Thursday, October 12, 2017

Hey there, just making use of some free time

This world is beautiful
What people have given me is not something real
Where are you?
You look at the things around you and you feel something that is unpredictable
This is what beauty looks like
What it feels like
Where are we in this cycle?
We are all damned to an eternal slumber
Only the true dreamers have the power to wake up
Have you seen the lights in the sky
Have you seen purity
Have you seen it
I’m flying away from this place
What looks beautiful close up needs a step back
This is not a drill
Maybe it always has been
When we, the average, finally open our eyes we will feel what has been long lost
I refuse to admit it
I refuse to see this world as beautiful
This world is like the words you send out
They kill
they’re deceitful
The only thing keeping me here are the chains of fear that restrain me
I can’t fly away now
I can’t open my eyes
My eyes are sown shut
My words are invisible
Untouchable
Maybe someday you’ll see me
Just take a look at what you’re standing on
Am I beautiful?
Why do you call me ugly
Why must you call me deceitful
Will I be enough
Will my life ever be enough
Maybe if I destroy mine you’ll finally take it
You’ll finally see it
You’ll finally see me
In the end you are only truly beautiful when you’re dead

The Secret Life of Bees

I can't recommend this book enough! This book made me laugh, it made me cry. I don't really know what to say to make you read it other than...PLEASE READ IT! Some people probably read this for school. I didn't, but I feel as though I wouldn't be mad if they gave me this for an assignment. You know how whenever teachers assign you a book to read you instantly get an urge to hate it? I think that this book is possibly one of my favorite books of all time.

Tuesday, October 3, 2017

What Stories Will You Tell

Prompt: If you could invent/change/manipulate any law what would it be? Someone has broken this law. Write a story about him/her


He gasps for breath. Run run run, this is all that is going through his head. He risks a peek behind him. He longs for the ability to scream. Right, left, left, right. After a while he hears silence. He turns around and heaves a sigh of relief. He rushes home. He blocks everything else out of his mind and focuses on just one thing, his typewriter. He begins to type. His hands moving faster than ever before, after no time at all he’s finished. He looks at the time, 12 a.m.
Time really does pass, doesn’t it. He slumps into bed. He feels his whole body going numb.


Alexander Monroe  1876-1905
    Cause of death: Unknown


In this world you cannot talk. It is not illegal, you are just physically unable to speak. Everyone in this world has to get their mouth sewn shut as soon as they are born. Everyone has to do it. We are capable of communicating through thought. Alexander Monroe is both a hero and a criminal. He has committed a crime. In this world it is illegal to write. The penalty for breaking this law is death.  


Prompt: You are in a scary forest and you come across a mansion. What is inside?


I run away. Running away from all the things that I can’t hold. To all the things that have killed me. To all the things that made my life an everlasting hell. I run. Through a forest of beautiful autumn trees. I run straight through, until I hear the sound of my lifes problems stop chasing after me. I risk a look back and I trip onto the ground. I look up to see a mansion that wasn’t there before. I don’t know what, but something about it doesn’t seem safe to me. I pull myself up and hear the door creak open. I’m greeted with nothing. Just an open door to a mysterious abandoned mansion. I know that I shouldn’t. Every cell in my body is telling me no, but I feel my curiosity growing stronger. I go in. I don’t see anything. Everything is pitch black. I close my eyes, and when opening them again I see a memory. I feel tears stinging my eyes. I don’t want to remember. I just want to forget all of things relating to my past, but I can’t help it. I scream. Everything goes black. A noise wakes me up. It’s a loud noise. It sounds like a woman moaning. I stand. I see a small light in the distance. I walk towards the only thing I have. I look down and see a kitten. A small kitten. I heave a sigh of relief. I crouch onto the ground to pet it. “You scared me little guy,” I say. There was a collar around his neck. I see that his name is Mr. Tickles, but something is strange. It has two dates on it. 1960-1965. I look at the kitten in fear. I don’t see a cute little kitten anymore. It was dead. I scream and throw it on the ground. I stand up quickly, but stumble. I see a hand in front of me. A man’s voice said, “I see you’ve found my kitten.” I look up at the man, and I regret it. I scream as loud as i possibly could.This is how I disappeared…….

