All my what if's and what not's DISCLAIMERS ♤ Under copyright ♤ Cover images are not mine (besides a few) ♤ TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of death, depression, fear ♤ Mild language (sh**, damn, etc) © All rights reserved

random pieces of poetry from 2025 DISCLAIMERS ♡ Under copyright ♡ TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of death, depression, fear ♡ Cover images are not mine (besides a couple) ♡ Mild language (sh**, damn, etc). © All rights reserved

The world doesn't end. It forgets itself. If no one else remembers, the world will fade - and Nova wasn't going to give in. DISCLAIMERS ♡ Under copyright ♡ TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of death, depression, fear ♡ Cover images are not mine (besides a couple) ♡ Mild language (sh**, damn, etc). © All rights reserved

this is a short story about how a young man viewed the effects of communism around the 40s- in Russia

After the Collapse, the world rebuilt itself around a strange discovery: every human is born with a Memory Mark-a glowing sigil on their arm that determines how their brain stores reality. Over time, this created two distinct groups: 1. The Keepers - like Ezren Their marks let them store every memory perfectly, with flawless detail. Keepers never forget anything-faces, words, pain, loss. Their minds are heavy archives, and they're prized for their recall but feared for their inability to let go. 2. The Drifters - like Mira Their marks make memories fade within days unless emotionally significant. Drifters live in a constant state of reinvention-light-hearted, adaptable, and unburdened. They're seen as unreliable but free. Because Keepers grow overwhelmed and Drifters grow unstable when mixed, society separated them into two cities: Recall and Flux, divided by a river that loops like a question mark through the wasteland. Ezren (Keeper) and Mira (Drifter) meet as children when Mira wanders across the river during one of her "blank days." He helps her remember her way home by writing on her arm with charcoal. She remembers him only as "the boy who drew on me," and he remembers everything-her laugh, the way the wind tangled her hair, the way she called the ruined riverboats "sleeping whales." They keep meeting by accident. Or maybe fate. For Ezren, their encounters build into a story he revisits nightly. For Mira, each meeting feels like a new beginning-yet something in her chest insists she's known him before.