histórias de Nighttimethoughts

Just my sad, depressing thoughts You can vent in the comments if you want

Poems about what I think about, my view of the world, little scenes, everything really. (This is my first ever writing piece on here so please be kind.)

A collection of poems from late nights.

A vivid, surreal dream pulls Alex into a place where nothing stays steady - not faces, not memories, not even the objects on the floor. It begins with their mother's embrace, a hug so intense it feels like it sets their skull on fire. Old heartbreaks and unspoken pain rise up instantly, mixing into the scenery around them. When a bat appears, their mom panics, yelling, "Get it, Alex!" even though Alex can't see anything. A pan of rice lies spilled on the ground for no reason at all, like the dream dropped pieces of real life in the wrong places. Then the world twists again - blunts fall to the floor, cookies appear from nowhere, familiar people morph into strangers, and Michael Jordan's mother becomes Robin Williams in an instant. A baby replaces a book. A knife wraps itself around Alex's hand without warning. Each shift pulls Alex deeper into something emotional, something their mind hasn't finished battling. Surreal and unsettling, the dream becomes a maze of old grief, fear of loss, confusion, and a longing for clarity. This is a story about confronting the things buried under years of pain - in a world where even the smallest detail, like a pan of rice on the floor, says more than words ever could.

Fragments of hope, Fragments of lies, A tale of sorrow, And a lot of goodbyes. ------------------------------------------- Cover picture does NOT belong to me. Also, none of the pictures are mine...if you find out who ANY of the lovely artists are, tell me! Or I could/probably will find out myself...*going through editing* *experimenting here though...

A nostalgic peek into the innocent mind of 5-year-old Rhea - lying in her mother's lap under a glowing moonlit sky, wondering where the moon's switch is and whether it ever gets tired. This short story captures a tender childhood moment filled with curiosity, warmth, and a mother's soft, loving replies. A reminder of simpler times, endless questions, and the magic of a mother's touch under the stars.

This will be some of the things that go through my mind at night or when I'm alone or when something happened to cause my mind to rant. I'm putting it in writing as a sort of release and I hope you all like it if not it's okay I don't mind this is just for me to vent and rant about things on my mind. You dont have to read this if you don't want to seriously. But if you do read and you somehow feel a connection towards it let me know I'm not much of a formal speaker but when it comes to deep thoughts I can be so bare with me if you hate the way my writing sounds lol If you have any questions or comments feel free to ask or if you want to just talk then that's cool too my instagram is the same as my wattpad and will never change

All I want in life is for someone to listen to me like I listen to everyone else. This is that "someone". so please just listen that is all I want. And if you find yourself in a troubling position and need some one to talk to please feel free to message me. but all I ask is that you listen......

*TRIGGER WARNING* These short stories may mention suicide, SA, NSFW, mental illness, SH, or EDs. Please read with your own discretion. These are the things I lie awake at night thinking about, the things I feel like I cannot talk to anyone about. This is not a perfectly edited collection of works, but it is raw and true. I hope these make you feel something.

Pillow thoughts

When the lights go out and you close your eyes Is the time when your brain Likes to tell lies

7/1/18

"Asking for death is easy as soon death is on its way You don't want it "

Day-time thoughts, night-time thoughts.

Read the title

Someone somewhere is pouring their feelings out on paper. They take the paper and put it in a bottle and throw it out to sea. Life and all memories are just as fleeting as this bottle.

I love metaphors and so one night in what I would call the "height of my depression" I tried describing what my life felt like and this is more or less what I thought of.