trying to forget the past

I am trying to write a poem about my loneliness
But the page just seems to insist
on staying empty.
But loneliness isn’t emptiness
loneliness is the lead ball in the pit of your stomach
and the feathers tickling the back of your throat
loneliness is the itch you cannot scratch
it’s feeling far too much
far too little.
Loneliness is an all consuming enigma
of the past
of a past
Of a past you’re trying to forget
Of a past you can’t help but regret
Of a past that shoved you into the position
of isolation in which you reside
In which you’re going to die.
And sometimes solitude becomes gratitude
but the demolition of the monuments
that used to be perched on my ribs
left nothing but dust
and I am no longer grateful.

I used to build shrines in my heart to girls who would
never quite love me.
But that was never loneliness.
Unrequited love is a social activity because broken hearts
scream louder than all the wind in the world
howling together.
Despite the rain and miserable weather
I could fill myself up with love even though no one
would ever reciprocate
even though I always had to compensate
by giving more than I had left in me.
I would clutch my chest and rip out pieces of my heart
on which metaphors for love and birds and bones
and sadness and stars
would rest.
I could gift these to those who smiled.
Because nothing cuts into loneliness like affection
or attention
or the smile of someone who has no
reason to.
I suppose I never had a reason to.

I am trying to write a poem about the rain.
They say that people are nothing like rain
nothing like snow
nothing like autumn leaves
because people do not look beautiful when they fall.
A phrase I could never quite wrap my head around.
Because to me falling is dancing
and dancing is writing
and writing is cleaning your body of the toxins
that well up behind your eyes
and hide behind your liver
and pump fluid in your lungs.
What isn’t beautiful is hitting the ground.
The snowflakes will dissolve and the rain
will be absorbed by the greedy earth.
The leaves will rot
and you’ll be taking shots
Until your heart falls out of your chest.

Loneliness is falling
and falling is dancing
and dancing is writing
and I am trying to write a poem about my overwhelming
fear of touching the solid ground.
I am trying to write a poem about falling
Because I reside in free fall
and my heart falls for the snow
and the snow falls for the rain
and the first rule of gravity is everything
must fall
So we fall
And I fall
and you fall.

—  Fall (Emf)
No Strings (VI)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jimin

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4,120

Summary: It started off as such a simple question. How to know if you’re bad in bed? Of course when you asked, you didn’t imagine Jimin would actually answer.

Originally posted by softsugamon

Keep reading

i don’t understand how some of you can sit here and try to force this mind set on people to believe that harry is doing this whole big solo thing when actually hes been doing nothing extra so far & doing a normal single release (just a little more dramatic and artsy) and that hes trying to erase himself from the band or trying to move on and forget the past / the boys and trying to convince everyone that hes the one ending the band when

1.) the band has been on hiatus since the end of 2015
2.) harry could’ve been a solo artist since like 2013 but never left the band
3.) its been over a year since the band went on break and hes just now releasing music, if he wanted to be the next jt he would’ve did it like a month after the break
4.) he explained in his magazine how they are on break and doing their own things
5.) he also explained in his magazine how this band was the best thing that ever happened to him
6.) just because hes being over hyped by his friends and the media doesnt mean harry asked / wanted them too, they have been over hyping everything he does for attention since xfactor tbh why is everyone acting surprised now ???
7.) he supported niall on his single, he supported louis at the xfactor with his new single
8.) the team (jeff & co) you are saying are encouraging the harry + ot3 hate were also the ones tweeting for 1d to win a brit rmbr ??? like ???

also did everyone forget that the boys all just wished him happy birthday publicly, even louis, louis !!! who hasnt tweeted harry publicly since like what 2013 or 14 i think like ??? if harry was this hot shot who wanted nothing to do with them they would’ve ignored him and not posted anything like they do on zayns birthday :) sooo i think that until harry says himself that hes over 1D (like zayn did when he went solo) im going to ignore this negativity around him because he doesnt deserve it, its not his fault that they put this image on him, he deserves a chance like niall and louis to be listened to and supported like we havent even heard him fucking speak yet and everyone is already turning on him relax, breathe, jesus christ.

