She was young and she didn't know what she wanted. She dreamed of writing and reading and feeling accomplished and confident. Instead of this emptiness. This sickness. BDSM and sexual-induced cravings that made her feel alien in a world where being human was beautiful. She wanted to feel successful. She wanted her father to look at her like she actually was capable of prospects, whether those prospects consist of future mates, career opportunities...even diet choices and (health) lifestyle. The root of the problem was she was stuck in this never-ending cycle of wake up, feel ashamed, not knowing what to tell people when they asked about her goals and aspirations. The inbred response was "English". I want to write. I want to create. I want that to be my thing. But what if that wasn't even her calling? What if, in fact, she was absolute SHIT at writing? What if she hadn't read more than 2 books in the past two years, not including the FSOG series? It felt fake. It felt like she was striving towards everything and nothing all at once, with zero payback rate. What does a person do with that? Cower in their fear and shyness and just deal.?
most of the time when i say sorry, it is not because i regret what i have said or done or that i feel sorry for you, most of the time i say sorry and push my pride a side because i value our relationship more than winning petty arguments, if i say sorry to you really im saying i cant let you go just yet and when they dont accept the apology, theyre saying i do not need you or want you in my life. then they lose you, they lose the person who was willing to say sorry, to forget their pride and tell you they want you with the simple words im sorry, whereas you lost someone who didnt want you. Just say sorry, trust me its worth it
hurtling down the tenebrous winding staircase, i couldnt get my head around Ashs callous lack of remorse for what he had done. i had been cajoled into attending a clandestine assembly of authors and now im practically throwing myself down the stone stairs desperatley thinking of ways to elude my pursuer and husband also known as ash. slipping on the scarlet liquid which was pouring from the hall, i felt a sense of releif as my body plummets down the stairs i am freed from the fear, the confusion, the heartbreak, the agony which my life had become
The crackling radio blasted green day through the kitchen as the light of the morning sun crept through the window spilling onto the checkered floor tiles. Dragging herself out the door, a tired mother of 3, sat on a bench in her garden as she watched her two sons squabble over whose football was best. Her only daughter was curled up in a den made of old blankets with her curious eyes fixated on the first Harry Potter novel. The den had fairy lights woven beween the wooden poles which kept it's structure. Her mum walked over the dewy grass with bare feet and as she saw her daughter, her eyes filled with love and she whispered good morning.
i change myself and lie, i bite my tongue and only say what they want me to say to fit the standards i have assumed are normal and i cant blame society because im a part of society, the thing is im losing my real self, its odd i dont know who i am anymore, i cant tell the difference between a the truth and the lies, im becoming just another robotic human. sometimes i look back to when i was young and i catch glimpses of myself but that person is buried deep down underneath insecurities and regret. if i could go back and start again maybe i could stay true to myself or at least keep my soul because it is so very lost and i miss it terribly