frommetoyoublog

[frommetoyoublog]

I made a discord for aspiring writers and lovers of all things literature!! It is 18+, everyone is welcome. Whether you want to share your work, get constructive criticism, get some good book recommendations or just read some good writing and be among like minded people!! Let me know if you want to be able of it!!

[frommetoyoublog]

"The Life of an Uncertain Queer Woman" by Eden Waltz

9/19/2024

The part of myself I never fully understand~

I get in my car. I close the door. I start the car. I want to slam my head repeatedly against the steering wheel. I put my directions to my house on my phone. I dial my friend's number. I pull out of the parking lot. My hands tremble as I grasp the wheel tight. The whole ride home I rant to my friend. It was just a date. It wasn't anything special. It was just a date. I tell myself the whole ride home. It wasn't even a partially bad date. It was just a date, but why do I feel like I want to remove my skin and throw it in the washing machine? I pull into my neighborhood. My sister's boyfriend's car is parked outside my house. I let out a long annoyed sigh. I basically jump out of my car and walk inside. The door is unlocked. I walk to my mom and hug her. A part of me wants to give her and my sister a medal. It would say “I survived a relationship with a man”. Am I a cruel person for thinking that? I sat down at the table with my parents. I tell them every detail of the date. My mom asks “Was he nice?”. I answer “Yes”. “For a first date, It seems pretty good” She tells me. Something shifts in my chest when she says that. I know she's right. He was perfectly nice. If it was a good date then why do I feel like I need prescription anxiety medication. My online friend messages me “How was your date girl?”. I tense up. “I was such a spaz” I replied. The phone rings. I picked it up. I lay out piece by piece for her. She tells me “It was your first date with a guy, it's normal to be nervous. Maybe he just wasn't the guy”. Once again something pings in my chest at those words. What if there isn't “the guy”? But what if there is? I reflect back on a few moments that happened while on the date. I found myself looking at other people, people meaning girls. There was a pretty goth girl who worked in the thrift store. She complimented my brand-new eye shadow that I was so excited to wear for the first time on this date. He didn't notice. And I wouldn't expect him to. He’s a man. Then there was the girl with the long brown skirt and tie-dyed green crop top. She stopped me and told me that I looked beautiful and that she loved my outfit. I found that my stomach fluttered at her words. Both times guilt struck me like lightning strikes metal. I was on a date with a perfectly nice guy but even in the short period of time I found myself more drawn to complete strangers than I felt drawn to him in the whole 3 hours we spent together. Sometimes I find myself idealizing straight relationships, righting it off as not wanting to have to deal with struggles of being a queer woman in a relationship with another woman. But I can never see myself with a man, in my head and heart I know the truth as much as it can be difficult to swallow. Such goes the life of a woman who isn't sure if she’s bisexual or lesbian.

[frommetoyoublog]

“The Dying Summer” by Eden Waltz

5/19/2025

*Writers note I suffer from untreated Crohn's Disease, but I am not dying this is just art. Thank you.*

“The Dying Summer

Sleepless May nights. Endless Doctors appointments. Barely scraping by to pass my college classes. Having to miss months of classes because I physically can’t walk. Getting fired from my minimum wage job slinging smoothie without so much as a courtesy call. More dreadful doctor’s appointments. To no avail. The pain never stops. They never tell me what’s wrong with me.

“You’re sick.” “I’m sick?”

“Oh. I’m sick.”

Congratulations, young lady, you got into the Disney College Program. But hey just kidding you can’t go. I’m sorry to tell you this but you have Crohn’s Disease…Oh. Being bed bound is a cruel form of purgatory. I am already trapped in the prison that is my body but being stuck at home when all I want is to go out with my friends' screws with your psyche. I loathe it. My first relationship. Yay this should be fun. It won’t last a week. With my luck, of course it would. 

“You should think about getting into relationships before you got sick.”

Oh? Okay, that’s nice. Next time I’ll plan getting a life altering disease around your schedule, you absolute dickhead.

Constant and unvarying stress on my body. The pain simply is never ending. Feeling every little stabbing sensation in my colon isn’t a comforting thought that’s over 30% is obliterated. But hey after 9 months you would think we would have plenty of answers and I’d be getting the treatment. The treatment I need. The treatment i fucking deserve. Unfortunately, my fate isn’t so fortunate. Everyday there’s another doctor, another medication, another diagnosis, another test. And you know what I have to say about it

Fuck May. Fuck the heat. Fuck Summer, and Fuck Crohn’s Disease. 

I want my life back. Give me my fucking life back please. 

I will forever despise this god forsaken endless dying summer.”

[frommetoyoublog]

Does anyone want to be poetry/writing friends/pals?? (18+ please)✒️💌