6

I screw up a lot, alright. And being around you, I just don’t want to be that guy anymore. Who do you want to be, Nathan? I want to be somebody who’s good enough to be seen with you. You should have thought of that last night. You know, I keep putting myself out there and you keep blowing it. That’s probably a good thing…

take this moment to remember that neil josten is Not a Good Dude. he’s the son of a mobster, an experienced killer, a man with no restraints and a dangerous temper— the temper neil himself inherited and loathes. and sometimes it gets the better of him. sometimes he’s more nathaniel wesninski than he’d like to be. he does a good job of hiding it, but he’s both more dangerous and volatile than andrew.

So I sidestep things that remind me of you / the celtics / supernatural / her / that song I was listening to when we were talking last / things like that / so what am I missing? / when will I stop dodging punches you no longer are throwing? / if I get a message past 10:30 I think it’s from you / but it never is anymore / you said you were tired last Friday / remember when we stayed up late talking? / I’ve been trying to forget / I’m sorry for being so direct / but this keeps hurting / long past when the appropriate time to grieve ended.
—  we won’t talk like this again // we can hardly be friends– lily rain
The Past, The Present... The Future. -Part 9

Summary: In SHIELD you are known for your charisma and your irrational optimism. Specially taking in count the irreversible curse HYDRA condemned you with. Because of that, Director Fury has determinate that you are the best person to take care of Bucky’s mental state.

Chapter 9: Amonaliac

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Y/N: Your name

Warnings: (one?) curse word, heavy fighting (knifes, guns…)

A/N: The next chapter is finally here! I’m so sorry guys, I know it has taken forever. Hope you enjoy!

Previously: Part 1, Part 8

Originally posted by thebuckybrigade

Previously:

I back away from The Soldier, and Tony, and everyone. I knew this would happen, what did I expect? I should have been ready.

Through the door enter Nat, Clint, Steve and Bruce, presumably alerted by FRIDAY. Nat and Clint catch up with a simple gaze around the room, and with a few words form Tony, the other two also know what happened.

Bruce approaches me carefully and gently “Y/N. Can you hear me? You’ve been out for nearly ten minutes.” he takes a step closer “Please, confirm that you can hear me, Y/N, and we’ll take appropriate measures for what just happened.”

The room remains silent for a few seconds. I hear Bruce, but from really far away. Is he really talking to me? After a few more seconds of silence, Bucky storms out of the room like a hurricane. That helps me snap out of the trance. I look around for a second and then push everyone aside and run outside. The moon is already out, but I feel like cold air is the only thing I can stand right now.


Y/N’s POV:

Numbness. The feeling spreads through my body, making me feel like I’m floating in an silent, empty space. I can’t tell if it’s because of the cold or because of the flashback, but I practically stumble through the forest. I can’t seem to find enough energy in me to walk properly as the world swings in a blurred up reality.

That is, until I reach one of the deepest layers of the forest. Then suddenly a scream leaves my lips. It’s a rasp sound, like a hurting animal. I don’t know why I just did that, and I decide I don’t care. But then… then I start to feel fire slowly consuming my limbs, spreading through my body, eating away the numbness. A few seconds ago, I didn’t care. Now, I care too much.

The anger, the fire, spreads through my whole body, making me shake. I bite my lip so I don’t scream again, even though frustration is building up in my throat. My skin is burning despite the cold, and I start to run.

Keep reading

No Regrets (Part 6)

Here we go again. There is so much pressure for me to write well I don’t know how I’m still alive. I still enjoy it and I do hope you like it!

Word count: 2.5k (geez, more and more every time!)

Any feedback is much appreciated!

Want to catch up? Try Part 5 or here’s No Regrets Masterlist

@shamvictoria11 Is this what you thought would happen?

