The Unseen Scars
- LECTURAS 10
- Votos 0
- Partes 3
Continúa5m
Última publicación vie, jun 27, 2025
My life hasn't been a fairytale. It's been a quiet struggle, marked by a deep unhappiness and a gnawing feeling of unworthiness. The desire for love to give it and to receive it is a constant ache, but it's often overshadowed by a belief that I'm somehow undeserving. I tell myself I don't deserve to be loved, that I'm not worthy of happiness, and that persistent voice makes it hard to believe otherwise. It's a heavy weight to carry, this feeling of being fundamentally flawed, of not quite measuring up.
But there are moments, precious fleeting moments, when the weight lifts. It happens when I'm hiking through a forest, the sunlight dappling through the leaves, or sitting by the ocean, listening to the waves crash against the shore. In those wild, beautiful spaces, I find a kind of peace, a temporary escape from the relentless self-criticism. It's not a permanent fix, not a cure, but it's enough to keep me going, to remind me that there's beauty in the world, even when I can't seem to find it within myself.
I'm searching for a path, a direction, a place where I can finally feel whole. A place where the emptiness inside doesn't feel so vast, where the loneliness doesn't feel so crushing. I don't know what that place looks like, or if I'll ever truly find it, but the hope remains, a stubborn little ember in the darkness. Maybe it's about learning to love myself, to accept the parts of me that feel broken, to forgive myself for the things I've done and haven't done. Maybe it's about finding people who see past the flaws and see the good, the potential, the person I long to be. Whatever it is, I'm on the journey, and that's something. 🦋💙
Todos los derechos reservados
Únete a la comunidad narrativa más grandeObtén recomendaciones personalizadas de historias, guarda tus favoritas en tu biblioteca, y comenta y vota para hacer crecer tu comunidad.
Quizás también te guste
Resilience
I never planned on telling my story. Truth is, I've spent most of my life holding it in, swallowing the pain, laughing off the shade, putting on a mask when deep down I was fighting battles no one could see. But the older I got, the more I realized silence can eat you alive. And if I don't tell it raw and unfiltered, then who will? This book isn't polished for perfection. It's not sugarcoated, it's not dressed up to make anyone comfortable. It's me, The struggles, the lessons, the laughter, the embarrassing moments, the heartbreaks, the love, the shady comebacks, the nights I thought I wouldn't make it, and the mornings I woke up ready to fight again. I named this book Resilience because that's exactly what my life has been about. No matter how many times I was knocked down by people I loved, by family pressure, by toxic love, by my own mistakes, I got back up. Bruised, maybe. Bitter, sometimes. But never broken. So if you're holding this book, know this is, you're not reading some perfect fairytale. You're stepping into my world. One filled with chaos, comedy, culture, love, and pain that shaped me into the person I am today. And maybe, just maybe, you'll find pieces of yourself in these pages too. This is my story. Raw. Real. Resilient.
beneath her shadow
I didn't know I was disappearing until it was almost too late. At first, it was subtle. A missed call here. A joke at my expense there. A delay in responding, followed by a grand explanation that made me feel silly for even asking. You start to wonder if you're imagining things-if your skin has grown too thin, or if the world has always been this cold and you just never noticed. But no, this is different. This is targeted. This is personal. He came to me like a storm pretending to be sunlight. Charming, magnetic, wounded-how I mistook those wounds as something that needed my healing. I didn't know then that narcissistic abuse doesn't always arrive screaming. Sometimes, it tiptoes in wearing the face of love. He said all the right things at the right time, until I stopped trusting my own sense of wrong. The highs were dizzying: he told me I was everything. Special. Unlike anyone he had ever met. He made me feel chosen. And so, I stayed-even when the lows scraped at my bones, even when the words grew sharp and the silence louder than his rage. I didn't see the cage being built because I was too busy decorating it, thinking I was safe inside. The thing about narcissistic pain is that it often masquerades as longing. You ache not just for the person-but for the version of yourself you were when they first looked at you like you mattered. You miss the illusion. You miss the fantasy. And worst of all, you blame yourself when it shatters.Concluida
THAT ONE NIGHT LOVE
It was just one night. One room. No promises. No confessions. Just two people- who should've walked away. But something about the way they looked at each other... The way silence held more meaning than words ever could... Made that night less of a mistake and more of a memory neither body could forget. Now, two years later, they're back. In the same city. Under different names. Carrying the same ache. She has someone new. He almost moved on. But love doesn't always announce itself- sometimes it just lingers. What happens when: - a closed room remembers what the world forced them to forget? - bodies touch again, but hearts hesitate harder? - one mug, one bed, one white shirt brings everything rushing back? "Unfinished things don't die. They wait. In bedrooms like this - with people like us." 🌙 A poetic, slow-burn Hinglish story. Of what was never said, what was never supposed to happen, and what still might - if they dare. Read if you like: ✨ Emotionally mature tension ✨ Silent glances louder than love letters ✨ Bedroom intimacy with poetic restraint ✨ Chapters that feel like old voice notes you never deleted 📌 New Chapters Every day 📍 Instagram + Wattpad Exclusives 💬 Comment "I've been there" if you've ever left a room and still felt touchedConcluida
