Mornings

Waking up in the morning is always a chore, but this year as I am attempting to become something resembling a well-adjusted member of society, waking up, as tiring as it sounds, is something I have to do. Sometimes it’s the thought of having to sit in that chair for the rest of the day looking for an idea I could stretch, paper-thin and neatly place on a typed up document on my laptop that just makes me groan. Other times it’s simply the thought of having to hear my editor politely screaming at me about something I think she would call …" deadlines "(what's that?). Needless to say, my life is a bore.

Usually, I go through some random feeds on Instagram and tell myself it’s to find “inspiration”. Which, I suppose, would be the case for most people, but because it's me, it can't be anything other than that I'm bored out of my mind. At the end of the day, you could call me a lazy millennial if you really want to, but at the very least you can't say that I’m not self-aware.

i don't know what I'm doing but I'm here and I might as well do what I can

Even a kid like me can think

Can believe

Can hope 

Told not to say strange things

Things adults don’t want to believe

Things they’re afraid to believe

Things they wish to believe

Another second 

Another minute

Another hour

Another year

Blow out all your candles 

And maybe you’ll grow old someday 

Understand the little girl 

The girls who believe that weight is all she has 

The girls who believe that cutting is a term for fighters

The girls who believe that silence is beauty 

The girls who believe that one can never achieve these things you give so easily to those on your “level”

Understand that little boy 

The boys who believe that violence is an answer

The boys who believe that silence is the correct answer

The boys who believe that crying is unbefitting of one whose dream is to become like those who’s words bleed and cease to spread in this pit we refuse to believe is our world

The boys who believe in hiding from the things that truly give their world color

Look around and see the people, the world as it is 

Help this pitiful creature

Save this beautiful sight 

But the dreams of our childlike minds are being twisted into the ideas of the ones we hate the most

One day you’ll understand 

One day you’ll believe me

One day you’ll regret it 

One day you’ll see it my way 

Yes, and one day you will cease to exist as you come back home into the very earth you spit on 

The home you mock and destroy every single day 

One day I won’t be here to see you in your prime 

One day I won’t be here to hear your words in the midst of all this silence

One day I won’t be here to blow out all your candles 

someday

Someday I’ll find you 

Here in your world 

Of distractions from things that go on, little girl 

Someday I’ll protect you 

From the things that take you

From the nightmare that surrounds you

Someday I’ll be there

Someday you’ll see me

Someday I’ll laugh with you 

Make you smile the smile that gives me air

The air I breath  

The smile that makes my heart warm

Someday I’ll cry with you 

For the things that won’t come back

For the things that did

For the things that I did

Someday I’ll come back to you 

To find the things you lost

To find the things that made you smile 

Someday I’ll be here

Someday you’ll find me 

Someday I won’t be lost anymore

But until then I’m sorry 

But until then I’ll cry

I’ll see the diamonds that surround your eyes

And I’ll wipe them from your face

Or at least make an attempt 

And maybe to your surprise 

I can’t say that I haven’t tried

You can’t feel my heart 

But maybe someday

Someday

I’ll finally be alive

What is this blog supposed to be?

Uuuuummm.... This is a question that has been in my head for a while, and I suppose you could call this blog a form of release. In the beginning, I just thought of it as a thing for book recommendations, but at the moment I don't really know what this blog has come to. This blog can be anything you want it to be. If you've come here in search of books don't worry, that's still going to be a thing. I guess you could now call this blog a sort of journal. I have a pretty boring life, and I don't have anything, in particular, to do with my life. But for now, I've decided to focus on having fun? I don't really know what I'm doing. I'm just doing what makes me happy. You can keep reading if you want, I'm not going to force you to or anything. This is just something to help me to, I don't know, bottle up things I guess.  Anyway, have a nice rest of your day. Bye.

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. If your burning hatred for the education system is steering you away from this great read I recommend you give it another shot. Trust me, it's worth it!

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


Prompt: You're in a bar. You meet someone that you think you may get along with. Somewhere along the conversation someone taps you on the shoulder looks at you and says, "you can see her too?"

She won’t stop looking at you. Today you’ve drowned in your own tears, you think you deserve a little fun. You wonder what she looks like when she’s crying. You wonder what she sounds like when she screams. Memories from your past remind you of all the things you lost. “YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY INSANE,” says a female voice in your head. You see the people you love. The people you miss. The people you killed. The last thing you see is a white rose stained in red. You walk to her. While you two are speaking, you feel nostalgic. Is it because of the way that she talks? Is because of what she’s saying? You hear someone call your name, “XXXXX.” You turn around to see the only person you care about who is still here. You asked to be excused as you start to walk slowly to your one and only friend. “What,” you ask, “it was actually going well this time.” Your friend looks at you and with a serious look on their face they respond with, “You see her too?” You feel a chill running down your spine. As you slowly turn around you see her. Not the stranger you thought might be another victim, but you see…..

1960-1987

It’s all just a memory now. Wait. Why am I dead?