islaelizabethwilliams

[islaelizabethwilliams]

"Well... I—

Listen. I've never done this before. And honestly, now that I'm standing here I realise that this has not been thought through at all. But that's okay.

The thing is, it's a pretty fucked up world we live in; the little goodness that we do have, we have to hold onto. And I would rather live with rejection than the regret of not trying at all.

What I'm trying to say by this long-ass monologue is that I think you're awesome. I really like you. I just thought you should know that."

- I. E. Williams

(excerpt from a still nameless love story)

[islaelizabethwilliams]

And it might not be love, but it's not not love, either.

- I. E. Williams

[islaelizabethwilliams]

Your soul, my love; that's poetry in it's own right.

- I. E. Williams

[islaelizabethwilliams]

Here's your daily reminder to say Fuck You™ to soulless minimalism.

The world is too dark and bland as it is these days.

Exist in colour. 💜

[islaelizabethwilliams]

Isn't writing romantic? You take pieces of yourself and others to Frankenstein into a character who will live longer than any of you. They will be immortalized because of your hand, your words, and your world, and even if readers 20 years from now don't understand, they will read the story and find themselves in the lines.

[islaelizabethwilliams]

All my life I've been taught that when life knocks you down, you're supposed to come back up and go on. Fight on. So I did. I tried and I fought for myself and kept fighting. And on and on the battle went. Shouldn't it be done by now? Isn't it finally time to rest? Do I not deserve that?

- I. E. Williams

[islaelizabethwilliams]

And sometimes, both are combined in glorious chaos.

there are two types of writers.

“this plot has been in my head for 10 years and finally it’s perfect.”

“what if frogs had a secret government?”

[islaelizabethwilliams]

you know you’re a writer when…

you spend 30 minutes choosing the perfect synonym for “said” only to change it back to “said.”

you google “how long does it take to bleed out” at 3 a.m. and now the FBI is probably watching you.

you write one sentence, stare at it, rewrite it 14 times, and somehow end up back at the original version.

“this scene is so important” but you have no idea what the scene actually is or why it’s important.

you come up with the best story ideas… in the shower… with no way to write them down.

your characters feel like real people but also you’re like “who are these guys and what do they want from me?”

your brain says “start writing!” but instead you reorganize your desk, reread your notes, and spend two hours naming a side character who shows up once.

you’ve cried over your WIP exactly 67 times and will do it again because the pain is the point.

you reread something you wrote and think, “wow, did i peak as a writer three months ago?”

every writing session begins with the sacred ritual of scrolling social media, opening unnecessary tabs, and procrastinating until panic sets in.

you have no idea how long a chapter should be, so you just… vibe.

you can’t watch tv or movies without mentally critiquing the plot, dialogue, and pacing.

your writing playlist is 98% vibes, 2% songs you’ll actually listen to while writing.

you keep a “murder notebook” but swear it’s not suspicious because it’s for your novel (probably).

the phrase “just one more draft” is your eternal mantra, even though you’ve rewritten this thing more times than you can count.

[islaelizabethwilliams]

i sometimes think that all my ailments could be cured by a single gentle touch. the blood on my teeth begins to taste like all the times i bit into a good thing that got ripped away from my lips. the grief might end some day, but the putrid scent of a life almost lived will continue to pour from my pores.

i’m asked, how do you love? like a fist. like a knife. i could love you violently, if you let me. if i let myself.

the girl i lived with sophomore year knows the creases of my palms like her own name. i was ripped away from the only place that loved my rotten core, despite the ragged edges of my heels. i buy her flowers & strawberries. there is no one else i know how to love this softly. the earth is still warm from you; my anger is quieter & i scream so scarcely now. the agony is exquisite, i don’t know how to believe that i can be loved. day after day, after terrible night. i can only store so much ugliness in my poor choice of words. give me hate, god. i can carry it like i carry my bones. but keep the love a safe distance away from my ruinous hands. every berry i’ve sunk my teeth into turned sour.

[islaelizabethwilliams]

Farewell

As I'm writing this, it's nearing midnight on December 31st 2024. I sat down to do- this because I needed a reason not to fall asleep just yet and also because I have so many things to reflect on and leave behind before going into this new year ahead.

Joy, disaster, moments of utmost uncertainty and pure happiness alike, in memories made to last a lifetime.

2024 was... Really something.

It was the year I had my 20th birthday with the best people ever. The year of my wonderful senior prom. The year I got rejected from college, twice, and lost all hope, but then found it in myself again. The year I got my first job.

2024 was the year I travelled and laughed, soaked up sunlight and swam in warm waters. The year I watched everyone around me go on with their lives and felt stuck in a place I never chose, with no clue what to do next. It was the year i got to know myself in ways I never thought I would and discovered I'm capable of so much more than was ever offered to me.

Trial and error, ups and downs, memories and lessons altogether. It could've gone better. It went as it did for a reason.

