The sort of sad I feel is straight to the bones. Its an aching, dull sort of pain that constantly tires you out and drags you down. It's the sort of sadness that settles in your muscles and leaks into your bloodstream with every sideways, crooked beat of your heart. It makes your every cell feel heavy and weak, like someone's dipped each separate one in concrete and settled them back in your body. It weighs you down until you can barely move, barely talk, barely breathe. The sort of sad I feel is a lost concept to some people. They don't understand why I could be so sad when I have so much. They say I'm living the life, I've got everything I could possibly need, but I don't. I'm stuck in a hole I've dug with my own shovel, and I keep digging. Because the people that don't understand, they're standing above me, watching my arms work and my fingers bleed while I dig further and further down, drinking water while I'm drowning. The sort of sad I feel is sort of always like that. Always like drowning and watching people drink what's pulling me down. It's like watching someone light a match while my skin is melting off. It's like seeing someone drop an ice cube into their glass while I'm freezing to the ground. It's like digging a hole while everyone else throws dirt back in. The sort of sad I feel is always there, like the air and the earth, and it won't ever quit, like the wind and the rain.

The vast majority of the writing I have seen on this website is worth less than the change I left upon your mother's nightstand. That means that, by statistical likelihood, your writing probably sucks too. Not in whole, mind you, but when it comes to a few of the trickier bits, you find yourself staring at a blank screen and scowling like a madman. I, on the other hand, am damned good at this writing stuff. So, out of the bottomless generosity of my heart, I decided to try and help your plebeian self. Plot exposition, character development, show versus tell, and all the little things that experienced writers know already. These are the secrets I'll drop on your lap in a vain attempt to make you learn a thing or two. I'm tired of reading all the crap on this site; don't let your work be part of it.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." People have always said that beauty is what's in the inside, and yet media and society focus on the outside appearance. I am here to stand against every social norm, every person that has said you are not good enough, and I am writing to change your mind. This is not a fiction novel, this is not for entertainment. This is merely for inspiring other people. This is for all of you.

This is a project that I'm doing for my writing course at UCI.

*SYTYCW winner* Inspired by a list of confidence-boosting tips in a magazine, twenty-four-year-old Megan Riley decides it's about time she became a confident woman. But after stumbling over the easy points such as buying a bra and learning to cook, how is she going to survive asking a guy out? NOTE: This is a sample only. Wattpad cover by NightRose154

One day in his hotel room, Niall gets a package of twenty one letters. Twenty one letters about a girl who poured her heart out to Niall, a girl who is dying inside and is trying to fix herself again. As Niall begins to read, and the letters begin to run out, he finds himself knowing and loving this girl, all the while knowing that one day, he's going to have to stop reading. Because she stopped writing.