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.Concluida
Learning to live beyond survival
Harper grew up in the foster care system, learning early that love could be temporary and anger could feel safer than sadness. By seventeen she was working full-time, surviving on five dollars and self-reliance, while everyone else her age was out living freely. Unlearning Survival is the story of what happens after survival mode stops working. It's about confronting anger, setting boundaries, and learning how to give yourself the care no one else taught you. This story is based on my own lived experiences. Some names, locations, and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved. Certain events are written from memory, which may differ from how others remember them. Every emotion, experience, and truth shared here comes from my perspective from what I lived, felt, and saw. My intention is not to harm or blame anyone, but to give voice to the child I once was and to others who have lived through similar experiences. Thank you for reading my story with kindness and respect. Through honesty and reflection, Harper shares how childhood pain shaped her reactions, her relationships, and her view of love and how she's learning to turn that fire into calm. Her voice is raw but hopeful, revealing that growth isn't about perfection. It's about choosing peace, even when chaos feels familiar. This is a story for anyone who's ever been called "too much," anyone who's had to grow up too soon, and anyone learning that healing isn't pretty but it's possible.Concluida
A Garden of Dead Things
This book is my life laid bare - a story of pain, loneliness, and mental chaos that most people don't see. It's about the slow, unbearable unravelling of a mind caught in the grips of depression, anxiety, trauma, and heartbreak. There's no sugarcoating here. No fairy tales or hopeful endings. This is a glimpse into what it feels like to be completely lost inside yourself, where every day is a battle to hold on, even when you don't know what you're holding onto anymore. I write about the nights filled with overwhelming silence that screams louder than any words. About the weight of memories and pain so heavy it crushes the light out of your life. This story doesn't shy away from the darkest parts: the thoughts that haunt you, the self-hate that grows quietly, the invisible scars left by emotional abuse and trauma. It's about fighting to survive when it feels like there's nothing left inside you but broken pieces. But more than that, it's about the truth of living with a mind that doesn't always want to be healed, a heart that keeps breaking even when you try to protect it, and a soul that longs for peace but only finds pain. I'm not telling this story for sympathy or comfort. I'm telling it because this is real. Because sometimes, the only way to breathe is to say out loud what hurts the most. If you're tired of pretending everything's okay, if you've ever felt like no one truly understands the storm inside your head, then this book is for you. It's not easy to read - but it's real, and it's mine. Welcome to my garden of dead things.
Tethered
Bright lights, the beat of the music beneath my feet. Distant chatter, quite whispers. The feeling of joy, loss, heartbreak, and loneliness surround me. Buried in a crowd, drowning under the gazes of people who look through you. I am but of glass, a mirror if you will, willing to be seen through, but not seen. Screaming in a room full of people when no one can hear you, let alone see you. Hidden breaths, rising, falling. Isn't that funny, falling? Laughing would be easier than standing here in the crowded place, filled with people, faces, judging every moment the other makes. I could tell you the peace I get standing alone in a room filled with people who only see you as a mirror for who they don't want to be. I could cry tears of blood, and non would ever so much bat an eye in my direction, but I love it. The feeling of being unseen as to appose being seen for the matieral object I once was. Silent, unmoving, unwilling. I am but an idea, glass, shatterable, broken beyond compare. But strong, resistance flows through me. Willing me to be the best I can be, but can I? Who says I make sense, who says I am even me, am I? That's a question I spent years wondering. Who would I be without these scars that tether my skin, marking each even, like a calender. To mend the feelings people have isn't a easy thing, but to break is easy, always easy. How easy it is to forget, to run. I can feel the ground beneath my feet, feel the soil in-between the crooks of my toes, I could describe to you the smell of the rain. Pinpoint the center of the earth, but as I stand here, again amongst the crowd of people stand in this room. I am lost again, an idea, but for what purpose? If I could run, navigate my way through this crowd, I would seek refuge somewhere dark and cold, where I could take off this cloak and be one with who I am, or want to be.