As I go forward into this year, I will gladly take everything 2024 left to me, yet I can't help hoping for something a bit better. That's just the way of life, right? Hope.

Someone once told me hope is the one thing that outlasts life itself. Everything dies, humans die, but hope? It never leaves. It's always there, in a small spark or a fire blazing bright.

So, here's to a good 2025. To new days, new chances to accomplish the same dreams. To new people. New places. New friends, and loves and hobbies. New happy moments and glimmers.

To living for the hope of it all. To new beginnings.

I. E. Williams

[islaelizabethwilliams]

And then, along the road somewhere... The pain gets used to. It becomes invisible but doesn't disappear. It just travels with you, steadily along until you slowly realise you can't remember a time when it wasn't there.

- I. E. Williams

[islaelizabethwilliams]

always the writer - a journal excerpt

Sunday, September 29th, 2024.

I'm starting this just because I have an inexplicable urge to write. To put pen to paper and keep it moving, to start and let it flow as easily as it is to think.

Writing has quite literally saved my life. In more ways than I can count. It has saved my physical wellbeing, as well as the better portion of my sanity (or lack thereof, because let's be honest, I'm a writer. We're all a little insane by default.)

I long to get lost in the written word, to escape to worlds still unknown; those only my imagination can conjure up. I long to breathe life into characters who carry little pieces of my soul within theirs, and heal them so I could heal.

Every issue, every problem I have always seems to shrink the more I write about it, and for that I'm eternally grateful.

"Always the writer, never the poem," they say.

Being "the writer" is the best thing that happened to me. It's been my way of staying sane in the craziness of today's selfish world. No matter how hard or inescapable it seems in the moment, the written word always saves me. In the end, it's all I've got.

I. E. Williams

[islaelizabethwilliams]

for the first time - a journal excerpt

Today is August 24th, 2024.

This is my first actual entry in around two years. I'm 20 years old; it sounds ridiculous still, but I'm not a highschool student anymore. No more workloads for me. Well, at least until October, when college rolls around. I realised it's been a while since I put my actual thoughts to paper. I've been hiding away behind written musings of characters instead of my own self for so long. Escapism is kind of my forte, if you couldn't tell already. So much stuff has happened since I last wrote; some of it the best memories of my life. Others not so much. I've gained and lost friends, travelled, danced, loved. Still do. Sometimes it's hard to see the good things you've got when something bad happens. Just because I'm used to looking for silver linings doesn't mean the rest of it hurts any less. So, I've allowed myself to feel all of it; the pain, the happiness and everything in-between.

I feel like I'm only now getting to know this new person I can feel myself becoming, and damn, does it feel good. I'm done wallowing in the past and resenting those who wronged me. It took me a long time to accept myself for who I am, and I'm not about to go and ruin all of my progress over something as trivial as a wrong choice or a missed chance. Another, new chance is right there on the horizon. And this time I'm sure I can take it.

I'm writing this at the start of a new chapter in my life, a new opportunity to show the world exactly who I am; a person who finally knows how to love herself truly, for the first time.

Isla Elizabeth Williams

[islaelizabethwilliams]

Doesn't it feel powerful; knowing that the human imagination can make or break worlds at will?

- I. E. Williams

[islaelizabethwilliams]

The Aching in My Bones

Tonight, I seethe with envy, imagining someone beside you exchanging words among the stars. I covet the hugs you have shared with people today.

I curl under disdain as I imagine you narrowly avoiding my written cries.

A voice whispers insinuations that you have forgotten me - that your memory of me has been erased like a tide washing away a drawing in the sand.

My stomach contorts at the thought of you and I parting ways, each time we sit with our eyes locked, uttering words of comfort and laughter, I would swear nothing could ever go wrong. I often fantasize of us sitting across one another at a café, with our respective cups of coffee, laughing as the sun leaks in through all hours of the day.

The tie between your soul and mine could not be severed by any divine power, nor by the universe itself. Your image sits in the corner of my mind, consistently whispering sweet nothings when doubt attempts to drown me, or my thoughts strive to convince the girl in the mirror she's unworthy.

You are there and your impact will forever be etched in the palm of my hand - one which you touched while reassuring me I shall succeed, no matter what I do. Your words of encouragement are engraved in my back, from each hug you have given me. And your laughter will sit in my heart til I hear it again, reminding me of each desperate moment I clung to as time stole another second.

My nights will remain sleepless until we may meet again, for the love you have draped over my shoulders shall never dissipate.

[islaelizabethwilliams]

I‘m a writer.

I don‘t think that I‘m overflowing with wisdom like a rich fountain with water.

I feel more like a miner searching relentlessly the cave of words of his language, trying to find somewhere a rough alloy of stone and valuable ore; the draft of stories and quotes that I ultimately write down and express.

However, they all need to be cleaned and polished first so they can shine like the minerals they are.

[islaelizabethwilliams]

Humanity died the day we started asking "what's in it for me?"

- I. E. Williams