๐๐๐ฒ๐๐ ๐ฐ๐โ๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ฌ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ก ๐จ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ซ ๐๐ ๐๐ข๐ง ๐จ๐ง๐ ๐๐๐ฒ ๐๐ง๐ ๐ฐ๐โ๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ฌ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฅ๐ ๐๐ญ ๐จ๐ง๐ ๐๐ง๐จ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ซ ๐ซ๐๐ฆ๐๐ฆ๐๐๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ ๐ญ๐ข๐ฆ๐ ๐ญ๐จ๐ ๐๐ญ๐ก๐๐ซ. ๐ ๐ก๐จ๐ฉ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ญ ๐ฐ๐ก๐๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ญ ๐๐๐ฒ ๐๐จ๐ฆ๐๐ฌ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐ฐ๐จ๐งโ๐ญ ๐๐ ๐ ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ซ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐ซ.
excerpts from a book Iโll never write
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Itโs telling my friend I got her a surprise since sheโs sick, and never hearing back when I can drop it off
Itโs asking my group chat if anyone wants to study, and having everyone say no with no plan to see each other in the future
Itโs feeling like Iโm sitting on glass when Iโm in a room with them. Never knowing if I belong there
Itโs fading further and further from how close we used to be, since I donโt see them everyday over coffee beans & old scones
Itโs knowing Iโm not the favorite anymore. Iโm no ones favorite anymore. Iโm just- forgotten.
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She dropped to her knees and with quaking fingers brought her other half to her chest. As she peered into her lovers eyes, wide and empty, her soul splintered. Her scream of agony peirced the silence of that beautiful spring morning, and with nothing left to hold her together, her tears began to fall. She lay for an eternity in agony, cradling her only love to her breast and letting her anguish fill the skies. She would never again hear her laugh, or feel her caress, or see her smile, the world was empty, and it would never again be full.
-Nikola M. La Vallรฉe
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I have a fear of commitment
Itโs not a leave before you get left mentality, but more of a โIโm going to enjoy the time I have before you goโ
I donโt have a โone foot out the doorโ state of mind. Itโs a โI have a suitcase already packed just in case this endsโ way of living.
Love does not scare me, itโs the fear of being the ONLY one in love that keeps me in this box.
You tell me that you arenโt going to leave, that youโre here to stay. God I wish I could tell you how many times that sentence has been tossed my way. So Iโll tell you โokayโ, but Iโve learned from a young age that everyone leaves eventually.
But youโll stay- and Iโll realize that youโre staying. This terrifies me, because it doesnโt fit the narrative that Iโve grown accustomed to. So, naturally, Iโll push you away. Because you being present has made loving you so much easier- which means that you leaving will shred any ounce of hope I have left in me. I am hyper aware of the fact that I am sabotaging the good things that come my way- but itโs what Iโm comfortable with. Maybe the peace of loneliness is worth it. Because I donโt know how to love you without fearing abandonment.
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My sky has gained another star. This one is bright, kind, generous, fierce and accepting. He is everything this world needed more of. Treat him well up there. Iโll be here keeping an eye out for you
-nim
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Daily Writing Challenge
12 Aug 2023
In a world where dreams are broadcasted publicly and can be experienced by others, a professional โdream designerโ becomes famous for crafting the most captivating and thrilling dream experiences.
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There does come a time when you wonder if youโre capable of being loved. You lay on your bed in agony as the little digital numbers on the top part of your screen count up to 59 and reset. Youโll toss and turn and rerun every scenario you can think of. Youโll stare in silence, silence that if you listen hard enough, youโll hear your eyelids open and close. Then you ask yourself that question- โAm I capable of being loved?โ
Thereโs a reason you ask that question. Itโs not because of movies or tv shows or some other superficial thing. Itโs because of the people around you. Youโll see your friends say what you want, do what you want, feel what you want- have what you want. Why does it come so easily for them? Are you broken? Is there some small shitty gear inside of you thatโs too rusty? Too deformed?
Time and time again, youโll see them fall in and out of love. Theyโll fall in love with the idea of love and grow to hate it. All the while you sit and watch like some crow perched on a wire. Waiting for a chance where you can swoop down and grab love with all your might. Just when you think the moment is right, a scarecrow appears. Or maybe it was always there. Maybe it wants to keep whatever itโs guarding all to itself. Maybe itโs because youโre undeserving. Maybe itโs something not meant for you.
