aruna-runa - Tumblr blog

[aruna-runa]

I know your ask box is probably full, so I totally get it if you don't get to this anytime soon, but I need some help.

I'm a sixteen year old aspiring writer with ADHD and anxiety. My writing patterns are horrible. I go months without writing then spit out a hundred pages. I've been writing since I was eight and I've never finished a story longer than a few thousand words because I physically cannot force myself to write in order, though I can eventually fill in the gaps (if I'm given a few months).

I'm trying my best, but it feels like my best isn't good enough for the world. Do you (or any other successful writers you know) have similar problems? Or is this something you overcome with time? Basically wondering if there's hope of me being successful despite these traits. Thanks!

You're sixteen. The reason why the world isn't filled with successful sixteen year old novelists is we were all (or most of us) trying to figure out how to do the writing thing in bursts and spurts and with dozens of beginnings and not a lot of endings, and we have some characters over here and some story over there and we can't work out how to make them align and work together. And so on and so forth.

You are not a failure if you haven't published a Hugo-award winning trilogy by the time you're twenty. You're an egg that hasn't even finished hatching.

Write. Read everything you can. Write more. Finish some short stories. Read more. Write more. Experience some life. Finish longer things. You'll get there. It's not a race. It's a way to learn.

[aruna-runa]

Every single one of the 13,000+ children murdered by Israel was robbed of their futures

[aruna-runa]

random things that i wrote during a sad nap #1

I am being held down by the weight of my own grief. I will rot in my bed, believing that my absence will help the sun shine. I will turn to a mesh of mold that is watered by my tears before I will ever think that someone would cherish what I am. 

When the cockroaches and termites feast on my flesh, I will be reduced to bone. Moss will grow on my skeleton and a grove of flowers will blossom underneath my remains, little critters reside in my rib cages and only then will I be something beautiful.

Is loving such a complicated process like this? Do I have to deconstruct myself just to be seen as something lovely? Must I really be eaten to the bones to be useful? I wish I could tell myself no, no you don’t need to be ruined to be seen.

[aruna-runa]

every time someone asks me what my type is I always go "Oh personality, we just need to click you know?"

I'm lying.

In reality I want a masculine yet feminine woman who can and will beat anyone up, except for me. I want her to treat me like the most precious thing in her world, I dont care about the sex, give me the aftercare. Make me breakfast in bed, kiss me good morning, make my morning coffee just the way I like it before going out and beating people up for a living.

[aruna-runa]

Meanwhile, at Master Eiji’s forge…

This is so out of character but it refused to leave my head.

[aruna-runa]

Anyone who reblogs this post will have their user written on a poster saying "We Stand With Palestine" that I hope to put up somewhere in the village I live in, or the town that the village is next to.

[aruna-runa]

sometimes i want to write smut but like artistic smut, like its sex but its not sexual its more vulnerable and intimate then horny vibes. i want it to be giving those naked greek statues of women who are breathtakingly beautiful, so beautiful to the fact that the only thing you can focus on is how perfect they are. like the only thing that matters is the other person, and its a miracle for them to be in your bed and in your arms, all for the sake of seeing you laid bare before them. and like instead of fucking for the sake of fucking, you do it because you need this person for you, like the only person you'd rather have in your bed is this other person. like to me sex isnt graphic or sinful its more loving and pure in a way

i need to go to sleep