Innerworld قصص

A girl whose heart glows like a lantern. A warmth that reaches someone she's never met. A love story that begins not with searching, but with remembering. This is the moment two unseen souls recognize each other across distance, silence, and the quiet ache of night. A soft, atmospheric tale about resonance, intuition, and the invisible thread that pulls two hearts into the same breath.

Both dreams left a lingering clarity. The moments with my brothers, though fleeting, were sharp in detail-the blank stares, the gestures, the sense of purpose that carried them away. I understood something profound: even in absence, the bonds remain, shaping perception and grounding awareness. These dreams are not just memories; they are reminders of love's endurance, the unspoken guidance that continues to reach through time and space, and the quiet preparation for facing reality with both courage and reflection.

Every day, I wake up with that truth burning in my chest. The emptiness is there too, stretching into the spaces where hope used to live. You have to live with yourself after one foolish mistake-there's no going back. The cynic? That's just the romantic with a broken heart, hiding behind walls he built to survive. This isn't a story about love. It's about regret. About a foolish girl who ruined everything. About the emptiness she still carries. My name is Wendy Testaburger. And as long as I write this book, I am alive. Andrea... I love you. Forgive me.

A poem exploring the yearning of a reserved writer for a muse, a subject of enduring inspiration, and a love that transcends the pages of their poetry.

... Hard to get what you got. Now too wet under hat ...

Help me know you better. Midweek curiosity calls. You choose, you vote and your vote matters.

Dear readers, I am truly grateful that you've opened this book. It was created for one simple reason - to give me a place to store the fantasies, dreams, and sudden ideas that strike me at any moment. Whether I'm at work, playing a game, reading, or even asleep... my mind often throws at me a spark of a story, a world, or a fragment of dialogue between two characters. Not all of these ideas are meant to become full novels - but they certainly deserve to be written down. This book is not a blog. It is a collection of short stories, fragments, and passing thoughts that stayed in my head... or appeared out of nowhere. Maybe some of them will one day grow into something bigger. Maybe they will remain just shadows in the mind. Thank you to everyone who carries a restless imagination within themselves. This book is for you. Pavel Cross

Sparks That Can't Be Ignored This is where art meets art. A collection of my responses-poems, reflections, and unravelings-inspired by the work that moves me. These are not reviews; they are conversations. My heart's version of the same beautiful dream. This is an Echo. For full version of my work, visit: ✨🫧Open Soul Bubble To understand the mind behind these echoes: 🫧✨First Burst Book Forever Becoming Contains English and Arabic verses

Inner Earth of Curiosity and hallow Agartha of Crystalice (Kri-ist-Alice)

this is us describing our innerworld.

Crystal Moon System alter list-thing-book, I don't know what to call this... Currently moving to my new account; @TransAceWithAPan

Through introvert eyes, the world takes flight, In introspection's embrace, they see the light. Amidst chaos and noise, they're calm and wise, A sanctuary of strength, veiled in disguise.

With the Mind of a Philosopher, The heart of a Channeler and most of all the hands of the divine. I present to you my blog articles in the form of this book. These are a compilation of my blogposts. My subscription will soon end, and I wanted to compile all my work here and continue to keep on working on it. Hope You Enjoy! Cheers:)

Someone's life and thoughts.

She didn't speak often, but her silence carried stories. In study, in hunger, in memory and voice- she found pieces of herself stitched into metaphors. She Was Made of Metaphors is a collection of short stories that bloom in quiet places- in the warmth of a father's voice, the ache of forgotten food, the weight of words that linger too long. If you've ever listened too deeply, missed something too invisible, or felt too much for this loud world- these pages were waiting for you. - written by Nairü

driftwood /ˈdrɪftwʊd/ (n.) pieces of wood which are floating on the sea or have been washed ashore.

This isn't fiction or fantasy to me this is real in my mind because I created it using inverted astral projection. I'm just writing it to keep record of what's going on in my head.

Just a one-part metaphorical story about returning to my old self. Nothing to be really interested about ... But if you want to know more about me then feel free to read and comment!

it's a poem about me about life and what I feel I hope through this i would be able to make you feel like damn this is what I feel