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- Parts 16
At this point it's not even poetry, just a journal of very angsty feelings. Again, written over the course of like, a week, from when I was fifteen
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From my mind to ink
Season 1116 parts- Season 216 parts
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Words Fail (A Poem Collection)
Teenage life is full of drama, in a moment we feel we're on cloud nine then in a blink of an eye we're down rock bottom. This phase is a treacherous journey, a dwindling mercurial high, which somehow leads us to two roads, either we will find ourselves or lost a part of it. It's thrilling yet scary for we feel happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time. Words failed me in matters of the heart, so instead I wrote all my bottled up mix of emotions of love, hate, jealousy, fondness, passion, and epiphany. Writing these poems gave a whole new perspective of what love means to me, back then I was so repulsed by the idea of unriquitted love for it was happening to me at that moment. I didn't knew how to handle the unsettling feeling of knowing that I'm being rejected even though he didn't even said a single word about it yet. My notes app became my therapist that time, typing unspoken words I wished I've said while getting lost in my own thoughts. So to the boy who inspired me to write these poems, here goes nothing.Complete
October.
welcome to this story. i don't really know what it is yet - maybe it's a love story, maybe it's a confession, maybe it's just pages full of everything i couldn't say out loud. i didn't plan on writing this. it didn't start with a perfect idea or a cup of coffee or one of those playlists that make you cry at 2am. it started with her. with the stories we used to make up at night - the kind you whisper before falling asleep, soft and half-real. it became a tradition, something small but ours. she once told me i should post them on wattpad. i laughed it off. and when everything ended, i thought... why not? so i wrote this. not to bring her back, but to remember what it felt like when words still meant us. when everything was new and fragile and maybe too much. when love didn't start in a crowded room, but in a glowing screen, where two people who were never supposed to meet somehow did - through an app, a message, a spark that became a story. i wrote it like someone trying to hold on and let go at the same time. like someone who keeps rewriting moments in their head, wondering if things could've been different. this isn't perfect. it won't have clean chapters or a happy ending tied with a bow. it's about feeling too much and saying too little. about loving someone quietly and wondering if they ever noticed. about the distance between what we feel and what we dare to say. and now you're here. reading this. which means maybe, just maybe, you've felt this too. maybe you've loved someone who was never really yours. maybe you've turned your pain into fiction just to make it hurt less. maybe you understand. so... welcome. to the story that wasn't supposed to be a story. to the chaos and the softness and the things left unsaid. so welcome to the story where Gio meets Élise through an app - and what starts as curiosity turns into something raw, magnetic, and impossible to name. where midnight messages become confessions, and distance becomes both a wall and a thread.
What I Once Called Love: The Drafts
This is my story, or rather a compilation of stories that spans more than a decade. Each piece is written from a place of truth with the exception of the names mentioned. The book itself will broken into sections, with each representing a different moment of my life that was instrumental in helping me define what love is and what it is not. This is a handful of chapters available for preview. Keep in mind, these pieces are drafts so they are in no way perfect so please be patient with me. I would love your feedback though so send in your comments and thoughts. I appreciate it!Complete
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.Complete
An extract from a book i'll never write | Poetry |
Just a lonely teenager in love, struggeling with emotions and wanting the end to come sooner rather than later :( i want to love but i just dont want to hurt them if i love one then i will hurt the other. So please forgive me, i can't hold back my emotions anymore for them <3Complete
Red Words
A collection of my thoughts. This book has been a cumulative journal over the course of nearly 2 years. The poetry ranges from very good, to poor. However it all reflects how inspired I felt during the designated time. Be kind and enjoy.Complete
missing assignments
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Just Jenny
Just a glimpse into my mind. Or if you want a better synopsis, read below. I like to type out my feelings into poems with no actual structure. I hope to make you laugh sometime and even cry because I just do. Warning: these come from angsty teenager Jenny. (Formally: Jenny's Poetry, Short Things, Words From A Teenager, Somewhere Over The (Glorified) Rainbow.) The posts are short so it shouldn't take a long time to read. I really did try to use proper grammar. Sometimes. Okay, fine. It's rare-ish.Complete
The Days With No Sun
Sometimes we fear truth over reality. But things get dark and heavy and we play the blame game. We end up hurting others or ourselves even. We don't think before we act or we don't say before we do. This is the evolution of my madness. A cluster of rants and thoughts and poems for you guys. Everything is written how I wanted it to be rants will be long with few pauses and there will be mistakes I might have skipped over. Aha. Poems at the beginning from when I was 15 years old to now when Im 18. Truly a visual of my writing evolution. Edited by @ChemicalStarling who writes a lot but never posts! Read on, loves. I'll see you on the other side...Complete
Art of Letting Go
" Let your heart grief, It's okay. It will heal eventually." Art of Letting Go captures the raw and authentic emotions of moments, a roller-coaster of feelings, and a definition of life to choose not to give up. This book was to give people a chance to relate themselves to the pages and dip themselves with emotions that involve grief, loss, heartache, abuse, and feeling lost in life. A glimpse of these pages may change someone's life by giving them purpose of hope and shed light in the darkest of their hearts. I wrote the "Art of Letting Go" about 3 years ago without an end because I never knew how to moved on from a chapter that felt like a never-ending cycle. I left the story feeling like it was untold. I found hope and my transfiguration in life to help others in search of the light again. In the experiences, challenges, and struggles that I faced over the years, I had to give this book an ending it deserved. We deserve closure, we deserve our voices and stories to be heard and to be told. After 3 years, I came back to finish a story that needed to be closed and a chapter in my life that needed to heal. I realized that I struggled to finish this because there were parts of myself that couldn't heal from the past. I struggled to break free from the pain and it always kept coming back. I was really lost at some point in life and I came back to re-reading my poems and reflected in them. I found pieces of myself, teaching me that I was already in the process of healing all along. I was fighting all this time. I was resilient from all the storms that I've endured. My point is, YOU are too. Whatever you are going through, your storms will wither away and you will find your ray of light again.Complete
Teenage life is full of drama, in a moment we feel we're on cloud nine then in a blink of an eye we're down rock bottom. This phase is a treacherous journey, a dwindling mercurial high, which somehow leads us to two roads, either we will find ourselves or lost a part of it. It's thrilling yet scary for we feel happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time. Words failed me in matters of the heart, so instead I wrote all my bottled up mix of emotions of love, hate, jealousy, fondness, passion, and epiphany. Writing these poems gave a whole new perspective of what love means to me, back then I was so repulsed by the idea of unriquitted love for it was happening to me at that moment. I didn't knew how to handle the unsettling feeling of knowing that I'm being rejected even though he didn't even said a single word about it yet. My notes app became my therapist that time, typing unspoken words I wished I've said while getting lost in my own thoughts. So to the boy who inspired me to write these poems, here goes nothing.
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