UN-SAID
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I have never been a person who has been open about my feeling, my thoughts and my words to anyone. I know everyone might think that I am an INTROVERT well guess what I am ans I am not afraid or anything about it. I enjoy my life that way but sometime I feel heavy like heart heavy the thing i feel the things i do makes no sense to me but deep down I know there is something that has happened to me to make me feel or think that way and I cant tell anyone or say it to anyone. Its just who I am but something never last so this is where i pour out my heart and feelings.
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My Demon Mate (BoyxBoy)
I knew I was a freak, I'm weird not stupid - even if I did act like it half the time. It wasn’t normal to be like me, to be afraid of things everyone loves, needs to survive even. I had always been afraid of it for some reason, among other things of course; I would rather die than have to face my fear. Everyone knew it but no one cared though did they? I was just another stupid kid in this stupid foster home. Another stupid kid that had been ‘dumped’ and no one wanted. At least, that's what I thought.Concluída
Echo of the Past
A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.Concluída
Just Okay
We've all been through ups and downs in life and not all of us can speak our minds. I'm not the kind of person that can just talk to anyone about my thoughts and problems. No I can't talk to anyone because no one knows what's going on in my life. I've tried talking to people but it just seems impossible for them to understand. My life isn't completely shit, but it's close. It's not the people in my life, it's not the things they do, it's just me and my mind.Concluída
Hollow
I'm a Hollow. That's what they call us. I don't feel enough emotion to make judgements about people and there's really no way for me to feel much more. I can read people much easier than I can feel, but I can't feel sympathy for any of them. I can have people that can love me and I won't be able to love them back. I don't even know if being a Hollow is bad.Concluída
My friend, Demise
Every sound in my world is amplified due to the silence. Every footstep, every ticking clock in every classroom, every pen that clicks or drops to the floor, every little sharp sound is so loud in my head that it pisses me off. I also don't do well under pressure, but I'm always trying so hard to calm down that it puts me under even more pressure. I only know two emotions and have my whole life. I've only ever been those two. I don't get sad, I don't feel happy or exited. I'm either angry or unbearably lonely. I'm grade school, some kids thought I was the devil. I'm not. I'm just....I'm just different. So don't go around thinking I'm some kind of demon, okay?!Concluída
Unique
I am lying down in the class room bleeding; but no one pays attention to me. I gasp for air and try to speak so someone can look down to me. Nothing comes out I try to move but no one pays attention they just stare straight ahead paying attention to the lecture at hand. I start to cry out loud and cry out help but no one cares….no one cares.Concluída
My Hater, My Lover (Book One)
I'm slammed hard into a locker. I lose all ability to fight back. I've been down this road too many times to count. I close my eyes, wishing myself anywhere else but here. I expect the typical hit to the stomach, but instead I get the warm pressure of lips against mine. My eyes shoot open. I try to pull away but his hold on me is too strong. I cry out but I can't help hate myself by how good it feels. His kiss is tender and sweet. His tongue pushes into my mouth and my wrists are held above my head. When did my hater become my lover? Book two of the story can be found in my works, "Speed Demon Billionaire"!Concluída
Immortal (boy x boy)
My life has always been terrible. I was always bullied at school. I don't know why, it just seemed that people didn't like my presence. The guys would beat me up and I'd get in trouble when I defended myself, for the teachers never saw what they did. The girls would trick me, making me think they liked me and laughing at me because of it. I was always in the principle's office for one reason or another, but I wasn't a bad student. I actually got really good grades. To make matters worse, my mother wanted nothing to do with me. She'd lock me in the basement, sometimes for days, with no food or warmth. My father would then sneak down and beat me before raping me. So, naturally, I wanted to die. But, for some reason, I can't die. No matter what I do, I can't stay dead. The thing I want more than anything is far out of my reach. Why can't I just die? Warning: mention of rape, suicide, and abuse. Also, this is a boy's love story.Concluída
I knew I was a freak, I'm weird not stupid - even if I did act like it half the time. It wasn’t normal to be like me, to be afraid of things everyone loves, needs to survive even. I had always been afraid of it for some reason, among other things of course; I would rather die than have to face my fear. Everyone knew it but no one cared though did they? I was just another stupid kid in this stupid foster home. Another stupid kid that had been ‘dumped’ and no one wanted. At least, that's what I thought.
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