Daily Writing Journal

I want to start setting aside 5 minutes everyday to just write. So here’s what I came up with. Please send me writing prompts! I’d love to write about them.

[thedailywritingjournal]

He was never mine, but losing him broke my heart.

It was in the summer time that he dropped the bombshell of having a new girlfriend. We were friends, of course. But I’d always thought we had been more than that.

A few days prior to the heart shattering conversation, he’d been lying on my bed until the early hours of the morning. We’d been talking, kissing, cuddling, never further than that. When he said “I really like you..” I assumed that meant in a more than friends kind of way. But perhaps it was just in a I’m bored and you’re here way instead.

I guess it wasn’t so much what he said, but the way he said it. There was no easing me in gently, no softening the blow. He said it with excitement in his voice and a song in his heart and that hurt the most. I thought I was the only one he’d been cuddling up to at night, kissing until we could barely keep our eyes open. But apparently not. Apparently I was one of many, but not the one. He was never really mine, but losing him broke my heart.

[thedailywritingjournal]

I stare down at my hands and notice that they’re covered in blood. It’s warm and sticky and coats my hands like glue. I can feel it dripping from my fingertips and running down my wrists but I sense it’s not my own.

Of course it’s not my own, I knew that anyway. It’s his. It was always going to be his. right from the start, they had said that if he were to die then his blood would be on my hands. And here we are. He died weeks ago and now these dreams haunt my nights.

I watch as it moves over my hands like it’s alive. Like it’s a snake coiling round my fingers. It squirms in and out, over and under, rolling as if dancing on my palms. I try to shake it off but it only makes it stronger and more viscous. It’s here to stay, and that’s my fault. It’s all my fault.

[thedailywritingjournal]

Just one more kiss.

I’d worked with you for years, kissed you for months and now had been broken up for weeks. And yet every time you walked through that door my heart still skipped a beat.

I know that you had moved on and were with someone new, but it didn’t stop my heart from aching for your touch every time we were together. My skin tingled at the anticipation of even brushing against you, but I knew that you felt nothing for me.

All I wanted to do was brush my lips against your cheek and run my hands though your hair one more time. But instead, I just carried on working and pretended like you were never there.

[thedailywritingjournal]

You dumped me the day before my birthday.

She had drunk far too much and she knew it. She had the tingly, warm feeling in her finger tips that meant she kept touching things just to feel the sensation again. Her face was beginning to go numb, starting with her nose, and she knew that she was no longer thinking straight.

She wasn’t even going to go. Last week, she would have said that she wouldn’t have been seen dead at his house party. Oh no, there was absolutely no way that she was going. And now, most people had gone home and here she was, sitting on the floor in his living room staring at the same blue eyes that had broken her heart.

“How have you been then?” He asked her as he sipped his drink. She shrugged her shoulders.

“Crying!” She wanted to shout at him, “trying to get over you.” But instead, she stayed silent. Because the thing is, he’d broken her heart and left her on the day before her birthday and still sent her the stupid card he’d bought weeks earlier with all their favourite pictures on it.

At first she had thrown it in the bin but she’d soon gone back and salvaged it. She started at it some evenings and cried at what they once had.

[thedailywritingjournal]

She had heard someone enter her house as she laid in bed that night. The slight scuffle of shoes as they came up her garden path, the rattling of the bells she had placed by the front door, and the hushed voices that came from downstairs.

It was that kind of world now. Ever since the virus had spread and left nothing but the walking dead roaming the streets, people had taken to stealing whatever they could to survive the winter months.

She crept quietly down the stairs and peered through the crack in the door to watch the rifle through her cupboards. She wasn’t sure whether to burst out and be the brave, independent woman, or cower in the dark and hope they went away.

[thedailywritingjournal]

It was one of those nights where she knew she wasn’t going to get any sleep. She tossed and she turned and tried to calm her racing mind but nothing she could do would send her off. His face kept coming up in her head and she missed him.

It wasn’t until the sunlight started to come through the gap between her curtains that she finally found comfort in sleep. And even then, her dreams were haunted by his voice, his face and his laugh. There was nothing she could do to get him back now. He was gone, and she’d just have to live with it.

