LETTERS TO YOUR GRAVE
- Odsłon 732
- Głosy 36
- Części 28
W trakcie2h 8m
Ostatnia publikacja niedz., lis 7, 2021
"I've always wondered as a child while attending funerals, 'Why do people grief? What is sorrow? Why do people feel guilt? Why do they look so sad? Doesn't the pain pass along with the person who passed away? It's not me being heartless is it?' I was just a curious kid. Well, joke's on me. I don't think I can do this anymore without you. When I think of the future, you're absent. You were supposed to be here with me. We could've made more memories, we could've lived together and grow old together. We could've...yeah..we could've..we can't...not anymore. Tell me you heard my apologies. Tell me I'll be okay. I guess I could wait, just for a little bit more. Yeah..I guess I could. Please Kaz, send me a miracle. Kaz, I'm so so so sorry.
Your Lover,
Emaya June."
.
.
And as she folded the letter, the storm outside grew harsh. It thundered so loud. Ironic, the Skye family had just moved. And amongst the chaotic and loving family was an eighteen year old boy who goes by the name of Raidyn Skye. A miracle huh?
•⚠️TRIGGER WARNING⚠️
[This WILL contain, swear words, mentions of depression, self harm and suicide.]
•[Started on 30th July 2021]
•[Ended on 7th November 2021]
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Content Warning: This story contains themes of abuse, mental illness, blood, and drug use. Reader discretion is advised. If any of this feels familiar or personal, please know you're not alone. Feeling overwhelmed or emotional doesn't make you weak-it makes you human. If you're going through something and don't have anyone to talk to, you can always message me. My DMs are open on Instagram @thegoob_first. No judgment. Just someone who's willing to listen. ⸻ People say it gets better. That pain is temporary. That if you just "hold on," things will change. But I've been holding on so tight my hands are bleeding, and nothing's changed- except me. I'm thirteen, and I'm already tired. Not just sleepy. I mean tired in my bones. Tired of pretending school matters. Tired of dodging fists and fake smiles. Tired of being the leftover twin. Kevin was the one people loved. The loud one. The brave one. He used to say we were two halves of the same storm. But he's gone. Drowned in a river we weren't supposed to be near. And I'm still here. Alone. Sometimes I wonder if the wrong twin died. And some days, I know it. My mom won't look at me the same. My dad's fists speak louder than his words. And me? I gave up a long time ago. So I did what you're not supposed to do. I ended it. Only-I didn't. Because I woke up. Again. Same day. Same weight in my chest. Same pain. Now I can't even die right. But then I met her. Skye. And suddenly, dying isn't the hardest part anymore. Living is.Zakończone
BORDERLINE (18+)
ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴꜱ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴀʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ? 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 is officially at rock bottom. Her moods are unpredictable, her impulses reckless and healing feels like a mountain too steep to climb. She's forced to leave her wild and carefree university student life behind. June struggles to come to terms with her diagnosis. Finding herself living with estranged mother in a quiet and unfamiliar seaside town, where the silence makes everything louder. 𝐎𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞 knows what it means to lose someone slowly, and then all at once. Grief sharpened him into something rough. His tattoos are his armour, humour and charm his defences. He learned the hard way that loving someone sick can destroy you. Together they are a wildfire. Intoxicating and comforting, finding refuge in each other. As their lives collide, the line between love and self destruction blurs. Healing and falling into old pattens are balancing a tight rope. And some wounds refuse to heal quietly. "By the time you are reading this, I'm gone." 𝐴𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙, 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑖 𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑? A story about loving someone at their worst, and what that might cost. - Slowburn angst - Smut warning (and kink) (𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞). 🏅2 in Moving Forward 🏅5 in Love & Loss
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Content Warning: This story contains themes of abuse, mental illness, blood, and drug use. Reader discretion is advised. If any of this feels familiar or personal, please know you're not alone. Feeling overwhelmed or emotional doesn't make you weak-it makes you human. If you're going through something and don't have anyone to talk to, you can always message me. My DMs are open on Instagram @thegoob_first. No judgment. Just someone who's willing to listen. ⸻ People say it gets better. That pain is temporary. That if you just "hold on," things will change. But I've been holding on so tight my hands are bleeding, and nothing's changed- except me. I'm thirteen, and I'm already tired. Not just sleepy. I mean tired in my bones. Tired of pretending school matters. Tired of dodging fists and fake smiles. Tired of being the leftover twin. Kevin was the one people loved. The loud one. The brave one. He used to say we were two halves of the same storm. But he's gone. Drowned in a river we weren't supposed to be near. And I'm still here. Alone. Sometimes I wonder if the wrong twin died. And some days, I know it. My mom won't look at me the same. My dad's fists speak louder than his words. And me? I gave up a long time ago. So I did what you're not supposed to do. I ended it. Only-I didn't. Because I woke up. Again. Same day. Same weight in my chest. Same pain. Now I can't even die right. But then I met her. Skye. And suddenly, dying isn't the hardest part anymore. Living is.
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