Writersnetwork - Blog Posts

i keep crying

i keep crying at the littlest things, and i cry that i do that to myself. i let every little thing tear me down and break me until i feel like i'm worth nothing. but who do i have if i keep making these walls so my feelings don't get hurt. who do i have if i can't let myself experience anything?

i don't know. who DO i have? if i can't even believe in myself or anyone to not make me cry. and then again it's all me, always me and my feelings that i feel too heavily.

some days

some days i get so lonely, but i also get so tired from saying hello. so i stare at the wall. the nice, blank, non-talkative wall. and it stares back at me. shining the sun in its reflection, letting the moon take its color. and days pass by. and still, i sit there staring at the wall. waiting, watching, my life pass me by.

so there i remain. staring at a wall that won't hurt my feelings, won't say i'm not enough, and won't take me for granted.

Everyday

Today my mom asked me why I haven’t eaten all day. This cycle goes on everyday.

Today my dad asked me why I didn’t want to eat all day. This question gets asked everyday.

Today my sister knocked on my door, dragged me out of bed, and asked me why I haven’t moved all day. This happens everyday.

Maybe I’m broken. No, I know the choices I made have been decided.

Maybe I’m frozen. No, I know the world is still moving on without me.

I don’t eat because I want to be pretty. The answer is simple really— I sit in my room staring at my wall because I simply don’t want to exist anymore. And some part of me hopes that one less meal means one less day of my life. I linger for just one day where I don't feel terrible anymore.

I don’t move because I don’t want to get hurt, I don’t say anything because I’m afraid of being a bother. I see the way people ignore my eyes, see my smile and think, "oh they’re fine." I hear the way people are afraid to ask how I’m doing. I hear the way they fumble their words of reassurance. I can see their schedules filled with plans that don’t include me. Or maybe— it's all in my head again & people don't hate me, I do.

So here I sit, staring at the wall, hoping that maybe tomorrow isn’t like everyday.

A thank you letter to my sisters

Today you knocked on my door, and dragged me out of bed. You placed my cat in my arms, hoping I’d feel comfort instead of dread. It helped, for awhile, until you made me breakfast and coffee past noon. I yawned and cried, and you held my hand as I sobbed.

I gave you knives, scissors, & tweezers to place away for awhile. Telling you I can’t see them or I’ll harm myself & be hostile.

We’ve have our moments, and for them I am sorry. But I know if I fall I’ll always have my sister to catch me & carry.

Sisterhood is sacred, honest, & true. And forever may I be grateful of being blessed by you.

When I fainted, you placed me in bath water, & picked up my frail body off the floor. Heartbroken that the path towards healing was one that would feel evermore.

I remember when we were little and you would cover my ears with headphones, the vinyls playing loudly to fade out the screaming outside our doors. Playing games with me in the middle of the night while our parents roamed the streets looking for our missing brother. When I would get nightmares and you would share your half of the bed. When we had a fridge more than half empty and you would half a raw ramen and we would bite into them as they tasted like lead. When we would hide in the closet as they screamed at us to behave or they’d knock us out dead. When you reminded me to hold my pride as men would prey on me, praying we’d seek our revenge. When you handed me my favorite trinket as the ambulance took me away, holding my hand, & telling me I’ll be okay.

Many times have I failed finding sisterhood in others— and never does it touch the same. The lack of compassion is jarring, nothing can compare, or even aim.

There are too many who do not understand, the beauty of sisterhood & the chaos in its wonderland.

For my sisters I am grateful. Forever & ever.

May I try to live another day, just for my sisters.

Why am I the exception?

I should’ve seen it from the start, perhaps I was always a henchman sent to do your biddings. but when it came to my knees being scraped, I got up on my own. I covered my cuts with bandages I found used on the side of the road. or maybe I was seeking comfort in places where I shouldn't have. I always do this. I'm so naive. I wish I didn't fall for every nicety. Sometimes I wish I was meaner. But it hurts me to be mean, and it hurts to be nice to myself too.

I feel like everyone hates me

I feel like everyone hates me, I know it's in my head. Or maybe it's just the fact I've been boiling inside with anger bright as red. Or maybe it's a hidden animosity, where I tried so hard to be liked, that from the start it was set up for failure because I shifted myself outright. Maybe if I was louder they'd like me more? Maybe if I had more followers they'd think I was worth keeping around? Maybe if I was prettier they'd think I wasn't worth comparing? Maybe if I kept my tears quiet I wouldn't be so annoying? I'm sorry. I hope it's all in my head.

I walk underneath your shadow

no matter where I walk it's under your shadow. right beneath yours, intertwined. I don't know whether to be grateful or not. whether or not it's something I need. but on days where I need your shadow to keep me away from the sun, you walk a little farther, never there when I need it most. these days it seems that through distance, as you walk each step a little faster and farther, I can no longer feel your warmth. and your shadow has been making me feel colder. so maybe it's time to just stop moving and let your shadow walk alone. because I think I'm ready for this shadow to finally be my own.

