"You don’t start out writing good stuff. You start out writing crap and thinking it’s good stuff, and then gradually you get better at it. That’s why I say one of the most valuable traits is persistence.” ramblings and other stories...
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We looked inside some of the posts by iwritethestuff and here's what we found interesting.
Average Info
Notes Per Post
122K
Likes Per Post
67K
Reblog Per Post
54K
Reply Per Post
58
Time Between Posts
3 months
Number of Posts By Type
Text
13
Photo
4
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A Cold Pleasure
The alley was dark but the moonlight caught her face. She stood there, over him, her face stained with blood and etched with the most beautiful smile. The coldness of her eyes took on a sparkle as she relished in what she’d done.
The thrill of her actions wrapped around her and warmed her from the inside whilst the cold pleasure of her secret, of her crime, slithered up her spine and chilled her bones.
Her mind eased, her muscles relaxed, her smiled widened. Her eyes, unblinking, looked down at him. She used her foot to move his head to the side and watched as it lolled back to center. She did it once more, just to be sure.
She felt nothing but joy, nothing but freedom, all encompassing love as she looked on down the dark alley. She should have felt shocked, panicked or even remorseful over what she’d done.
But that hadn’t happened.
She was filled to the brim with a happiness she’d never experienced before.
And so, she knew then that she’d done the right thing, because if it was truly bad, why did she feel SO damn good?
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Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Trapeze: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin, 1947-1955
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A Genuine Decision
She sat her down, she knew that it was the right thing to do.
She started on the words she’d rehearsed, keeping the tone and cadence just right
Hoping that would be enough
It won’t be, she knows it.
The first crack starts to show, she slips
Her tone gets wobbly
Her face cracking, she struggles to get it out before it’s too late
Before the cracks in her face become too much to bear
(Before it all falls apart, before she is revealed and laid bare for her to see, she knows that would be wrong, hurtful, selfish)
She finishes, not in the way she rehearsed but she manages to get it all out.
Briefly proud, she looks up at her.
Her face; a mask as well
A much better one, always has been.
Conceals all from her.
She gets up and walks away
Without a word, the door slams shut
She did it, it worked. It’s out in the open
everyone is free and clear.
Brief elation turns to the first sob in mere moments.
It hits her right away; hard.
Always has to be in control, always has to be in control.
and then suddenly she was out of it
sobbing freely into her hands
Sinking to her knees
Wondering if freedom had ever felt this terrible.
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I Don’t Know
I've been trying to find the words to say this
But the thoughts aren't finding where my brain is
Like they're close enough to tease my heart with
So near even you'd think they can't miss
Yet all I'm typing are things that aren't hitting
Any of the feelings I wish could be written
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21 Questions
I remember us playing 21 questions I don’t remember much else.. I think I think I remember the feeling of him pressed against me. I remember his friend, my friend, them In the doorway His friend whispered as they watched “See, she likes it, don’t you want it too? Don’t you hear her? I could do that for you” I remember I was drunk I remember being told afterwards “OMG GIRL! YOU WERE MOANING SO LOUD!” But I remember fishing the tampon from inside me that night I remember having almost my whole fist inside me Trying so HARD to find it ...It had been pushed so far. Because I remember telling her “I’m NOT doing anything tonight, I’m on my period, I don’t even wanna be out” I remember my only witness Telling me I was wrong. And, thus Instantly it wasn’t what I remembered it to be. It wasn’t anything, But regret. Deep, Deep, regret. But I know I remember we were playing 21 questions. My favourite colour was blue, and his shirt was off. My favourite number was 12, and he’d unzipped my pants. My favourite animal was Him Inside me.
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...
And I still forget the ending
To a book I've read three times
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I Think
If I wait until you feel what I feel
My wounds might be
Beyond what time will heal
Your heart's made up
I'm too fucked up
Dead out of dumb luck
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ig: avocadreamin | more here
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Untitled
When you one day find yourself here
Eyes red and burning from your tears
At least you'll know you're feeling something
Cause the drops will stain what you write
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Evening For Another Night
The sun’s going down
Nothing but clouds in the sky
Soaked in tears and rain
Let’s save this for another day
Since that time outside
To all my texts
You haven’t replied
Unsure what’s next for us
It was supposed to be
An evening for another night
Never knew that was goodbye
Had I known you’d cut our ties
Maybe that night
I would have tried
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