writing and life

I didn’t know I could miss something so much, even if it was never mine to begin with.
—  Excerpt from a book I’ll never write
You live life like you are on the battlefield, always looking over your shoulder for enemies ready to stab you in the back and you don’t realize that all the ugliness, all the misery, and all the pain is in your head. That your demons aren’t real but they’re just empty ghosts who haunt your dreams. That you can be happy for once without fearing that someone will take that away from you. Just leave that shining armor on the side and enjoy the ride, without worrying about the bumps on the road.
—  giulswrites
Seeing us finally talk makes my heart burst of happiness. You’re finally giving me a chance. A chance to be to get to know you, a chance to be friends, a chance to be something more. All it took was a chance. I can’t wait to get to know you.
—  a chance // 9:52am

Kissing you tastes like coffee and breathless lungs
Like sleepless nights and the whiplash young
Different from the other girls
Something more than just ‘a girl’
Lets explore your inner thoughts girl
Beauty like ten-lightyear stars, girl
A 'hold me close and kiss my scars’ girl

As more days
Continue to pass on by
I start to feel
A little less poetic
But a little more healed.
How do I write
Stories of happiness
When all I know is
Darkness and sadness?
I’ve written my pain away
But without this pain of mine
I’ve lost my ink,
My words.
Writing remains
As my source of comfort
But like everybody else,
It’s slowly slipping away from me.
I don’t want to learn
How to live without
These words that have
Allowed me to express so freely.
Please stay with me,
Dear pain of mine.
Please stay with me,
Dear words of mine.

Don’t leave me.

—  I’m not quite sure what to do anymore… // littlemissimaginary

                               “ I think I’m in love with you “

                                                       A very short Zutara drabble

                                             “I’m so in love with you.”

He think she’s been sleeping, but in reality, she’s lied resting a cheek against his chest, an ear tuned to the patter of a heart beat and the cadence of breaths escaping passed lilied lips.

His words are soft, and they fall through a lilted sleep for which lulls her to the brink, but not quite.

                      “I want to spend every day for the rest of my life with you.”

                                                             “I’m so lucky.”

                                                       “You’re so beautiful.”

                                                           “I’m so in love.”

A gentle raking down her spine as she shifts; A hand in her hair, one’s fingers splayed along a hip. She feels a thumb dip between the groove of where her hip meets her rib-cage and rests itself.

Then, a gentle touch of lips to her forehead and a fingertip brushing back curls. “I know you’re awake,” he whispers, and for a moment she doesn’t give herself up. She just lies there, pretending for just that millisecond that she really is asleep so the intimacy isn’t shattered.

Eventually, however, dark lashes flutter against bated breath and the bared skin of his chest and she looks up. It’s dark, but his eyes shine against the moon dusting in through silkened curtains. She feels his chest bristle with a laugh, and she finds herself mimicking the gleam and tilt of his mouth.

“What?” he asks, and finally, she knows she’s brave enough.

“Nothing, I’m just… I love you. I’m in love with you.”

A pause, and it feels as if she waits an eternity for his response. He says nothing at all ,not in the beginning. For a moment, he studies her, allows his eyes to roam over her face before dragging his lips together in a drawn out motion.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you to say that?”

While you were falling in love with her, I was trying so hard to not let my feelings for you became even deeper.
—  Because we were friends and friends should not have feelings for each other. // Excerpt from the book I’ll never write #54
I play with flames and let them kiss my hands until they blush. I fill my stomach with warm butterflies until I cannot walk straight or think of the black hole inside of me. I lay in bed and memorize the constellations on my ceiling as I press a blade against my chest, debating how it would feel against my still heart. Shitty gas station coffee and I are no strangers. The monsters are no longer under the bed, now they lay in my sheets and steal my warmth until it is sunrise and I am as cold as death. The ghosts in my bones are louder than ever as I try and speak, the echos of black holes inside of me are so loud I cannot sleep and what more do I need to say to you to make you understand I am hurting so fucking badly?
—  another love letter to the demons in my flesh
I can see myself.
She’s right there,
Only a few steps away.
I’m trying to reach her,
Trying to hug her in my arms,
Trying to let her know
I love her,
But as I take a step towards her
She takes two steps back.
I want to tell her it’s okay,
I’m ready to finally be her,
Ready to finally be me.
She turns away,
She doesn’t believe me
And it’s because
We both know
I can’t let go of the past.
She whispers to me,
“I’ll be waiting for you.
I’ll be here when you’re ready.
I’m sorry,
But now is not the time.”
—  Will I ever be ready? // littlemissimaginary

Dying doesn’t have to be the moment your heart stops beating and brain stops functioning.
We die a little everytime we feel worthless.

Everytime we look at something we can’t have.

Everytime we remember our biggest regrets.

Everytime we think of losing someone.
Everytime we lose someone.

Sometimes by the time we actually die, we don’t have a lot to live for anymore.

—  A. R
  • me: okay, I have to write, I will write *opens document* nice, okay... let's do this.
  • me: ...
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  • me: *writes* Touka looked at...
  • me: ...
  • me: ...
  • me: *deletes*
  • me: ...
  • me: *closes document* I think I'm gonna play some Skyrim.