I have an issue with facing things head on

I have an issue with facing things head on, with sitting down and telling myself… okay this is what you do. I used to be good at it. I used to be the one people would go to when they needed a whole spreadsheet on what to do, on what classes to take, on what goals to set up for themselves. But something about UCLA drained me, even if it was just two years. It sucked what soul I had left. It stole my youthful energy, my aspirations of who I wanted to be, of my hope, my dreams, and most definitely my spirit. I thrived there, yes I did, but at the cost of my sanity. Everyday I walked those halls I could feel the pressure crippling me down to my core. My feet crumbling beneath me and my sense of self slowly being overshadowed by the ideals of an institution overthrown with wh!te supremacy. Unfortunately, it led me to the darkest pits I could feel in my bones. I wanted to fade away and never exist. Maybe it was my fault, a young girl moving to the big city in hopes of finally being free. Maybe it was all my fault that I never paced myself. Maybe it truly was all my fault, after the world shut down for a couple years I finally saw hope to escape, hope that masqueraded underneath a veil of thief. I won’t be ungrateful for being able to experience what I have, meet some amazing brilliant minds, but also I won’t be ever truly so blind to say this place didn’t leave me with the most of scars. Or maybe, this place exposed the scars that I thought I had already healed from. “I wish I did this differently, I wish I did that differently.” No. I did my best everyday, actually. I did what I never thought possible, actually. I’ve been working so hard to be where I am right now since I was a young teenage girl, so why… So why do I still feel— like a failure? Will this feeling ever go away? I’m so close to the finish line, yet my energy to keep running is gone, and I hate myself for it.

"I love it when the night sky makes me feel insignificant."

Colleen Hoover | It Ends With Us

[Text ID : "I love it when the night sky makes me feel insignificant."]

The First Day

For the past nine years, I've forgotten November first. 

Seriously, the entire day. Something in my brain has allowed me to completely skip past the day for years, shown through every November writing project. November is National Novel Writing Month. Since 2013, I have participated in NaNoWriMo, a month dedicated to the completion, however roughly, of a piece of writing. Every year, I miss the first day of writing, which always sets me behind for the remainder of the month. Occasionally, I have even forgotten to write until halfway through the month, leaving me scrambling to come up with 30 thousand words in a couple weeks. 

This year, I'm prepared. 

On the second, of course. I forgot about yesterday. 

This year my goal is 50 thousand words. As I start each day, I'd like to begin with a quick post depicting my process and process. And of course I wouldn't be an author if I didn't add: Look for the first volume in the Otherworld series, coming 2023. 

Forever Writing,

quill rose

Questions to help develop your otp. Pt1.

I present a list if questions to help gain insight into your precious fictional couples.

What real couples could they be compared to ? Why ?

What fictional couples could they be compared to ? Why ?

Who normally cooks ?

What do they do when they're away from each other ?

Do they have nick names for each other ? What ?

Who's more likely to pay for dinner?

Who steals the covers at night ?

Who remembers things ?

Who cusses more ?

Who kissed who first ?

Who made the first move ?

Who started the relationship ?

What would they do if the other was hurt ?

How did they both meet ?

What are their common interests ?

What's the individual goal for each character ?

What are their common goal ?

Do their goals conflict ?

What's the core for each character ?

How do they reveal their core to the other character?

What are their relationship expectations ?

Does either have an addiction?

In what areas do they worry about each other ?

How would each character feel if they had to leave for a time ? How would they react if they divorced or broke up?

How do they handle dividing up chores and household duties ?

Who's the breadwinner of the house ?

Do they ever resent each other ?

What activities do they enjoy together ?

What activities does one enjoy that the other doesn't ?

How do they fight or defend the other ?

How do they express love for each other ?( Eg acts of service, physical touch, words of affirmation, quality time, giving gifts ? Etc)

What values do they both share ?

Who takes more responsibility for their actions?

Who's more likely to give in and compromise?

Do they feel the same way about money ?

What habits do they have that makes the other unhappy ?( Eg: angry outbursts, annoying behaviors?etc )

What do they find the physically attractive about the other ?

What accomplishments do they most admire in each other ?

What small physical details does each love the most about the other ?

In what little ways did they disappoint each other?

How does each behave differently around the other ?

How does love make each character act irrationally?

How can each character tell how the other is feeling? Are they good at it or bad ?

How does being around each other change their thought process?

What do they share and talk about the most ?

What do they do in silent moments? What are they thinking about?

How do they spend time together usually?

What habits do they have that annoy the other ?

How do they react when the other is hurt or upset ? Do they try to help and how ?

How do they spend time on each other's hobbies or interests ?