Iamnotokay Geschichten

The cover for this is half-assed and the title is lazy but pretty much where I talk about all of my ocs that are either fully or somewhat involved with OnC/SM and WDY I think I'll throw in a few of my boyfriend's ocs as well but I don't know what the fuck I'm doing with my life and I'm slowly dying on the inside so this bit of information is really dependent on my mood

you dream about the best nugget and he turns out to he real...??!?!?!??@?!?@@(, #

I don't think you want to read this. It's what's going on in my head I guess. Yeah. I am going to keep this up for A while I feel like this is probably depressing and crapy so don't read it. No one will read this anyway I don't know why I am doing this in the first place. I highly doubt that more than 14 people will end up seeing it. But hey you don't have to read it either it's just a bunch or worthless shit anyway.

I don’t know what should I do anymore...should I tell him? Should I not? “Gerard?” asked Frank who seemed unsure of my behavior. Of course I was acting weird around him, he must have noticed. “Frankie... I need to tell you something.” “Yes?” he came closer to me; I could feel his body heat. He has so much heat for some reason but everyone thinks I am the one radiating heat from my body. I personally think its because he is hot, like super hot. Okay Gerard you can do this… “Frankie…” “Frankk….” She squeaked and hugged him from behind sending him staggering and pressed up towards me. As for myself, I was backed up against a wall and was probably a ten shades of red but fortunately Frank didn't seem to notice. Well not really fortunately since someone had now interrupted us. Some idiot who Frank liked. Really liked.

Y E S

This won't update very often

Hard core lemons. Starring Gerd

This is not a self-help book. It's a confession. A reckoning. A mirror you can't look away from. "Rotten Petals" is the raw, bleeding journal of a soul stuck between self-destruction and survival. Through poetry, fragmented memories, and vulnerable storytelling, this book unpacks the quiet war of self-hatred - how it festers, whispers, manipulates... and how it sometimes wears your face. It's for the ones who scream inside their skin. For the people who flinch when they see their own reflection. For the beautiful, broken hearts who've ever felt like a mistake. This isn't a story of recovery. It's a story of being seen, even in the dark. And maybe - just maybe - that's the first step back to yourself.

I relapsed after a panic attack, and woke up the next morning to find this fully written on my computer. Thought I'd post it. The boy with the ebony eyes is back in his shattered cell. He has been here for years, in and out. Nothing makes sense. CWs: implied sh, blood, implied suicide

𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙤𝙚𝙢 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 ♡

Noel? Shooketh Todoroki? In love Y/n? M o o d Hotel? Trivago

Endless thoughts #15 on "I Miss You" #27 on "Romeo and Juliet" #1 on "tiredoflife" #1 on "iamnotokay" #1 on "iamtired"

I was left in the car with only wattpad and harry potter movies for 4 hours. I decided to write a note to my friend. This is my mind. Please don't think I'm crazy. Or do. Just don't question my antics.

Just a few short stories I've been working on, idk they're probably not that great and half of them I'm writing at 3am. Just read them if you have some time to waste I guess lmao

you know the colour blue? no, not the bright aqua blue; the colour of slate and light rain. that blue. this poetry makes me think of blue it's happy, but it's solemn. and it's broken, but it's almost like a broken mirror. in pieces, but beautiful ever still. i hope my poetry makes you think of the colour blue<3