Dedicated to cityscape, because of how inspiring she is. Everything she writes is just beautiful, full of emotion, poetic. I just love all her stories. If you haven't already, go read them!
For those who have felt the need to talk, and had no one but the stars.
For those who have felt like Juliet, judged by a glance, seen under a facade.
For my family, always supporting and inspiring me
And lastly, for all the writers out there, struggling to get known, remember to never let go.
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Big empty rooms. Yells echoing across the corridors. The stench of Mother's whisky breath. The sound of the clock in the dining hall where Father never eats, endlessly ticking away the hours without him. Sometimes, there are scars that don't go away. This is not a love story. It's not about magic and hope. This is the story of my life, for the times I had no one but the stars.
“Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly, to be fearful of the night.”
― Sarah Williams, Twilight Hours: A Legacy of Verse
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Hi guys!
So this is just something I started writing almost a year ago now, but didn't want to publish for a bunch of silly reasons. I found it wasn't ready, thought no one was going to read it, but mostly I was scared. Writing holds something very personal, even if it's fiction because it's got all these details that are so YOU. And so if someone doesn't like it, it feels like they don't like you. But then I got over that and thought "So what of they don't like me?" and gathered the confidence to get it out there, even if it wasn't perfect yet. Also, I realized that I would never find it perfect and would always want to change something, so I might as well stop touching it up before I go nuts. But, if you see any things that don't make sense, typos, or have opinions you'd like to share, PLEASE DO! Whatever your thoughts, it would mean a lot if you could share them with me. This is my first finished story, so it means a lot ot me. :)
Love,
Crunch -xox-
YOU ARE READING
Talking to the Stars (Completed)
ChickLitBig empty rooms. Yells echoing across the corridors. The stench of Mother's whisky breath. The sound of the clock in the dining hall where Father never eats, endlessly ticking away the hours without him. Sometimes, there are scars that don't go away...