[thedailywritingjournal]

I still think about you

I still think about you. It doesn’t matter if I’m alone or with friends, you cross my mind everyday. Sometimes I’m sat in the car, the raindrops trailing down my windscreen and I think about the nights we spent sat out in the rain just talking.

It doesn’t matter if I’m happy or sad, alone or in company, I still think about you. I know it’s been a long time since you left me, but I still miss your presence, your touch and your general being.

[thedailywritingjournal]

Tell her I’m sorry.

Tell her I’m sorry I cheated,

That I wasted all of her time.

Tell her I’m sorry I messed up,

And that I miss calling her mine.

Tell her I regret the choices I made,

I regret them every day.

Tell her I’ve changed my mind,

And there’s so much I wish I could say.

Tell her if I could go back I would,

I wouldn’t hurt her twice.

Tell her that I’ve learned my lesson,

That I know I’ve paid the price.

Tell her I’m sorry cheated,

Tell her I’m sorry it’s done.

[thedailywritingjournal]

It had been weeks of late night phone calls and conversations. It was dirty little messages and flirty comments that led us to the one drunken night.

We’d both drank far too much and by the end of the night were slumped up on the sofa, my head on your shoulder, your arm around me. You tickled my arm carefully, your fingers gently moving across my skin.

I closed my eyes as I nestled in closer to your body. You were warm and familiar. You made me feel safe. Your hand gently moved from my arm to my chin, you pulled me in closer until I could feel your breath against my nose.

I had never wanted to kiss someone more than I did in that moment. I wanted you to kiss me like the world was going to disappear any second. I wanted you to take my breath away and become lost in the moment that was just between you and I.

You kissed me softly on the lips, running your hand over my face. And then it became harder, more needy, as if a wave had come over us that I never wanted to end. But it does, like everything. And when it did I rested my head back on your shoulder. Feeling like if the world did suddenly disappear, at least I had you by my side.

[thedailywritingjournal]

A friendly hug

He hugged me for the first time in weeks. His arms wrapped around me and I rested my head against his chest. He was warm and safe, I felt loved and wanted again.

I breathed in his scent, never wanting it to end. I thought of what it would be like to look up and kiss him. His lips looked soft and delicate and I knew he was someone who knew what he was doing.

I looked up for a moment, hoping to catch his eye. But he wasn’t looking. We pulled away from the hug again as friends, as people who knew they wanted one another but couldn’t.

[thedailywritingjournal]

Please let me do it myself

Stop trying to be the hero all the time. You don’t have to always come in and save me. You don’t always need to try and help. Sometimes I want to be able to sit and save myself for once.

I’m not some innocent little girl. I’m not some little child. I can handle myself you know. Sometimes I’d like to feel the weight of the world on my shoulders and learn how to shrug it off so it doesn’t hurt so much.

[thedailywritingjournal]

I thought of you today, whilst I was putting away the dishes. I don't know what made me think of you, but I did. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen your face, it’s probably changed now. Maybe you’re older, more mature. Perhaps you’re not.

But it was your old face and your old smile that came into my mind today. As if the soap suds between my fingers had conjured up yours between them and you were back by my side.

Your smile flashed through my mind and your voice seemed to ring loud in my ears. It wasn’t for long mind you, just enough to bring back the painful heartache that you’d left behind.

I thought of you today for the first time in a long time. I thought if you, and I miss you.

[thedailywritingjournal]

In her kiss I taste the revolution

It was the end of the world as we knew it. Something had changed long ago and the human race had almost died out. They had forced us to hide underground, to runaway from the governments wishes and to forever watch her backs.

I had almost been caught back then. And yet here I was, standing among one of the largest groups of rebels in the world. I was surrounded by people who had fought for their right to stay alive and to live as they wanted to.

The leader of the group was a fiery, red headed girl. She was the eldest in a long line of successful leaders who had built this organisation up from the ground all those years ago.

She was pretty, she was witty and my god was she confident. She walked around the hideout radiating an aura of power. And yet, at night, when she crawled into bed with me, she was still just a young girl.

It was late one night when the alarms deep within the hideout were activated. Panic surged through the chambers like wildfire and she ran through the corridors up to the deck, her hair trailing behind her like a lantern. I followed closely behind her, pulling on a shirt and trying to tie my laces as I went.

