You Can Never Plan The Future By The Past

My writing blog. Feel free to send prompts and such! Original blog is fulltimefangirllyfe.

[writers-cramp]

Emptiness

Sometimes I feel like there is a gaping black hole inside of me that will never be full

There is some deep, ugly, hidden part of me that constantly craves more

More attention, more food, more love, more friends , more recognition

More, more, more

At the end of the day it doesn’t matter what, I just need more. Of anything.

It slides through my stomach and crawls up my throat and I have to choke that slithering vine of “more” back

It reaches, desperate, to claw its way out of me and become known

My ugliness wants to be known

I do not want it to be known

I don’t want to know it

Shame bubbles and festers inside of me, the slow burn of it licking through my veins until I am consumed in its fire.

I feel selfish, greedy, unworthy of more

Worse, I feel empty. 

Nothing will ever be enough

Nothing can ever fill that gaping hole inside of me

It just begs and takes and grabs not caring about anyone or anything

I am choking on my gluttony, my greed. My need for more.

There is an emptiness inside of me that will never be filled no matter hw much it claws and grasps

[writers-cramp]

Just Right

I’m either too much or too little. It feels like there’s no in between. Either I’m too small and I fade and I’m quiet and no one notices me or I’m too much and too big, too loud, and so obnoxious, just desperate for someone to see me. I act/talk without thinking and worry over the details later. I’m constantly afraid I’ve said the wrong thing. When will it be enough? I try so hard to be what I think people want me to be. Maybe that’s the problem. People don’t know who I am. Because I don’t know. Or if I do I don’t like me very much. She has no balance, no control, constantly anxious. Mean and nice all at once. Warm but cold at the same time. I’m constantly fighting two extremes. There is no middle ground. If I don’t like or know myself, why should others? When will I be just right, just enough. When will I be desirable? When will people choose ME?

[writers-cramp]

Prompt: late night thoughts part 1

I lie awake at night consumed by thoughts of self hatred. Even with no one around to see me covered in a blanket and holed up in my dark corner, I feel self conscious. I can feel every roll of skin, all of my stomach pushing against my thin sleep shorts and rolling over the top. I feel my thighs chafing against each other bc it’s too hot in my room for pants. I lay, my head on a pillow, immensely aware of my double chin. No one is here to see me in the darkness, covered completely. But I feel everything. My fingers caress my skin and grip every roll of my stomach as if I can pinch it away. My brain holds tight to these thoughts, doesn’t let them escape. I can’t escape from the hell of my own mind. I can feel my arms resting on my stomach fat as I type and I’m disgusted. I don’t know how to feel beautiful. Most days I wish I had no physical form because of how much I hate mine. I hate every part of the body that is “mine”. I struggle to float and keep my head above the waves of my thoughts but sometimes I’d rather drown. I feel completely helpless as if no matter what I do to remedy my fat, it will always be there. I feel my love handles and extra skin and fat bulging in my clothes and I am disgusted. I want to tear my skin away and cease to exist. Every night it’s the same. Every night I wrestle with these thoughts as I am once again left alone with them.

[writers-cramp]

Prompt: Hurt

It’s broken shards of glass in your fragile heart. When their mouths say “you’re so sweet!” And “I love you!” But their eyes say “I don’t actually like you.” It’s missing your best friend when she moved on to someone else and forgets about you. When you feel like no one trusts you, another shard lands itself in your heart. It’s feeling like you’re missing out on so much in the world but you can’t leave your bubble for fear of being shunned by the people who don’t even care about you. When you can’t break out of your bubble of safety, of the way it’s always been, but you’re still always on the outside looking in. If you feel you’re not good enough for anyone or anything, another piece of your soul breaks and lands in your heart. Soon there will be no more room. Your chest aches with the thought of it. Soon your heart will be irreparably damaged.

[theunamazingauthor]

Dialogue prompt 78

“You’re late.”

“Hey, I’m here and I’m dressed… mostly. What more do you want?”

“This is your brother’s funeral”

“Please, this is like, his third one this year.”

[promptsandpointers]

Prompt : 

A town is divided into two factions and each refuses to cooperate with the other, doing their best to avoid speaking or even seeing them. What is the source of the estrangement? Where do your characters fall in the conflict?

Submitted by @theniwasfone

[oopsprompts]

“Trying to be cute won’t work on me – oh, god, it works, it totally works.”

[prosepages]

Writing Prompt #550

Write about a time when your character withheld information and faced major consequences because of that decision.

[mjolnirsammy]

writing is great but it’s also insanely tiring because like

writing is frustrating

not writing is frustrating

wanting to write and not being able to is frustrating

not wanting to write but knowing you have to because deadlines are a thing is frustrating

[here-be-fangirls]

Looking for writing blogs to follow!

