writing-therapist

[writing-therapist]

nanami’s side of the bed wouldn’t even be called nanami’s anymore. you sleep there nearly every day, blaming it on how the pillows smell of him.

nanami’s clothes aren’t his anymore, you're sleeping in his shorts and t-shirt tonight. you wore his shirt yesterday, and took his ties for some clothes experiments last week.

nanami’s sacred pens are no longer his own, he finds them on the table after you tried to scribble up something and forgot to put them back.

nanami’s mugs are now shared, always in the dishwasher even when he doesn’t recall using them at all. 

nanami’s thoughts don’t belong just to him anymore. you’d bug him about it all day if he doesn’t share what he’s thinking — so he, with an exasperated sigh, tells you what’s on his mind.

nanami’s salary doesn’t go straight to his savings account like it used to, instead taking a portion of it to spend on you. ‘you’ means gifts, flowers, dates, trips, trinkets, and so on.

nanami’s weekends aren’t as quiet as they once were; now they’re chaotic, full of so much of you. 

nanami’s fridge is full nowadays. candy, leftovers, ice cream, cheese, cake, bread, and the list goes on. so many things that don’t go along with his diet fill the once-empty shelves.

nanami doesn’t spend as much time in his study as before you moved in. now old books are left to collect dust, long forgotten in a room that’s never lit. even when he decides to pick one up and read it, it’s the minute that he sees your face the book is tossed away.

nanami’s happiness still comes from days off, but now it’s because those days are spent with you. days when he slept long and ignores the world are long gone, now he gets to sit and focus on you, watching as everything else becomes nothing but background noise.

nanami has always been sure he’s not looking for marriage, at least not right now. but he swears that ring looks so perfect for you. there’s no way he’d miss it. 

nanami stands in front of the bathroom mirror 5 minutes late every day because you’re still figuring out how to fix his tie the right way without any help. he can’t seem to rush you, though — what’s being precisely on time have on your little giggles as you sit on the sink and struggle to finish a task he could have done in under a minute?

nanami has been spending so much time eating as of late, more time than he can afford. while he used to finish a meal in approximately fifteen minutes, now dinners could stretch to two hours. he couldn’t get off the table early when you sit across from him, talking and joking and doing anything that’s not eating. he simply can’t possibly not indulge in the little conversations, appreciating every moment he gets to spend in your presence. nanami’s life wouldn’t even be called his anymore. you’re a storm, invading his life all at once, bringing in your chaos along with you. you’ve infatuated him, you’ve assailed his senses and changed his very being. every time nanami’s eyes align with yours, he prays your presence isn’t a fleeting one. he silently hopes you don’t leave as suddenly as you came, that you plan to stay.

[writing-therapist]

10 or 11 little ducks have been spotted crossing the dash board

[writing-therapist]

i love tumblr because sometimes i get an urge to rb posts about something nobody likes and everyone just politely ignores me. everyone's like oh he's fallen into madness again, he'll be fine later i guess

[writing-therapist]

by kaye donachie

against the mass of night / myself i think shall never know, how far beneath the wave i go / dusk shed by a lamp brightens the tears / clouds are pushing in grey reluctance / motionless forever / song for the last act 

[writing-therapist]

There’s A Princess In A Tower..

[writing-therapist]

A wise old owl sat in an oak. The more he saw, the less he spoke. The less he spoke, the more he heard. Why can't we be like that wise old bird? - Edward Hersey Richards

These are some cheap owl pots I bought online. I’m still thinking of what plant I can put inside it.

If I do have a spirit animal, I’m sure that it isn’t an owl. I’m not that wise and clever. 🥲 I think my spirit animal will be a fish. 🐟

[writing-therapist]

Giveaway Contest: We’re giving away 12 vintage paperback classics featuring Carson McCullers, John Steinbeck, Albert Camus, Kate Chopin, Jack Kerouac, and others! Won’t this collection look lovely on your shelf? :D To win these classics, you must: 1) be following macrolit on Tumblr (yes, we will check. :P), and 2) reblog this post. We will choose a random winner on October 25, at which time we’ll start a new giveaway. And yes, we’ll ship to any country. Easy, right? Good luck! Follow macrolit.books to qualify for our IG giveaway. 📚

[writing-therapist]

one of the best pieces of writing advice i’ve ever gotten:

if a scene isn’t working, change the weather.

it sounds stupid, but seriously, it works. thank u to my screenwriting professor for this wisdom

[writing-therapist]

“I need to stop fantasizing about running away to some other life and start figuring out the one I have.”

— Holly Black

[writing-therapist]

is it even possible? one day i woke up not liking you anymore... or maybe i got too much things that rerouted my mind—i forgot about us.

but tonight, i remember the days when i used to go to school and spent my hours there. it was always been you in my mind. now that we're apart and strangers, how can i not see those places without your trace?

[writing-therapist]

[writing-therapist]

[writing-therapist]

FEEL GOOD - Gorillaz fan art by Gendy mohammad

[writing-therapist]

[writing-therapist]

[writing-therapist]

Art by Aeppol

[writing-therapist]

Clear your mind here