Writering... Or Something

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[writeringorsomething]

My soulmate

First of all let me tell you, he’s a pain in my ass. But I recognized him from the start. The first time I saw him I wanted to write a story about him. I didn’t even know who he was but I had guesses and ideas and I wanted to right them down. In the words of an underrated poet, “your soulmate will be the stranger you recognize,” and I may not have recognized him but I wanted to write a story about him and for me, the writer and the dreamer, that is my soul recognizing him. Now. About him. He’s a few inches taller than me and he holds his height very proudly. He’s very sensitive. Like extremely sensitive. And earning his trust is very hard and I’m not sure I’ve even done it yet. I fee comfortable with him. Like I could tell him anything. He’s a little evil and a little flirty. And extremely sexy. I could be having the worst day ever and he’d just look at me a certain way and I’d be turned on. He’s strong both physically and mentally. He’s worked hard his whole life. His mind works in beautiful ways and it’s a mess but I’ll spend my life trying to figure it out. He’s got these pretty eyes that are a deep color that can’t even be named. It’s not blue or green but it’s not turquoise either. It’s beautiful. He always finds a way to get what he wants. It drives me crazy. But he’ll do it. He’s incredibly smart. I can’t even try to understand some of the things he can comprehend. He’s got a strong will. He makes things happen. He’s my soulmate and I’m so proud of him.

[lunas-worlds-blog]

“Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something and has lost something.”

H. Jackson Brown Jr.

[writeringorsomething]

I’m afraid of love yet I love the idea of having it and it is something that once upon a time, I lost

[silent-insanities]

I wish I made you happy.

[writeringorsomething]

She broke down as her best friend held her and shushed her, stroking her hair. “I don’t think I was meant to have love,” she whispered into the other girls sweater. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be happy and I don’t think I’m meant to be with someone.” Her best friend shushed her. “Of course you’re supposed to be happy, you’ll find someone,” but the girl shook her head. “No. I found someone and they didn’t want me. I wanted them for years and was so so good to them for years. I exauhsted myself for them for years. And then I gave up and I met someone new and he treated me so well for a short time and then forgot about me just like he does every other girl. And now this. I had to go and try to love someone who’s more broken, got a worse past than me. I tried to love someone who couldn’t be loved. And now here I am again, heart broken because I don’t deserve the kind of love I’m willing to give and that’s just the way that it is.”

[writeringorsomething]

I’m not expecting all rainbows and sunshine but I also don’t want constant lightning and clouds

[writeringorsomething]

Confusing.

I’m so constantly confused by you. You’re still hurting from your ex yet you’re with me and I don’t know if that’s because I pressured you into it or because you thought you could handle it. You’re mad at the fact that most of my friends are guys and that they’re not what you see as friends. You’re constantly in a bad mood and I try to stay positive and be encouraging and happy but it’s hard because I feel your weight dragging me down. You made promises of forever with her and I don’t know how I could ever replace those.

[writeringorsomething]

And last night I almost blamed him. I almost told him the truth. That he’s the reason why none of my relationships are successful. He’s the reason that I can’t be happy. He’s the reason that I hurt so much even when it seems like I should be happy. He’s the reason that I always feel like I’m doing something wrong. Because none of these other relationships are supposed to work. Not when I felt it so deeply for him for so long.

[writeringorsomething]

I just want to be with someone that doesn’t constantly make feel shitty or like I’m doing something wrong. I want to be with someone that makes it feel like I’m easy to love and that’s easy to love in return. I’m always up for challenges but not in love where I’ve faced far too many.

[writeringorsomething]

Tied down

“You can’t tie her down,” he said to his friend that sat next to him, tears down his cheeks. “She made a life for herself before you came along. Even before I did. And there’s nothing to be done about. She’s not going to get rid of her friends or change the way things are with them just to make you happy. She learned from him long ago that changing herself wasn’t the way to make a boy fall in love and that if it was, it wasn’t the way she wanted it to be.” The younger boy rubbed his friends back and gave him a sad smile. “I don’t understand why they’re her friends though, it seems like they’re just asses that hurt her but she loves them so much.” His friend laughed. “They are asses but that’s why she loves them. They toughen her up, give her an edge that she needs to survive her crazy life. And if we’re honest, she doesn’t remember life without them and she doesn’t want to.” The sad boy shook his head. “But what about him? Hasn’t all he ever done been to hurt her?” They were silent for a minute. “Ya know, for the longest time I wasn’t sure why she loved him. But then I realized that they have this kind of bond that no one could beat. They just look at each other to communicate sometimes it’s crazy. But if I had to answer why she loved him. It’s because she can always go to him. She could ignore him and beat up on him for months but the second she’s sad she could go for him to comfort like nothing had happened. And he’d let her. He may not love her like that but he doesn’t want her to be hurt and he knows she’s more sensitive then most. She’s willing to go back to him every time he hurts her and he welcomes her with open arms and there’s just something about that feeling that knowing no matter what happens, they’re there for each other that keeps her with him. No matter how long and hard and hurt its been or she’s gone through. That’s why she loves him”

[writeringorsomething]