Hey lovelies! I recently created a writing sideblog at @dragonkissed, because I want to get a bit more involved in the Tumblr writing community, and I’m looking for some writing blogs to follow. I’ll be following from my main, @here-be-fangirls, but I’d love to be writing buddies and cry over how hard dialogue is over at dragonkissed, so please like or reblog this if you’re a writing person, and I’ll check out your blog! Thanks <3

[arequipenby-moved-deactivated20]

“writers always know exactly where they are going with their work!”

r u sure

“no writer does anything by mistake, it’s all very strategic”

r u sure

“they use symbolism in everything. for example, a simple sentence symbolises directness and-”

R U SURE

[entropyalarm]

The best moments in writing is when you discover you did something absolutely genius by complete accident.

[uzusanageyama]

stuck in the constant limbo between “really excited about my own writing” and “pretty sure I can’t actually write”

[writers-cramp]

Prompt: bottom of the ocean

In the depths of the deep blue sea live strange creatures. Men and women with slimy scales and gills instead of lungs haunt the bottom of the ocean. These creatures are masters of deception and disguise, luring sailors to their deaths. At least, that's what the myths say. But how would the myths know if everyone who encountered the creatures has died? No, these creatures are not that of deceit and death. They are fanciful, wild things who love exploring and playing. They are often immensely vain, poring over their appearance and reflections with great care. They preen over their glistening tails and beautiful hair. Their kingdom is a proud one. If you dive deep enough, you will find treasures upon treasures; glittering jewels and creamy pearls galore. These creatures with their pride and vanity and vast kingdoms are known to humans as "merpeople". Many have tried to catch a glimpse of their beauty and many claim to have seen a tail or fin as they dove into the water to escape curious eyes. My father always told me stories of the merpeople. They've fascinated me since I was young. Mother always tells him not to put that garbage in my head. And she tells me to get my head out of the clouds (well, ocean) and think about school. But she can't stop me from visiting the docks every night. There, I sit in the moonlight (sometimes with my dad) and hope to catch a glimpse of the magnificent creatures that live at the bottom of the ocean . Occasionally I'll think I saw a fin here or a scale there or a glimpse of hair braided with pearls and gems but I can never be sure. I wish I had gills and a tail and could live among the sand and strange fish and plants and the merpeople at the bottom of the ocean. Maybe then I'd be able to breathe.

[a-mahariels-travels]

How to be a Writer

Step 1: Hate everything you ever write ever.

Step 2: Keep writing.

[writers-cramp]

The five types of writers block

Inspirationless: where you have the motivation but just can't think of anything good to write.

Motivation Deprived: you have the idea, but just, don't really wanna.

Pooped: Basically you have no ideas and don't really feel like writing anyways.

Procrastination: Where you are SO PUMPED TO GET THIS THING DONE!! But, there's that other thing, and, your show is on, and, you'll just do it tomorrow.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

[writers-cramp]

Prompt: ghosts who won't leave you

They're always there. Whispering at the back of your mind. A brush of icy fingers against your arm. They whisper of forgotten promises and old memories. Some days they're loud. Their presence is everywhere; in the coffee you drink to wake up, in the fluttering pages of your physics textbook, and in the lyrics of pop songs as you drive. You try to forget, to push them away and leave them behind. You put the memories in boxes ans store them away and try to make new memories. But they grip your sleeve like a child clings to their mother every time you try to slip away. Remember me? They whisper. No, you want to say back. But of course you remember because how could you forget? Forget the feel of their arms around you and their breath against your hair, warm and full. The feelings of their fingers in yours, palm againsg palm, a thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. Remember me? They whisper. Yes.

[writers-cramp]

Prompt: aesthetic??

Thanks to tumblr and help from my friends I've fallen in love with the idea of aesthetic. The idea faded Polaroids, fairy lights, and gazing at the stars with friends or a significant other. The idea of road trips to nowhere in a van of a funky color. Staying out late to catch fireflies and kiss under the stars. Books have resulted in a jumbled mess of characteristics into the perfect dream guy or girl and my standards are too high. I've fallen in love with candid pictures and beautiful filters. Of having a soundtrack to my life like a movie. Sneaking out of my window like a reckless teen and falling in love with the guy who lives behind me who is also a theatre kid. I see clothes on other people that I want but don't have the fashion sense to put together. I dream of doing things with my friends that they'd never actually do. I romanticize driving at 3 AM and having senseless conversations,driving nowhere. I dream of adventures at night that aren't all actually possible and would actually have repercussions. I have dreamt up an entire world of possibility that I want to live in but can't. Because that's all it is. A dream. It's not reality. There's a reason these ideas only exist in movies, books, and the creative minds of Tumblr. My dream guy is someone who could never be rea and leaves me feeling like I'm settling for other boys which is so untrue. Aesthetic has ruined me for reality. (Side note: basically this was based off of all the Raven Cycle aesthetic posts I see and the talented and creative people who make headcanons for this fandom. Keep being creative, guys! Send me prompts!)