Not me. (2023)
so, I've been struggling for a long time now, and I never told anyone about it. I've never opened up. but I met someone who understands how I feel, and I'm beginning to feel again. I don't know how to do it, but I finally feel I can fight. I've been so exhausted. I'm not better, I'm not sure if i ever will be, but I'm not numb, not entirely. I can't say how I'm feeling, or what i am going to write, but if you want it, it's here. This is for you. For everyone who was made to be the villain by those meant to be by their sides. For everyone with a sensitive heart made to grow strong much too quickly. For everyone who struggles to get out of bed in the morning. For everyone who never could find the words to say why. For everyone who struggles to feel and for everyone who feels too much. For everyone who had to pick themselves back up. For everyone who had to parent themselves. For everyone fighting an invisible battle. For everyone who has been underestimated. For everyone who has to flee to other worlds to cope. For everyone who found other means to silence their voices. For everyone who was silenced. For everyone who was over powered. For everyone who was made to be less. For everyone who had to watch someone else suffer and stay silent. For everyone asking themselves, why? Why would you do this? What did I do? Why is this happening to me? It was never your fault.Concluida
Wings of deceit
A tale of love not told in the light, but a tale told in the shadows. Of broken chains and bleeding hearts learning how to beat again. Once a slave, always a slave. It didn't matter how much you'd like to deny the fact; it wasn't possible. One couldn't outrun fate and time itself. No one was born free. So why did everyone seek freedom, despite knowing it was unobtainable? The reason was simple: because it hurt to live being chained. Building trust with a person who has known hell itself all their life wasn't bound to be easy or pretty. Hidden beneath the layers can hide the cruelest things. A past a person would want to forever bury. He wore a mask to survive. But what happens when someone sees through it? 'He was supposed to be a savior. Instead, he unearthed every buried scar that I swore no one would ever see.' For a moment he hated having his scars being unveiled. But after a while, he noticed that wasn't the case. ------------ This story explores themes of trauma, emotional healing, and much more sensitive themes. Reader discretion is advised. (If you read all this you can skip the part that says: "Part I: Unearthing buried scars.")
Atlantis Academy: The First Element
Five Star Reviews for Atlantis Academy: "Omg this book was amazing I couldn't put it down or stop reading. I carried it with me open on my phone while I did everything just to keep reading. I need more of all of this. Epic story, epic content, epic visuals, just epic. LOVE THIS!" "Once I got into this story, I did not stop reading it. This is a beautiful story about a very awkward girl who is riven with so much pain and angst and yet... this makes her who she is and shapes her into the person she will become. The world she finds herself awakened to is magical and yet filled with the all-too-familiar cliques and tribes of the very human people who inhabit it. One word to describe the story: beautiful!" "The story pulls you headlong to the end and leaves you wanting to shout "No! Not yet!" ...If there were 6 stars, I would have given it that." *** Humanity is one secret society away from extinction. The children of Atlantis use magic to keep us safe. If they make it through the Academy. Hi, I'm Lyric. And I'm kind of a mess. ADHD, that's me. I'm a high school drop-out, late everywhere I go, and one screw-up away from being homeless. I'm a loner, and I like it that way. Who needs friends when you have a Redwood forest nearby? Trees never bully me like the kids did at school. Or get drunk and throw things at my head. After my mom died, I figured life couldn't get much worse. I thought it might even get better. Ha. The universe has a great sense of humor. I should've listened to the rumors about evil spirits. About the angry, ancient magical creatures haunting our small Oregon Coast town. But did I? No. That was my first mistake. And it might be my last. 'Cause now I'm in a battle for my life. A whole new world has opened up... a magical world I don't understand. And the blood in my veins says I belong here. But I have to prove myself to save myself. And when have I ever done that?Concluida
I never planned on telling my story. Truth is, I've spent most of my life holding it in, swallowing the pain, laughing off the shade, putting on a mask when deep down I was fighting battles no one could see. But the older I got, the more I realized silence can eat you alive. And if I don't tell it raw and unfiltered, then who will? This book isn't polished for perfection. It's not sugarcoated, it's not dressed up to make anyone comfortable. It's me, The struggles, the lessons, the laughter, the embarrassing moments, the heartbreaks, the love, the shady comebacks, the nights I thought I wouldn't make it, and the mornings I woke up ready to fight again. I named this book Resilience because that's exactly what my life has been about. No matter how many times I was knocked down by people I loved, by family pressure, by toxic love, by my own mistakes, I got back up. Bruised, maybe. Bitter, sometimes. But never broken. So if you're holding this book, know this is, you're not reading some perfect fairytale. You're stepping into my world. One filled with chaos, comedy, culture, love, and pain that shaped me into the person I am today. And maybe, just maybe, you'll find pieces of yourself in these pages too. This is my story. Raw. Real. Resilient.
Más detallesPautas de Contenido