Originally posted by feueriosa



You needed another couple of days away from work. You’ve barely been back from your days off and you’ve already had enough of the drama. SHIELD used to be such a ‘boring’ place to work! That’s what you loved about it, there wasn’t much of the usual office relationship drama. That is until you allowed yourself to fall for Bucky. Everything went downhill from there.

You tried working from home but there was only so much you could do. There were classified data to be examined and SHIELD’s network had extra security software to make sure this information didn’t leak; you couldn’t risk handling that kind of intel outside a secure server. So as much as you wanted to stay in bed in your pyjamas watching Netflix you now had to get up and go to work. Yeah, it was not a prospect you were looking forward to but let’s be honest here – broken heart is not a real injury. You can’t pull a sickie because of that.

Keep reading

“You build on failure. You use it as a stepping stone. Close the door on the past. You don’t try to forget the mistakes, but you don’t dwell on it. You don’t let it have any of your energy, or any of your time, or any of your space.”   

- Johnny Cash.

Our souls are fragments of cloth constantly getting woven and unwoven by the fragile, old hands of destiny.
Sometimes, when she decides we’re better off not being together, she lifts her scissor and cuts the stitches that bind us together, and we’re left with parts of each other embedded into our skin, becoming parts of the coloured strings we’re made of.

It all sounds so simple until the pain of the sharp needle being constantly woven in and out of ourselves starts setting in.
And suddenly, our hearts get too heavy for us to hold and we come falling apart, crumbling like paper, aching all over.

When destiny cuts us off, we lose parts of ourselves.
The memories turn into wounds, the places where their hands have touched turn into nostalgia, closure becomes another excuse to talk to them again, stale love turns into obsession.

How do we learn when to heal?
When to let go of the things that used to love us?
When to stop loving them back?

We search for homes in empty bedsheets.
Both, as a part of them and within their unfamiliar frigidity.
We tend to old wounds while stitching up new ones.
Our paradoxes are curses of being utterly human.
We drown our pasts in bottles of liquor.
Hoping they’ll hold the future together when we can’t anymore.

It is not easy to heal but we use poetry as bandages and immerse ourselves in work so deeply that numbness is all that fills our chests.
We’re awfully human.
But we’re learning how to mend ourselves.
And we must get used to the fact that by the time we’re done, there’d be so many scars over our body that the tales of the fate we fought to embellish them will be the only colour illuminating our skin.

—  Tamarind Fall; Writing Prompt: About trying to heal. Trying to tend to old wounds while simultaneously stitching up new ones. Trying to forget the past and searching for home, wherever it may be. 
Making a Cooler World

By Shane Robitaille

When I saw a girl with crazy hair
and scuffed-up Doc Martens
stopping traffic as she walked
quickly across the busy boulevard,
I like to think that she was on a
mission to her best friend’s house,
or maybe meeting her bestie at
a cafe, where they will work on 
writing lyrics for their first song,
for their first punk album,
with a band that doesn’t exist yet.

And, maybe the reason why she 
looks wildly distracted is because
she woke up humming a peculiar
beat and she’s preoccupied,
humming as she strolls past the
mid-day suits, trying not to forget
how it went.

I like to think that an old Blondie
song somehow popped up on her
playlist a few weeks ago and
she couldn’t get it out of her head,
playing it over and over until she
took her hard-earned money and
bought the vinyl album from a
used record store in town.  

I like to think that her tribe gets
pissed off at ignorance and the
hate-filled news of the day and
that their generation is accused
of having no soul. 

And maybe the day’s politics
make them want to scream
from the rooftops, waking up
the sleeping city with their raw
energy, style and words that pierce
the pre-dawn light and reverberate
off of the grey buildings below.
 
As they scrawl their fiery hopes 
and dreams into cheap notebooks,
I hope they stay true to their 
crazy ass ideas of a cooler world,
and that they block out all the
“practical” and “sensible” people
when they tell them their
music is way too loud, and
that their ideas are too idealistic,
cute and naive.