There come moments when you may not receive love, but rather you give it. You give and give and give, you view these mundane actions as Hollywood movies come to life. You think youโre writing one of the worlds greatest love stories and your pen is flowing so swiftly across the paper and the ink is marking every last detail and- and something stops it. Some debris gets under the paper which offsets the course of the pen making it look dirty. What happened? Oh. Right. You. You happened. You somehow messed this up and now the ink has been spilled and itโs ruining your writing and the ink is consuming everything and making it all a mess with no real meaning and youโre watching in horror as it all goes to shit. You canโt even give love without messing it up in your own spectacular way.
Maybe youโre just meant to teach others just how much love they can experience. Maybe you nudge them in the right direction, maybe you teach them some life long lesson. You show someone how a person can truly love them, which gives them hope. Hope you havenโt experienced. Youโve never been the kid that had people say โI have a crush on you.โ No oneโs ever gone out of their way for you. No oneโs ever done anything that even comes close to your lesser gestures of love. Youโre justโฆ there.
Eventually all that needs an outlet. And so you seek validation from any and every corner you can think of. Youโll have some good experiences and some horrible experiences. Youโll hear constant remakes about how exotic your skin is and how good you feel. Youโll hear just about anything and everything about your outer layer- โNice hair. I like your legs. You have a nice complexion. You feel good. Youโre hot. Youโre sexy.โ And yea, youโll like it for about 2-3 times total. But then you long for more- yearn for more. You want someone to say โyou have nice eyes. I like that when you smile your ears fly back. I think itโs cool that youโre into this. I like how you make me laugh. I like how your overly sentimental about your cameras and the pictures and videos you take and the way you capture people in the moment.โ
But that day doesnโt come. After countless attempts of putting yourself out there and going through so many talking stages and awkward situations, all you have left to show for all that is a broken, unlovable, deformed, overly optimistic heart.
After all Iโve endured, and I canโt even say the proper nouns or pronouns. โYouโ and โIโ become one of the same when avoidance is your solution. I canโt admit when itโs me and I project onto others. The โyouโ is me and the โIโ is you. This constant merry go round of shit covered horses thatโs in flames just keeps on going and going. I hope that one day someone asks me to ride a different ride that makes me get off of this malicious contraption.
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dear matthew, must you rhyme to write poetry?
my best friend was matthew.
the problem is that i didn't know it.
i told him how i loved him
but i didn't really show it.
he got me in a lot of trouble.
cause we would hug in the hallway.
then one day he stopped.
i didnt even get a say.
he used to steal my juice.
i would snatch it right back.
i dont know why hed do it.
but he was starting to crack.
ill let you have my juice.
please come home.
we can hug and let loose.
id do anything for you.
dear mathew i must ask, must you be here for me to love you?
must i rhyme to write poetry?
- jessi
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I want a movie scene or something where someone walks into a garage that has the typical tools and bikini model calendar and vintage women pictures and beer cans and they're ready to address some beefy misogynistic man and instead in walks a redneck lesbian with black and red hair
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just stop talking. be quiet. shut up. no one even caresโฆ
it seems like silence has become my only choice for language. forced upon me. against my will. yet, still here i am with my mouth stitched shut, threaded by the echoes of their commands. my hands tied behind my back, twisting to try to reach freedom, just so i can desperately attempt to rip the stitches away from my already bloody mouth, ๏ฟผ mutilated from their fists re-enforcing my silence.
- the truth i havenโt found the strength to speak
s.x.j.