A republican fell in love with a liberal and then it all went to shit

[writeringorsomething]

Every little girl wants to look up to their dad. And I did for a long time before I knew the truth. I saw him as my hero, someone I wanted to be like when I grew up. He was a role model and someone I could trust. But when I got older I learned what was going on. I learned about the websites my dad looked at when he was away on business trips. I learned that he was working late at night because emptying a six pack into his stomach isn’t work for him. I learned that he’d messed up our family so much financially that we couldn’t afford to fix our air conditioning for more than two years. We had to use a credit card to buy groceries. We didn’t have enough of our own money to buy food. We had to borrow. And all that means is that later on, we’ll have to pay that money too. And then came this ‘holiday’ season. First he drove himself home drunk from a Christmas party. He promised mom he wouldn’t. Then, came lunch today. He got drunk with a colleague and someone found them. He drove my dad home. And my sisters saw and that’s something I’ll never forgive him for. He can mess with my head. He can make me think he’s okay. But once he brings his problem to my sisters attention he’s gone too far. That’s not okay. They’re young. I’m older than them by far, I know what’s going on, I can handle it. They’re young. They shouldn’t know what it means to be drunk. They shouldn’t know what their father looks like stumbling down the driveway. They shouldn’t know that he has a drinking problem. But they do and now I’m left to pick up the pieces of my parents failing marriage and fathers alcoholism.

[writeringorsomething]

Deep down you know. Cuz if it wasn’t true you’d delete everything and you know what I mean.

[writeringorsomething]

Cold

This isn’t a chilly cold that comes from the air or the wind. It’s an inner cold that rips its way through my body from my toes to my legs up to my heart reminding me that something isn’t right. It’s the cold of not getting the same affection as normal because your person is mad at you. It’s an aggressive cold and one that can’t be solved with a blanket. It’s tearing an unforgiving path through me and I want it to stop. I want the cold to freeze.

[writeringorsomething]

Stockholm Syndrome

Why are you friends with them? Those boys, that make fun of you and tease you and insult you and flat out bully you sometimes? Why are you friends with those boys who aren’t ever happy with who you’re in a relationship with? Why are you friends with the boys who are so loud and obnoxious compared to you? Who joke and make crass remarks and lewd gestures? The ones who tell you you’re not cute and that you don’t know how to dress and that you’re not smart? Why are you friends with them? The one who asks for homework one night too many a week. The one who makes fun of you and every guy ever. The one who questions why you do the things you do. The one who reminds you constantly that you’re not smart.

I’m friends with them because I love them. Each one, all four. They’re my best friends. They know that and I may not be theirs and that’s okay. I don’t need to be. But they’re mine. They keep me in check. They make sure my head isn’t too far in the clouds. They do their best to keep me from getting hurt. They fill the silence in my life and remind me that love isn’t always clear to see. Sometimes it’s the teasing and the jokes. They keep me innocent. Making sure I don’t give too much of myself away before I’m ready. They don’t let my head get too big, make sure I know that I am not better than anyone because I’m not. We’re all equal. I’m friends with him because he gives me someone to help when I don’t feel like I’m good for anything. I’m friends with that one because I know he’s been there for every guy and every moment in between. I’m friends with Mr. questions because he makes me think, allows me to continue learning. And him? I’m friends with him because I can’t imagine my life any way else.

[writeringorsomething]

What is demisexual?

This is super duper late but I’m just now reading this haha. Sorry. Anyways.

Demisexual is a sexuality, just like homosexual, heterosexual, bisexual, etc...

It falls on the Asexual spectrum, an Asexual is someone who does not experience sexual attraction. A demisexual is someone who only experiences sexual attraction to someone who they have an emotional connection to. This part can be a little fuzzy and it confuses a lot of people but the best way to think about it (for me personally) is that a demisexual wouldn’t like a one-night stand with someone they met at a bar. They have no connection to them and therefore there cannot (or may not) be attraction.

That’s the simplest way I can put it. If anyone has anything to add, please feel free :)

[thearchangelwrites]

my dash is slow! reblog this if you’re: 

a writeblr!!

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a bookblr!

if you post about:

your ocs! 

your wip!

your writing process (original work or fanfiction!)

[jessicacaseyauthor-deactivated2]

Hey!! I’m a teen author who talks a lot about my upcoming book, writing process, advice, and stuff like that :)

[writeringorsomething]

Scars

Two scars on my left knee. One from the time a mean little girl threw a ball at my bike tire. The spoke punctured my skin. The other from some accident or another including building furniture. Scars litter my ankles. Signs of shaving too young and too careless. The scars on my face. From acne. The licking caused by anxiety. One day, they will fade. Scars already faded on my left wrist. From a time when I didn’t love myself. And no one seemed to notice. (Or no one seemed to care.) Scars, some faded and some ever white lace my hips. The only memories left of a time. That isn’t as long gone as it seems.

Scars, invisible. Create a picture on my heart. The initials of a certain boy I love. (He doesn’t love me.) The reminders that my parents marriage isn’t perfect. That being in a family of seven doesn’t mean you aren’t lonely. The messages that ex best friends left. The ones I’ll remember long after their names.

My scars.