I imagine their smiles,
and the glow in their tired eyes, 
after too many cups of coffee,
when they finish the last line
of their first song, satisfied that
they have created something
that cannot be contained,
something that once released
will shake the foundations of
the city and will make the
sleepwalkers open their eyes,
wake up, and be dazzled
by a cooler world.From 

From my new zine book, Punk Rock Soul, available for $5 on Etsy HERE.

Friend Shaped

Title: Friend Shaped
Summary: Whatever Dipper had thought that summoning spell would result in, that wasn’t it.
Characters: Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Bill Cipher
Rating: K

A/N: this one is for  @skypher-drabbles - the request was Liam intreracting with the Pines kids (and being happy). This scenario was fun to come up with. Hope you like it and thanks again for your charity donation!
(This is pretty much based on Flat Dreams and won’t make much sense if you haven’t read it.)

***

To be completely, a hundred percent, absolutely honest, Dipper hadn’t thought that whole summoning thing could actually work.

He had sort of hoped it would, of course, or at least that something would happen so that he wouldn’t look like a complete idiot. He had also fervently hoped that, should it work - unlikely but not impossible, because he firmly believed nothing was - he would wind up summoning something that was… not too dangerous. Like maybe a pixie, or a fairy, or a leprechaun, or a gremlin they could put in a cage - just possibly not a demon. Please, anything but a demon.

He really didn’t want to have to tell his parents he had summoned Beelzebub or Lucifer or something in the living room while they were out for dinner. They’d ground him for life and then a little past that.

Keep reading

fics by agetwellcard

okay so here is a post of all the fics that i’ve posted and don’t hate also the ryden stuff is older so it’s a little rough so be easy on me

ryden

the key of victory, e, 64k words

(music game show au) Don’t miss the new season of The Key of Victory, a show that kicks off music careers for the winners. Every season we bring five popular musicians and then mix them with fifteen hopeful teenagers in one house. Every week they will compete in various competitions to see who is most ready to be a professional musician, all with the guidance of our celebrities. It’s fifteen weeks of action that keep the cameras rolling 24/7. Make sure to tune in!

car crash symphony, g, 3k words

(TiMER au) When Ryan was in eighth grade he went to get his own timer, to find out when he would meet his soul mate. He just didn’t know how much would change before it would actually go off.

choking on smoke, e, 13k words

(coming out fic) He tries not to think of that thing that happened a few weeks ago. The thing that made his whole chest fill with something that had never been there before. The thing that had single-handedly set his whole life on fire. To be fair, though, his life had always been engulfed in flames he had just chosen to ignore it.

pride, g, 3k words

Brendon thinks it’s fair that he didn’t want to tell his parents that he was going to a gay-straight alliance meeting after school.

stucky

this place is a shelter, g, 4k words

Living with Bucky reminds Steve of the way it feels to jump to action, natural and exhilarating and almost like it was something he was always meant to do.

Aka, the one where there is no one after them so Steve and Bucky live together in the apartment in Bucharest.

they say love is a virtue, m, 22k words

“I have a bet,” Tony announces to the room. He stands up, repeating himself a few times so that everyone is forced to stop the game and look up at him. He looks straight into Bucky’s eyes when he goes, “I bet you fifty dollars that you and Steve can’t spend a whole week pretend married without realizing that you’re both in love with each other.”

the cut of a knife, t, 33k words

The blond-haired man is breathing heavily over him now, hand steady as he presses the blade warningly into his neck.

In Russian, he goes, “Your handler is dead,” and then, “You’re free.”

(AU in which Bucky and Steve both fall off the train and are taken in by HYDRA. It’s not until many years later that they are rescued by SHIELD, and by then it might be too late.)

playing pretend, g, 6k words

“You know, I didn’t even get to go to your funeral,” Steve tells him, his hand now flat against Bucky’s chest. He can feel his heartbeat thumping away.

