A Voice Amid Solitude
- Reads 38
- Votes 0
- Parts 4
When we were young, the sky felt as if it was within our reach, It felt like we were weightless, only bound by our own will. The world was our playground and only the sky's were the limit, living life with ambition in our hearts and hope in our minds, not weighed down by anything. The smallest of victories seemed massive and failures just ment try again. But now the failures is all we can think of, they haunt us like ghosts and make us lose hope so easily, turning all our dreams to dust... It was our job the light the stars and it was our dreams to make them shine.
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
You may also like
Moth
They say the world used to turn. They say that night would follow day in an endless dance. They say that dawn rose, dusk fell, and we worshiped both sun and stars. That was a long time ago. The dance has died. The world has fallen still. We float through the heavens, one half always in light, one half always in shadow. Like the moth of our forests, one wing white and the other black, we are torn. My people are the fortunate. We live in daylight, blessed in the warmth of the sun. Yet across the line, the others lurk in eternal night, afraid... and alone in the dark. I was born in the light. I was sent into darkness. This is my story.Complete
amnesia
a look into a life falling to piecesComplete
The City Where Full of Broken Dreams
When maturity hits you and you're eyes is now wide open with the reality of how life works, you can just say that "Life sucks!" You'll gonna realized how to fit in this world where acceptance is for the privileged people only, for the rich and well-known personalities only. This is the reality! You need to be brave because only you can save yourself when life get sucks again.Complete
Happy Travels And Beyond
memories of traveling and crushes fill in your name and the name of your first crush the rush of everything new the moment we lose the ability to crush, we lose our fun the beauty of the new and the untouchableComplete
Gods Favourite Loser
Sometimes I wish I knew what it felt like to be someone else, anyone other than me, really. It's not that I dislike who I am(I do sometimes), or even that I'm lost. It's more like... I'm curious. Curious about the weight of other people's thoughts. The texture of their fears. The shape of their joy. None of us walk the same path, even if the streets overlap. None of us carry the same sky, even when we stand under the same stars. I often wonder, can eyes that have seen different corners of the world ever truly see the same world? Two people, standing side by side, might witness the same event. But they won't feel the same chill in the air. They won't flinch at the same memories. They won't hear the silence in the same way. So maybe we don't live in one world at all. Maybe we live in billions. Each one stitched together by memory, perception, pain, and hope. But maybe we can get close. Maybe, with enough honesty and enough patience, we can build bridges. Quiet little bridges made of words and glances and shared stillness. Maybe we can stretch ourselves across the gap. And maybe, just maybe, if you're willing to meet me there... I can show you what it's like to be me. So come. Walk a little with me. Let me try to emulate this strange maze of thoughts, this ever-shifting fog I call a mind. Let me turn myself inside out for you, just for a moment. The name's Blank. And I welcome you to the world through my eyes, my imaginary audience, watchful, patient, and perhaps just as lost as I am. Together, we might not find all the answers. But maybe, if we're lucky, we'll find the right questions.
Picking Daisies (Book #1, Emily's story)
Why I wasn't important. Why I wasn't worth it. Why I was invisible. Why I gave up. Why I hate myself. Why I am alone. Why I got rope. Why I got a chair.Complete
They say the world used to turn. They say that night would follow day in an endless dance. They say that dawn rose, dusk fell, and we worshiped both sun and stars. That was a long time ago. The dance has died. The world has fallen still. We float through the heavens, one half always in light, one half always in shadow. Like the moth of our forests, one wing white and the other black, we are torn. My people are the fortunate. We live in daylight, blessed in the warmth of the sun. Yet across the line, the others lurk in eternal night, afraid... and alone in the dark. I was born in the light. I was sent into darkness. This is my story.
More detailsContent Guidelines