"Sometimes happiness feels like a chore." A short story chronicling the relationships (and lack thereof) of Drew; in which nights and days are spent curled up in the tear-and-food-stained sheets, with and without the warmth of another living soul, because he has lived like this and he'll probably die like this -- whether he likes it or not. (As if life ever bothered to ask). Otherwise known as: Sleep is for the weak, and love is for those asleep. So Andrew shouldn't wonder why he's virtually a self-induced insomniac who might just very well die of loneliness one day.

A dialogue short story about the things we wake up to that remind us there are still things in this life worth waking up for. ante meridiem - [adv. & adj.] "before noon;" Abbr: A.M. Or a.m. [credit to owner of image (not me)]

A girl with her heart on her sleeve and boy with a reputation of breaking them. A/N: I started writing with this when I was 13. I love it a lot because I used it as a platform to talk about issues that mean a lot to me and I feel don't get enough attention (especially as I got older and learnt more), but please keep that in mind!! Cover made by: (sorry i haven't gotten your name yet, but i will put it down once i get it!) WARNING: This book deals with issues like self-harm and mental health. HIGHEST RANKING: #2 in Teen Fiction COPYRIGHT ©2015

In which I am you, you are me, and we are the moments that define us.

[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.

There in those city lights, there was no her and there was no him. There was just everything and nothing and the spaces in between, like flickering lights against a never-ending, black sky. There in those city lights, there was no love and there was no hate. There was just listening and talking and understanding every single thing, like the 'ready, stop, go' of car-chasers and dream-makers. There in those city lights, there was no sadness and there was no happiness. There was just candid smiles and wasted tears and bottom lips chewed off, like the overflowing boulevard of things unseen. There in those city lights, there was no lady and there was no man. There was just a boy and a girl, who promised to fall in love, not with each other, but in those city lights. [a blind collaboration by @hepburnettes & @cityscape]

from: a pragmatic lover // content: of every bit of you that matters--maybe everything.

["I'm lost in a forest of thoughts and the trees are in flames."] Poems of some sort and thoughts and feelings and questions that will never be answered. Highest ranking: 73rd in poetry - 23.2.16 *cover made by @-misadventures*