I Haven’t Journaled In So Long Because I’m Actually A Bunny House Wife And I’m Busy Feeding My

WORDS FROM THE HALLWAY

She had spun herself a web- not one of lies nor of truth- 

Just a sticky situation to let others come into 

It’s quite strange, to be a bird like her

For words and songs aren’t always heard

She declares her faith to one admirer 

But the nest and the next she has no desire. 

Birds can’t speak but she’s a flyer.

Watch her dive, watch her drive, 

Watch her spin her web of crimes. 

Watch those tears fall down others' faces, 

Will she stop and slow her pace? 

Twig legs no longer there, 

She’s disgusted and caught in her hair. 

Dare she move once more? Fuck those birds and slam the door.

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ. September will bring blessings.

ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

Happy STS! Your story gets told from someone else's perspective. Whose is it?

If Cavity was to be told from someone else’s perspective, it would have to be her love interest. The woman who is caught in Delaney’s revenge scheme. Her narrative would be just as important as Delaney’s narrative, perhaps more honest.

Untitled Rambles

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.

never related to authors being like "childhood is such a blessed innocent time", catch me with that jane eyre shit like "such dread as children only can feel" and "I then sat with my doll on my knee til the fire got low, glancing round occasionally to make sure nothing worse than myself haunted the shadowy room"

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."

hold onto this for me

If you feel a little crazy looking at news coverage of Gaza or any other military operations, I HIGHLY recommend looking at the Words About War guide which provides lists of misleading phrases commonly used by governments and the media to obscure the realities of war. Sitting down with a news article with this guide and replacing things like "enemy noncombatant" with "civilians" will change the entire way you look at war news and the media as an agent of the military machine. They also have a special guide on Gaza!!

So they are hazel.

The gleam in your eyes, the way the sun hits them, and 

Makes you shine. 

Your smile- 

It beams with life. 

I’d love to see you dance, to see your body fly. 

You say you can’t sing, and that you’d wish you took 

Singing lessons as a kid, 

But darling your voice is a river, and it flows and flows 

And flows, 

Sure, you’re not peaceful, my chaotic little sunshine, 

I love the way you toss and turn throughout the 

Night. You’re blindingly breathtaking. Every word that 

Leaves your mouth is passionately formed from your soul 

And mind. 

You’re a mess. 

Not to be cliche- but a beautiful mess. You astonish me 

With every move you make.

Your laughter is honey to my ears. 

You make me listen, and see peacefully for once. 

Dear hazel eyes,  please don’t leave my side. 

Regrets from a princess,

Or a knight

Let’s call it a night.

My heart beckons me to your every call.

It races, it leaps, frolicking in some poisonous daises.

Why doesn’t it know any better?

Each day is a lesson learned

Each day is a prayer earned.

My hatred for syrup is the same as my feelings- a sticky situation that i can’t get myself out of.

I want to cry

And i cry.

I’m angry

Again.

I’m let down

Again