[You can now purchase 100 Voicemails' paperback on Amazon!] After a car accident, seventeen year old Steve Carlton, goes into a coma. When he does wake up after a few months, he suffers from temporary memory loss. During this time, he starts to go through his messages and voicemails on his cellphone, trying to get a clue of who he used to be. Voicemails sent to him from a girl called Ari might have the answers to his questions. A story told through voicemails.

Quinn scribbles tainted emotions across thin layers of white paper. But to who? To someone who blinks once, sees her, and blinks again-just to make her disappear. To someone who sees her as a symbol of the ocean. To someone who thinks the ocean is disgusting and hideous, filled with trash and pathetic wandering fishes. To someone who believes that Quinn needs to be a size zero to be labeled as 'beautiful.' If she isn't, why in the world will anyone care to love her? She's disgusting. Worthless. An enormous sailboat that makes the world sink. But how long will it take until she sinks herself?

❝Nights are for talking.❞ [Short Story #36]

❝If I'm going to write a book it will be about you − about your flaws − because when I first fell in love with you it was because of your flaws.❞ All rights reserved @ o p t i c a l i t y | 2017

❝She was my dream girl − but I knew eventually I had to wake up.❞ Sequel to, u n r e q u i t e d All rights reserved @ o p t i c a l i t y | 2017

❝This is a why her, why not me story.❞ All rights reserved @ o p t i c a l i t y | 2017

Perhaps someday these words will make up for the bloodshot eyes and sleepless nights. [H.R: #13 in Poetry] beautiful cover by: @-averagesky

Skai was the kind of person that did reckless things just to be able to say that she had done them. I was the kind of person who liked to stay at home, and just read about people like Skai. Adventure, recklessness, it was never really my thing. But, Skai was different, and I was intrigued. I never really understood how much I had been missing until I met her. This is a story about my newfound, crazy, reckless, life. And a story about the girl that dragged me through it.

He was so fragile, like the flowers his mother used to plant in his back garden, the ones cherry red that wilted too fast. Shawn was the cherry red flower, it was when he laid in my lap, our fingers intertwined and my arms around him, that I knew he would wilt too fast. © weepies. All rights reserved. [[TRIGGER WARNING]]

Poetical writings of a girl & her past memories. #7 in poetry 💕