 Rest in peace
Alice: 2003-2017





Thursday, September 28, 2017

What is a book?

Let's get back on track with the topic of books. A book is a sanctuary. A book is not a thing it is a destination. Every story has a bit of the author's voice in it. Let me hear your voices. Have you ever thought that maybe it's not somewhere that you're trying to escape to, but rather somewhere we want to go back to. Every book is full of history. When your head is full of the things that you want to say, this is when it is best to write. These types of writings aren't things that are meant to be critiqued or edited. These are the things that are real. These are the things that make a true story, and here's mine.



Maybe someday I'll see you
Maybe someday I'll leave you
Maybe someday I'll hate you
I was told that you were the secret to life
I have been told that you would lead me
I was told that you would leave me
I bang my head against a wall in hopes that I'll be able to see something
Something that will give me hope that I'm still here
Send me home
Sing me a song of something that will give me what I've lost
I want to cry I want to laugh I want to smile
I don't feel it
I don't hear it
I said scream
And all I hear is silence

Monday, September 25, 2017

beautiful

What is this thing?
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."


If beauty is something that you lack
I suggest you look behind your back.

Look behind you for a second. Imagine all of the people that love you. Imagine all of the people that you have fixed. This is what beauty is. The people that love you, are not here for you to overlook. Look at them and say the words, "I love you." If this statement is true. Then that is what is truly beautiful.

Sunday, September 24, 2017

The things that have been overlooked

Some people in the past have told me to look up. To always make connections. I don't like listening, but by some of the odd rules of society I have been told to listen because they've lived longer. I wonder what it's for? Looking up. With this I have an image in my head:

In life you have faced many of hardships. We don't always show that we're bothered, but it still kind of sits there. Instead of showing how we feel, we like to absorb. We take it in. We keep all of the things inside of us. So I like to imagine it this way: I'm standing there looking towards the sky in hopes that none of the tears I've been holding spill out. Sometimes.... I forget. I let the tears fall. I look down, but don't misunderstand. I'm not sad anymore. I'm happy. It feels like a breath that I've been holding for years and years time. I don't want to do what people want anymore. I want to look down and see the things that have been overlooked. I want to throw a tantrum. I want to cry like a baby. Who said that this was wrong? That we shouldn't cry? Whoever it was, why? 

To all of the people struggling to cry. Do what you want. Cry and scream as loud as you can. These are the things that have been overlooked. These are the things that make life worth living. Then when you're done, wear that silly little grin of victory. This... is what true happiness feels like. 

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

i'm bored and I don't have enough of a life to be able to do something productive

... i just wrote this in my free time so......

In a bed full of white roses your love will forever stain them red. "I love you. Stay with me," she calls. Why aren't you there? Where are you? Your love is worth nothing. Save her. She's breaking. All because of you. Her corpse is so beautiful, but there's something missing. "Where is my heart, dear?" You used to see her with a smile on her face. Where did that smile go? She’s screaming. Tears of blood will fall down her face as she sees the face of the one she loved. She stands up as her weak hand grabs for your collar. “Why did you leave me? Why did you kill me? Why am I dead? Please stay here. Please say that you’ll love me forever. I promise that I’ll do everything right. I promise... so please stay.” Her face that was once full of beauty is now full of nothing but fear. You left her there. You left her corpse to decompose with all of the withering white roses. Even as you close the door you hear her screams resonating into the depths of your soul. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. What does this fix? In the end your love meant nothing. You’re apologies didn’t change anything. All you did was hurt her more than any wound to the heart. The only image running in your mind from there on out is a picture of her with blood running down from her eyes and her chest. You’re left with nothing but the chains of the woman you once loved. You close your eyes and lay down your head on your deathbed. “I’ll be with you soon, my love,” you say with a smile. A knife penetrates your heart and the last thing you see is an image of her before the roses. Your eyes are clouded with nothing but the broken image of what you called love. 






..... i have WAY too much free time