Journal Stories

• epistolary •

The universe is indifferent. You already knew that. Here's what nobody told you: indifferent isn't the same as empty. HOPANOIA: Red Words to Blue Hearts is a book being written in public - a living document from a trans woman in Georgia who decided that nihilism wasn't the end of the conversation, just the beginning of a more honest one. It's a philosophy manual for people who can't stand philosophy manuals. A memoir for people who distrust memoir. A spiritual practice built by someone who doesn't believe in spirits. A TTRPG framework for the actual campaign of your life. It calls itself a "religion of one" - anti-dogma, open-source, built to be forked and remixed, never followed literally. Its central move is Anomance: the act of animating a dead universe with meaning, not because it's true, but because it makes the universe livable. These are the working notes. 196 parts and counting. Written through mental illness, HRT, grief, political collapse, and the daily act of refusing to go quietly. The real book is being mined from this archive in real time. You're not reading a finished thing. You're watching something become itself. If that sounds like your kind of book - you're already the reader this was written for. Signed: a thot that likes thinking.

"I didn't realize you were keeping count." "You make it hard not to." He didn't miss a beat. She finally looked up at him then, for a split second, before turning back to the work at hand. "You make it seem like it bothers you." He took a slow step forward. Then another. The passing wood creaked beneath his polished black shoes- not from weight, but rather, intention. And when he did reach her, the air changed. Thickened. He didn't say a word. Just crouched, until their faces were level. His eyes raked over her- slow, invasive, wicked. He reached out, fingers catching her chin in a motion neither tender nor tedious- just possessive in its certainty. Like she was his to tilt- nothing more than something placed where he wanted it. She didn't flinch, didn't pull away, yet her spine straightened- a quiet rebellion he didn't miss. His thumb skimmed the edge of her jaw, tracing the line of it, the motion maddeningly slow. "You should know by now," he murmured, voice lower than before- rough silk, meant for her alone, "I don't waste my time on things," a pause, "not unless they crawl under my skin." He leaned closer, so close the scent of rain on wool and expensive cologne curled around her. "And you, Adair..." His tone sharpened. One breath more and those lips would certainly brush the shell of her ear. "You don't just crawl... no." A pause- sharp, surgical. "You spread, like a fucking disease." --Gray's Grace is a haunting tale of love caught in the gray - where nothing is certain, and everything is at risk.--

Trying to become the man my son deserves - one day at a time. This is me. Every day, trying to be a better man - even when I don't feel like one. A mess of thoughts, failures, wins, and everything in between. This is my journey in real time, raw and unfiltered. I'm not writing for attention. I'm writing for release. I pray that someone finds solace in the words on these pages. This is an ongoing journey with daily entries. It will be long. There will always be something to read. I think of this as a rough draft to a future published book - if I'm lucky enough to make it that far. Because of how I'm writing this, there won't be hundreds of parts. A new part begins each week, and daily entries live within the current week. Simple. Honest. Consistent.

Ask my PPT2 AU characters stuff ig-

Poems in the mind of a schizophrenic

ဇာတ်လမ်းတစ်ပုဒ် မဟုတ်ပါဘူး။ ဒီအတိုင်း ကျွန်မ စိတ်ကူးပေါက်ရာလေးတွေ၊ ကိုယ်နှစ်သက်တဲ့ သီချင်း၊ စာအုပ်နဲ့ ရုပ်ရှင်တွေအကြောင်း၊ ပြီးတော့... တစ်ခါတလေမှ တွေးမိတတ်တဲ့ ခေါင်းစဉ်မဲ့အတွေးစလေးတွေကို ပေါ့ပေါ့ပါးပါး ချရေးသွားမယ့် နေရာလေးတစ်ခုပါ။ ​

A collection of journals written in the quietest hours, during the loudest cries no one ever hears. Bleeding ink flows from her heart, engraving pain with every stroke on the page. Page after page is marked with stained tears, a signature of unbearable sorrow. Every fragment of memory is preserved, never forgotten.

Mmmmmm come with me to see if actually obtain any of my goals i set for myself! Currently: i'm restarting my journey from like 3-4 years ago, and i still believe in this stuff so huzzah! I'm setting my goals on being an avian this time around however. Out of curiosity are there any journals for people's mythical journey still active anymore? I remember when i was younger (in like 7th or 8th grade) I would obsess over reading all of the possible ones I could find. My old account got deleted however... So I no longer have access to all of those reading lists :,) Anyways, Enjoy reading this! (or don't- i can't stop you lol)

an epistolary journal | completed

Ten-year-old Aria Hux has a secret. A lot of secrets actually. Secrets no one can know. Because they lead to her heart, her emotions. Emotions are dangerous, people knowing her emotions are even more. So she keeps her heart locked away. Follow Aria and her journal as she navigates through the twists and turns of life and reveals things even she keeps hidden from herself.

This is a journal of my thoughts, showing that I'm not perfect, and just journaling my feelings and state of mind. I will only share a handful because some stuff is just too personal We are human, mental health is real, take care of yourself, don't let the devil control you

{DAILY UPDATES, ACTIVE} start date: may 12th 2026 end date: essentially, i'll just be documenting my weight loss progress and what i'm doing/not doing to try and lose the weight. i used to love reading these stories as a child, now here i am: desperate and trying to find any way to actually lose this weight. if you'd like to join me for this, please do! thank you so much for reading

Digital Journal- supposedly a secret, but no one knows me here anyway. I have no one to share my thoughts and secrets. Instead of looking for someone to whom I can talk to, I decided to share it here instead. Well, this journal is NOT FOR EVERYONE. It's FOR ME. For me to remember where I have been these days during the havoc of world's progression and calamities.This is not an art, it is not poetic nor artistic. It is simply a glimpse of how I've been through.

Beth used to keep a diary and after she lost her old one when the prison was overrun by the dead, she decided to start a new one after her and Noah were freed from Grady Memorial. This is that diary.

My life journey with God Volume 23

a treasure box of words

Amelia never wanted to move to the country. She expected silence, empty roads, and a boring new life far away from everything she knew in Iowa. Instead, she found something much worse. A town where people carry guns like it's normal. A father who starts acting stranger by the day. A school filled with people who feel like they're hiding something. And deep in the woods surrounding the town... something is watching. When Amelia meets Jillian, a quiet girl with too many secrets, everything begins to change. Strange disappearances, late-night warnings, a brutal attack that leaves her father fighting for his life, and the growing feeling that someone-or something-is following her. As Amelia digs deeper, she discovers the truth about the town is far darker than she ever imagined. The police aren't ignoring the crimes. They're distracted by the creatures that come out at night. Now trapped in a nightmare of secrets, fear, and survival, Amelia must decide who she can trust before it's too late. Because once the truth is uncovered, there's no going back. And some secrets were buried for a reason. If you've found this story... Turn back.

A place to share some of my writing

A chaotic diary written by a mentally unstable teenager trying to survive school, relationships, identity and her own thoughts. About friendships, fear, anger, school and all the things I can't say out loud. People here are named after teas and flowers for privacy reasons... or maybe because it's easier to process that way, for they don't actually feel real. (Idk why I'm doing this. Could this be considered a vent..??)