Falling From My Fingers

Falling From My Fingers

  • WpView
    Leituras 16
  • WpVote
    Votos 0
  • WpPart
    Capítulos 8
WpMetadataReadMaduroEm andamento<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeÚltima atualização sex, ago 4, 2023
WpInfo
Poesia
"Everything I should have said falling from my fingertips instead of my mouth." The 18 year old girl who wrote this felt everything so deeply. She was an ocean of feeling, aching to be heard. The 23 year old woman who is trying to continue writing now, has no idea how to express herself, she is dried up like an abandoned well. She has no voice. (Everything written here is unedited, cringeworthy, and dramatic. Changing it would be an injustice to my inner drama queen) It's important to note that none of what's written here could be considered actual poetry. I have no idea how to write poetry.
Todos os Direitos Reservados
Junte-se a maior comunidade de histórias do mundoTenha recomendações personalizadas, guarde as suas histórias favoritas na sua biblioteca e comente e vote para expandir a sua comunidade.
Illustration

Talvez você também goste

  • Release
  • Stale Words
  • The Days With No Sun
  • The Girl with No Emotions
  • My vampire mate  (currently re-writing)
  • Emotional Amnesia
  • Can You Not: A Series Of Poems Written From Memories Of A Semi Hurtful Past
  • A Diary of Soul (Unedited Version)
  • incomprehensible thoughts
  • constantly blooming.
Release

This is a collection of my writing from the past 7 years. Before I started to write, I was a very lost individual, as are most teens, but I was lost in darkness. I was too afraid to move anywhere at all. I hid in the dark, debilitated by my own anxiety, sadnesses, anger, and hopelessness. I was desperate to be loved and feared it the most, I was a coward, I was self-destructive, I would mentally bend my thoughts to the point of bordering insanity. I was born into this world alone, and got too comfortable with it. Maybe I still am, but a fraction of what I used to be. This writing is extremely vulnerable, and potentially disturbing to others, as all my weaknesses, strengths, obsessions with making every moment sentimental, the sickening desperation I've had, the destructiveness, and the constant brutal reconstruction of my mind. Without guidance, it's been absolute intense chaos. Though, there is beauty in the darkness. Everything can be found in the darkness. You'll find that through my writing, I've somehow slowly become exactly what I've written. A living representation of my writing and what I wanted to be. Without myself even knowing it. A lot of my writing themes are based around nature, or some kind of natural aspect. The imagery I paint with natural metaphors is constant, the animals, just like you and I, the plants, and all other living things. I planted these seeds in my mind, unknowingly at the time, where I now feel the deep dark green jungle pressing at the inner walls of my skull. It's all that I want to consume my mind. There's so much to learn. The magic of nature, and it's infinite wisdom. It's as if I have been on this path all along, and I didn't even know what I was doing, yet my body and mind were passively taking care of me. Giving me and eventually showing exactly what I want, and wanted to become. I have every moment, every instance of suffering, and every epiphany to be thankful for. Soon, I'll be at peace from the raging storm.

Mais detalhes
WpActionLinkDiretrizes de Conteúdo