Story cover for Hurt by KaydeWilkes5
Hurt
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Ongoing, First published Apr 10, 2019
They don't write about women like me. I don't mean women like me as in a plain woman who studies and lives life day by day. I mean women like me who don't know what it's like to not hurt. Whether it's emotional or physical. All I know is that it hurts. They don't write about women like me because people don't want to hear about something they don't understand. They don't write about women like me because they think it's your fault. They don't write about women like me because you could have left. They don't write about women like me because I knew what I was getting into. They don't write about women like me because women like me are dead. They don't write about women like me because best sellers aren't based on women who die a boring death. They don't write about women like me because women like me don't have a voice. But now they will write about women like me because I don't want to hurt anymore.
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Trapped in my Worst Novel

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Protagonists, the most important characters in stories. They're the ones that are supposed to save the world and be a symbol of hope for humanity, the ones that can defeat anything in their way if they want to, the ones whom the reader wants to win and succeed... ...Well atleast thats how a good heroic protagonist should be. I wrote three novels after dropping out of college at 20 years old. My first novel was a disaster, boring characters, recycled plot, and a protagonist so rude even I wanted to punch them. The next two? Absolutely amazing and really well-liked. I was ready to quit writing for good when i suddenly got hit by a car and woke up in someone else's body, someone i don't recognize at all, who goes to the exact same school from my first novel. Yeah. That happened, i'm screwed. Great. Now I'm stuck in a world full of arrogant, clueless students. Why couldn't i have entered one of my better stories?! And if that's not enough, the soul of this body won't stop yelling at me to "give their body back", as if i could do that, while a tiny version of them sits on my left shoulder and a tiny version of my 19 year old self from my past life rides the right shoulder. What even is happening anymore? Sigh...