“I’m dead?” Bucky asks, a calmness to his voice.

Steve feels his pulse under his palm and nods. “You’re dead. I’ve been to your gravestone.”

Steve moves into his new apartment in Brooklyn after coming out of the ice, and keeps having dreams that Bucky is there with him. He thinks maybe it’s a dream or a hallucination, and he doesn’t know that Bucky is really alive.

the curves of your lips rewrite history, e, 17k words

After Steve’s wedding, Bucky kisses Steve and everything changes.

(AU in which Steve and Bucky survive the war. Steve marries Peggy, and Bucky has to deal with his feelings for Steve.)

a soft blur, e, 28k words

After recovering from his time in the army, Bucky is a successful photographer who is trying to forget his past. Two weeks after Steve’s return, he accidentally spills his champagne on Bucky at a charity event. It brings them together at a time when the two of them need each other the most.

clexa

ai tombom ste yun, g, 1k words

“Lexa,” Clarke huffs, sitting up in bed. “Come on, what does it mean?”

(AKA Clarke learning Trigedasleng fic)

bellarke

you’re not alone in this, g, 12k words

Bellamy follows Clarke after she leaves because it’s the only reasonable thing to do.

patrochilles

because you’re the reason, g, 2k

moments between achilles and patroclus.
a morning. a broken arm. a lazy afternoon. happiness in troy.

Meeting Maggie's Mom

I’m sorry this is so long, I just really love Maggie Sawyer and I want her to be happy. So this is a continuation of this fic https://sanversinsane.tumblr.com/post/159541739738/meeting-maggies-parents ps. I wrote this before I knew Alex couldn’t cook. ENJOY.

Maggie busted through the door of her apartment like a bull in a China shop. The momentum of the door swinging open, caused her to lurch forward and bump into a side table, knocking over a vase of flowers, and shattering glass on the floor.

“Shit!” She groan as the door closed behind her. She began to mumbled to herself when she heard the voice of the only woman in the world who could make her day better, Alex.

“Babe?”

Maggie looked up at her as she walked out from the kitchen to where maggie was crouched down. “Oh Jesus, thank God you’re here.” Maggie sighed.

“Of course, I told you I was taking a half day today. I’ve been here since 3.” Alex crouched down and began helping Maggie pick up the larger pieces of glass. “Rough day?” Maggie huffed and that was Alex’s answer. “Does it have anything to do with your mom coming over for dinner tonight?” Alex asked.

Maggie stood and threw the large bits of glass in the garbage. “I don’t know Alex….is this a mistake? I mean after everything she’s done to me, after the whole…ordeal, of last night, to invite her back here?”

Alex stood and grabbed her pacing girlfriend by the shoulders. “Babe.” She smiled as they locked eyes. “Breath.” She could see her chest rise and fall with a deep breath. “You’re fine okay. Tonight is going to be good for you I promise. You’ll either get the closure you deserve, or you’ll start a new relationship with your mother, either outcome is a win for you.”

Keep reading

All Of Me Part 5

Taeyang x reader

Genre: Angst, romance

Au: High school!au

Words: 2345

Chapter: 5 / 10

Author/admin: Zoie

Beta: HO

{ previous }

Request:

fatimaloveskpop said to kpop-reads:Heyyyyy! Can you write an SF9 Taeyang fic based on the song All of Me by John Legend? I’m so sorry my request is pretty lame​ but you’re one of my favorite writers on tumblr so it’d be great if you could write this.❤❤❤❤❤

Author’s note: I’m a mess for taeyang and All of me by john legend. It puts me in my feels so hard and i cant help but write angsty shit in my feels so SORRY IF YOU DIDN’T WANT ANGST BUT IT GONNA HAPPEN.

Beta’s note: I had a feeling that there would be more than five chapters…

Summary:
“I hate you, but fucking love you at the same damn time. You’re making me go insane.”

Keep reading