KNITTED2

Sometimes it's useful to look at your dialogue and ask yourself, "would a real human being talk like that?" But it's also good to ask the follow-up questions of "would the way a real human being talks sound good here" and "does this character actually talk like a real human being or are they weird about it."

everyone: what's your goal in life?

me: to write a story so soul snatching, so gut wrenching and so devastatingly beautiful that it leaves you crying at 3am when you have a 8am lecture/shift and it inspires people to write entire essays, to write entire fanfics, mood boards and playlists based on it.

(x)

Little bunny, what will you bring? You know it’s nothing new but it’s just as important. Little bunny don’t be crude, my pain is not your food.

Let’s hop into the new year.

BRIGHT 

Greys, blacks, and whites 

In a world full of dull 

You are my light. 

She shines so bright 

Vivid dreams come to life 

She whispers things 

That my heart can’t 

Retain 

She sings things to my brain 

That I just can’t explain 

She makes me breathe 

Pushing the oxygen from 

Her love 

Into my lungs 

She reaches and pulls 

Down the moon and the 

Stars. 

She goes far. 

they’re called rabbits when they’re underground and they’re called bunnies when they break out from the earths crust

"fuck you my child is completely fine"

your child reads classic literature for fun

every time I try to write something silly it's not long before things get mildly serious and the tone changes

but I want to channel my inner child and forget all that, I want to write something fun without overthinking

Looking through old photos and I found one of my junior homecoming dance. It was the night after my dad's funeral. My friend who'd stayed with me the entire week, in my bed, through all the tears, made me get out of bed that night. She pulled my shirt up over my head and told me to get in the shower. She washed my hair for me. She curled it. She rubbed foundation onto my face, lined my eyes, and put me in my dress.

She contacted my other friends who were feeling awkward and unsure of what to do and told them the party was still on, to meet at my house for photos before the dance.

They all showed up, and I went to the dance, and we all screamed and cried, and I took my first step to healing.

I haven't spoken to that girl in five years. Nothing happened. I moved away. She fell in love. We grew apart and into our own lives.

It's strikes me how beautiful the ephermeral nature of teenage friendships can be.

We may not need each other now, but there was a time when I needed her more than anyone. And sometimes she needed me.

And the universe put us together just then. Just when it was most important. Not a year too late or too soon. The same town, the same school, the same classroom where we could meet. Right when it mattered.

We come and go from people's lives every day, and along the way we may get a chance to love someone fully, just for a little while.

I'll remember every single one.

I feel sick. Again. Not in control. Again. 

Shaken, misplaced, irregular 

I have all the words ready to spew out from my faucet, 

But they won’t come out, not right now, 

And not right. Just jumbled word vomit that smells like grief, aching, and anxiety. 

My insides feel all torn up. 

All messed up. 

Just like my mind. 

I’m currently trying to find out if I’m even alive. 

This stupid ringing in my ear, 

This stupid voice in my head, 

This stupid way that I look at him. 

Pushing my feelings aside. No longer shoving them down his throat, just my fingers that he loves to suck. 

My body that he loves to touch. 

My body that is hard for me to touch. 

Looking around to see others wanting me but I’m not sure if I even want myself anymore. 

Cause he used to want me in a way that made my heart fucking flutter. He used to want me in a way that proclaimed love was real. 

I promised to put myself first. 

I promised to love myself. 

I used to put myself first. 

I used to love myself more than I loved anyone else. 

I met him and fell down a landslide. 

Is it me wanting to get pleasure because it’s so easily accessible, or is it me wanting to get pleasure to erase those feelings, to take me to an out-of-body experience, to just make my brain empty and my body full? I want to be loved, and I want to be cared for. By him. But it’s not possible, not right now, perhaps not ever, just not in the way that I love and care for him. So I’m putting myself first. I will be organized, I will be on time, I will take my medication, I will make my bed and do yoga and see friends. I will have sex for pleasure and to fill that void. I believe that love just isn’t on the menu for me right now. Not right now. I know it will come, I vow it too. But I stop my beckoning. I hold off on the searching and the begging. I’m young. It’s about me.