still...she sits at her father's feet, pouring herself out.

[whatasillyweirdwhimsycalraccoon]

So...

Tried to read, then tried to write. I can write some which is an improvement somewhat. But...i don't feel it(?)

I write continiously a while ago but I notice my writing feels bland and doesn't feel right. I just explained facial expressions when they react at something, but it doesn't feel enough. Like it's bad. And that's making me stop writing it. Again.

I have an idea how I want this story in my head which motivates me to finish this. But I feel like I'm shit at writing things that I don't know what to do.

What do you do in this situation? When your writing becomes bland or doesn't sound 'right'? Should I just keep writing it despite it sounding like shit? I am writing down things about my characters, thinking maybe that will get me going--I hope.

[ninichii-xcix]

There are no words in the English dictionary that can ever begin to describe the pain of missing someone that you still see everyday. How it breaks your heart to see the same person but know that they are no longer the one you once loved the most. To see eyes once filled with love now look back at you with indifference. To hear very little words from the voice that once spoke to you endlessly until you fall asleep. To feel so unloved, unseen, unheard, unimportant to a person who once held you like you’re their most prized possession, like you were the greatest miracle in their life.