They were here, they had found us, there was no escape. She commanded the people like she had been doing this all her life, I suppose she had. And she grabbed a gun from the side and loaded it one handed.

“Don’t let me die.” She whispered to me, pulling me in and kissing me as if it was the last thing she’d ever do.

“I won’t.” I whispered back, “we’ve got this”. And in her kiss I could taste the revolution.

[thedailywritingjournal]

You have broken my heart so many times I no longer know what to do with the pieces.

I can’t even begin to think about when it started, when you first broke my heart. Was it when you slept with another woman? Was it when you told everyone I wasn’t good enough?

And I still took you back. I don’t know how many times I’ve picked myself up from the floor and told myself I’m good enough just to be torn back down by you again.

I can’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve taped and glued my heart back together and handed it cautiously back to you and watched you smash it over the floor. My hands are scratched and held together with plasters from carefully picking up the shards.

[thedailywritingjournal]

Resisting the urge

It’s been a long time since I could kiss you whenever I wanted. And I know that we’re still friends, but I don’t think that will ever be enough for me.

Today you wrapped your arm around me whilst you laughed. It was a friendly, side-on hug. The kind you give your best friend. Yet, I had to resist the urge to kiss your cheek.

I could almost feel the stubble beneath my cheek, scratching at my skin. I could almost remember the feel of my lips grazing your skin, soft and gentle. I could sense the little smile that would play over my face as I did it.

But I stopped myself. I resisted the urge, and instead I laughed with you and rested my head on your shoulder. Perhaps I nestled in a little too much, or hugged my arm around your waist just a little too tightly. Maybe the smile did play across my face and maybe my eyes closed for just a second too long as I remembered what it would be like to kiss you again.

But we’re friends, and I get that. I know that’s all we’ll ever be. But it doesn’t stop me missing the times when I could kiss you whenever I wanted to.

[thedailywritingjournal]

You made me feel like I was hard to love.

5 years we had been together. 5 years and there had been more lies than I cared to count. It started off as friendly meetings with other girls in the back of your car, sex was not on the cards apparently. But I wasn’t there. I’d never know.

And then it moved from the car to their house. Was it in their bed? I’d never know. Because I wasn’t there. It started as odd jobs, a light fitting here, a cupboard door there. And it ended as a weekly occurrence just because.

And then came the lies, the hiding of the phone. The late night messages to the other girls when you’d send me off to bed. I don’t know what they said, I guess I’ll never know.

Soon, it became lies about where you were and who you were seeing. It was a night out with the boys that were actually nights in with her. All whilst I sat at home and wondered what was going on and why you hadn’t called. I felt unloved, untouched, unwanted.

Next came the accusations. I wasn’t affectionate enough. I wasn’t loving enough. I wasn’t lenient enough. I was controlling, psychotic, off my rocker. And yet I had done nothing wrong. No lie had ever passed my lips.

Soon, it was overnight stays in another girls bed. It was late night conversations about how much you loved her, how beautiful she was and how much you wanted to be with her and not me. And yet I still didn’t find out, not until afterwards. Still I sat at home, patiently waiting, always loving.

And then, 10 girls later, when I finally walked out, broken and bruised and my heart in pieces, did you finally admit what you’d done. But it was still my fault, still my negligence that pushed you into the arms of another woman. But I had done nothing but love and care and provide. And you had done nothing but lie and cheat and break me.

Maybe one day I’ll love again. But I don’t know if I can ever trust. And that’s on you. You made me feel like I was hard to love. You made me feel unworthy of your time.

[thedailywritingjournal]

One o’clock

It’s 1 o’clock in the morning and I can’t sleep. I turn over and see you lying there, fast asleep and probably dreaming. Your breathing soft and steady in the silence of the room.

I run my fingers along your back, tracing the freckles like constellations with my finger tips. I run my hand down your spine and feel the warmth of your skin beneath mine.

You stir for a moment, a long sigh escapes your lips as you readjust your position under the covers. I wonder whether it’s my touch that’s woken you, but I guess I’ll never know.

I curl up behind you, draping one arm over your body and smile as you pull my hand into yours. I love you here, I love you now, and I’ll love you again in the morning.