Jumbled Stories

Isabella's past haunts her. Needing answers to questions which she couldn't have while she lived a sheltered past Izzy finally leaves her town to chase her demons. Little does she knows they will welcome her with open arms. #A mafia novel

this is something I've thought about posting for a while. and I ended up doing it because what's in this describes how I feel. and this is about someone and it may be confusing but.. yeah... it's feelings. so it's jumbled up.

These are my jumbled thoughts unleashed, unedited and unfiltered. These are my words, my truth, myself - for you, and for me.

Everything I have out there has been through editors and agents and rights and permissions. This will just be a collection of my thoughts- jumbled or organized, edited or unedited. Sometimes a writer just needs a bowl to puke her words into.

Sequel to Words Better Left Unspoken

Random midnight memories and deep thoughts. Rants. True hidden messages for some people but this time they're not from my characters; they're directly from me. A place where I can freely and openly contradict myself. Don't expect this to make sense. -------------------- All rights go to the original owner of the photo.

A collection of jumbled thoughts and flaws for nobody in particular.

Spring writes messages for Winter. Winter hides his from Spring. A collection of poems that may or may not be in order. Cover by julixnx-

To tell you how I survived can be difficult. It's all mixed up. My memories smear and ruffle. I can't really see my life in order anymore. The only place I can think to start is here where I am now.

to accept, to release, to breathe and be free is tantalizing in itself.

To whom it may concern: This is not a fan fiction, a heroic tale, or a historical peice of art. This is my diary of sorts. I will type senseless words, stories, and secrets in the hopes of documenting the life that is my own. The things I write on here won't always be appropriate, moral, or entertaining. This is my life. Who I am. So welcome to my mind.

"I'm not saying that I'm romanticizing my life. How can I make something better when I like it , the way it is." My first ever poem collection. Basically random poems about random people. Not a single one of is about me. Cover by @Lady-Emerald Also available as a blog at : https://starryeyedverses.wordpress.com/ ( but they're different.) Copyright © 2018 Zaquira L.C

let my brain freak you out 4:44 a.m

Suffocate | 'sûfû,kāt | die or cause to die from lack of air or inability to breathe have or cause to have difficulty in breathing feel or cause to feel trapped or oppressed

In which this author makes a tag book cus she doesn't want to overfill her story with tags. A.k.a. a fancy name for a jumble of tags.

this is my home. a safe place that is my forest. in the middle of it is where shall you find me. there is where i find my peace. maybe, should you find yours there too. // a bunch of compiled thoughts and poems, ranging from themes of attraction to heavy rainy days. this is what happens beneath tall scattered trees.

Some kids think that getting up on a Monday morning is difficult. Well, i second that. BUT, Imagine, spending the whole summer at a camp for troubled teens, being assigned to a personal counsler, Falling for him, and then coming back into your classroom on Monday morning only to find that the camp counsler you fell for, is you're new teacher. Yeah. That Monday Just got a whole lot worse.