Lostyouth Stories

In Ehloschar everything seems perfect. In Mohabar nothing is as it seems. In Tehabir the skies are burning. In Al-Rashid the people fear. Follow us into the world of Debris, a collection of fractions left behind retrieved out of the minds of the lost youth. Hello lovely, I just wanted to say that English isn't my first language, so feel free to let me know if there are any errors -- still is enough if it is pointed out once. Feel free to pint out angels you like or disprove with. all rights belong to me

Shawn Winston Lavallez has mastered the art of survival-hiding bruises behind forced smiles, carrying the weight of a broken home, and keeping his secrets buried beneath a carefully built facade. At school, he blends into the noise of friendships and laughter, but deep inside, he is haunted by the past and terrified of being exposed. Everything changes when he crosses paths with April Gelonga-bright, composed, and seemingly untouchable. Their worlds couldn't be more different, yet fate ties them together through an unexpected project that slowly unravels the walls Shawn has built. But in a life where pain lurks behind every door, can Shawn find peace, faith, and love-or will his secrets consume him before he discovers that he was never meant to face the darkness alone? A story of scars, survival, and second chances, this novel explores how even the most broken hearts can still learn to love and be loved.

Why do we laugh it away? When it's actually real? * Please be aware that this is mostly sad things* _________________________________________ Honestly, I don't even know why I made this "book", I guess I just have a lot of thoughts and ideas to share. Earlier name:"I don't even know" ( I started to write on another books, but I'll just put the poems/shortStories/qoutes here😅)

Just some thoughts from a dying soul.

In an attempt to recapture some lost youth, a man attends a show at an illegal band venue. To his surprise, the lead singer of the band ASP resembles a woman he saw front a band twenty years ago.

Sonnets remembering youth. He was just a kid for a long time there in the sun and shade. The years marinate together. Eventually he sometimes writes a sonnet sort of recalling what had been, or how it had seemed, or what he'd almost touched.