She laughed at the mess she made. Nothing was going to plan, but it was absolutely perfect. After all, life isn’t perfect. We aren’t perfect. The mess sat around her, a chaotic mural around the art she was creating. She’d been tasked with bringing the welcome sign to life for a church weekend. The best weekend in the world, in her humble opinion.

This weekend wasn’t like any other. It was high en...

Even the dead tell stories

Through the flicker of the lights,

The blinds being pulled up at daylight,

They tell their stories through movement,

And occasionally even communication

The dead tell the best stories

Whether it’s tales told at their funerals

Or pieces of their history that’s just resurfacing

Sometimes, it’s the secrets left just between certain people that mean the most

The dead know ...

Words are wasted on those who do not listen. I, for one, would know. It’s countless person after person after person (and repeat again) who did not listen. Did not listen to my boundaries, my feelings, or even my thoughts that plagued my mind with sin. A certain sin that would remove all pain. A sin that would rip me from this world. From my dog, my grandparents, Hell, even the brother who wouldn’...

(highkey a totally different route from the prompt.. can u tell i didnt read it very thoroughly??)

Maybe it’s my fate, that I end all relationships this way

Or, possibly the hurt falls on me because i no longer wanted to feel the awfulness they inflicted

It could be that I just take all the abuse, I absorb it, letting it rest in the hollows of my heart

It’s likely I dig the hole deeper, letti...

Gratitude.

What a strange word.

What is there to be grateful for in such a harsh, biting world?

Maybe it’s the temporary friendships that bring the temporary happiness.

Maybe it’s the Sunday morning church services.

Maybe it’s remembering times of happy families laughing in firelight.

Today, I choose to be grateful for a number of things God’s doing for me.

The way He’s given me a comforting dog...

(this is abt friendship breakups)

Y’know, sometimes i womder what made her do it. Why she cut me off. Maybe i wasn’t good enough, maybe i wasn’t enough of a people pleaser. There might’ve been signs. I was too busy wrapped up in myself to notice, though. I was too busy posting immature comments on the internet while she was silently battling her will to live and love. I was too available, too uno...

(IM BACK YALL!! HAD SOME TRAUMA SO NOW ITS TIME TO WRITE ABT IT)

I got a blast from the past today

It was you, of course, all my memories are of you

A waitress, tattooed with a symbol from a movie you cherished so deeply

It brought me back

Back to you, our friendship, and now the crushed ruins of it all

The waitress, who unknowingly sparked a flurry of thoughts of you in my head

It wasn’t her...

Memories were something of a scare factor

A concept we used to terrify children into obedience

Memories were so warped, they became obsolete

Memories were lesser used for remembrance and instead used for blackmail

People no longer valued memories

They weren’t just parts of history, they were in valued fragments of one’s life

Humans stopped bothering with remembering because it caused more pain ...

(this writing is basically a diary entry <3)

I stared off into the abyss, or more so the sticky floor of this house party. My ability to socialize drained away hours ago, so I’m alone again.

It seems that people only want me when I’m functioning correctly. Like a product. Like a toy. People never want the imperfect versions of each other, even though we all have them. Did I mention I get extrem...

Birthdays were days we all dreaded. A reminder of what we’d lost. After the War of the Worlds, everything was bleak and gray. The people we mourn showed up everywhere, in spirit form, allowed by the people of the Western World.

On birthdays, whether it be your own or that of a lost loved one, you do nothing. No celebrations. If a Western soldier caught a birthday party occurring, they’d shoot de...