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๐๐ก๐ฒ ๐๐จ ๐ฉ๐๐จ๐ฉ๐ฅ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ซ๐จ๐ฐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ฐ๐จ๐ซ๐ โ๐๐ฅ๐ฆ๐จ๐ฌ๐ญโ ๐ฌ๐จ ๐๐๐ซ๐๐ฅ๐๐ฌ๐ฌ๐ฅ๐ฒ ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐? ๐๐ญโ๐ฌ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐๐ก ๐ ๐๐ข๐ ๐ฐ๐จ๐ซ๐ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฆ๐; ๐๐ฅ๐ฆ๐จ๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ก๐จ๐ฆ๐, ๐๐ฅ๐ฆ๐จ๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ ๐จ๐จ๐ ๐๐ง๐จ๐ฎ๐ ๐ก, ๐๐ฅ๐ฆ๐จ๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ก๐๐ฉ๐ฉ๐ฒ, ๐๐ฅ๐ฆ๐จ๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ฏ๐ข๐ฏ๐๐ ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐ฅ๐ฆ๐จ๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ฆ๐๐๐ ๐ข๐ญ. ๐๐ฅ๐ฆ๐จ๐ฌ๐ญ, ๐ฌ๐จ ๐๐ฅ๐จ๐ฌ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ง๐๐ฏ๐๐ซ ๐๐จ๐ฆ๐ฉ๐ฅ๐๐ญ๐๐ฅ๐ฒ.
excerpts from a book Iโll never write
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The sun shone bright, rays of happiness falling over my face. I squinted, feeling the light obstruct my eyes. Opening my eyes, I turned towards her. Dust flickered around her, making it seem like stars shone around her. Eyelashes fluttering she woke, gently smiling at me.
โGood morning baby,โ she murmured.
โGood morning,โ I whispered back, enticed by her beauty.
She turned fully, facing me. After studying me for a few minutes she spoke. โWhatโre you thinking about?โ
โYou.โ I said, without missing a beat. Her cheeks flushed and she covered her face with the blanket.
I pulled the thick blanket away from the face, admiring the way her cheeks reddened. โDonโt hide that blush from me,โ I said. โItโs swells my heart knowing that I caused it.โ
โShh,โ she shook her head.
โWhat โShhโ you occupy my thoughts all the time. So much so that youโve never left it since I saw youโ I chuckled.
โStopโ she whined, dragging out the word like a kid.
โI always say the truth, Iโm a really straightforward person you see,โ I shrugged.
โOh please,โ she snorted. โI know that better than anyone,โ
โIs that so?โ
โObviously! Or did you forget about how you asked me out?โ
โMeh, remind me,โ I smirked, seeing the corner of her lips lift in annoyance.
โYou literally asked me out while we were having a conversation about burritos.โ She exasperated.
โI donโt remember,โ I pursed my lip, holding my laughter.
Iโd asked her out in the most ungentlemanly way possible. While having a conversation about burritos and if prawn belongs to it or not, I simply asked her on a date. She choked on the burrito, while I laughed.
โYou had the nerve to laugh at me after pulling such a trick!โ
โI didnโt know I had that much of an effect on you,โ
โPlease, Iโm so romantically love deprived that even the smallest of compliments makes me choke. Whatโd you expect when youโd asked me out of the blue like that??โ She furrowed her eyebrows.
โYou donโt know that you have that kinda an effect on me too,โ I whispered.
The cheeriness in the air lowered and a more intimate atmosphere surrounded us.
โYouโre kidding,โ she deadpanned. โYouโre like the least non-confident person Iโve met.
โOh you donโt know baby, the way my hands trembled and my heart raced and how tiny drops of sweat formed on my forehead and my goodness did I mention the heart racing?โ
She chucked. โYes, yes you didโ
I sighed, running my hands down her arm. โI love you,โ I murmured
โI love you more,โ
โI love you most.โ
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justified
I thought, โIโm going to change. Not for him. NOT for him. Not for a hollow, egotistical man who only knows selfishness and powerlust. For me. For a woman who deserves to feel love happier than this. I will not continue to drown in his wrongdoings towards me.โย
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I havenโt seen my natural nails since I was raped.
No one seemed to mention to me that acrylic nails need a one-week break every six months to stay functional. I figured this out after my two-year old refilled a thousand times nails started breaking more then the polar ice caps. I went to the nail salon to slap on another layer, but the nail tech stopped me. For an hour I sat with a heater melting off my armor. My frailty should only be a personality pitch I throw at new companions. One time limited deal: loyalty as you slash my throat, kindness as you betray me, & a rare prettiest to enhance others perception of youโre beauty. I apologize if Iโve become a receptor of bitterness; Youโd never recognize me in real life, sweet as honey ever could be.
k.j.s.
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Travel blues are real, they are strong and they make me feel more lost than I was before I left
- nim
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