It's just me and my thoughts freely wandering amongst the waves of ideas. It's just me and my pen expressing what's going on inside my head. It's just me and myself. ~~~ A collection of poems, short stories, and thoughts ranging many topics. Please comment! I'd love to hear your feedbacks :D

This is a free verse story about a girl who is trying to figure out what is happening to her, why is everything going downhills, and is she really okay? This is a really deep and personal collection for me, and I do wish to share it with the world in hopes of someone else also feeling connected to these issues. Enjoy reading :)

"Can you still love someone even if they don't love you back? If so, how much are you willing to put in?" Short poems and quick tales make up this collection and stories of people in love. This will contain multiple separate storylines, each similar yet unique in its own. They all have one thing in common: love. What it's like to love someone, and would that someone love you back? Different scenarios, different narrators. Please comment as I would love to hear your feedback! Enjoy reading :D

"She wears the stars in her eyes, And consumes the moon to her lungs," ... Pretty Musings is a combination of proses of umpteen generes and poems that depends on moodswings. This is a teen based book. suitable for all ages. If you enjoy the book do review it in comment. copyright © 2018.

Elysian - adjective that explains the art of something creative, beautiful and true

All the poems I've written about you, for you.

"Sometimes...I would write letters, but never send them. It started off as unfinished thoughts written to my friends and family but then began to trickle down to more mundane recipients, such as my late loved ones and enemies. Eventually I began writing to my depression, and this was where I learned the most about myself. This past year, I began writing to my insomnia. The letters would be bitter; I would accuse insomnia of being a thief. It would steal my nights away from me and merge them with my days. It took away my logic and, instead, force fed me delusions used to keep my mind awake. You were a grim truth, that I could not foresee coming. Some letters would be sorrowful; I would cry because insomnia was a game. It was a game, that I did not want to play, of trying to desperately distract myself with anything nearby as an attempt to hide from my depression. Depression has always felt like my landlord, waiting to evict me. Even at midnight Depression would show up, with me frantically folding my laundry in mania, calling out to the door 'Just one minute..!'. I have always been terrified to open the door and face my depression head on, because of this, you became my biggest distraction. But now, since stopping writing those letters, I have realized something. Despite being addressed to insomnia...they were written for you. Perhaps, this is my way of sending them." So this is for you. Sincerely, Pheonix....the girl that survived.

a way to vent my thoughts into short arrangements of words. from half-asian struggles to the aesthetic sunrise. -Emi W.