Tired Stories

i'm sooooo bored so i ' m just jotting down whatever thoughts and ideas i can find in my head. including random names cause i can't think of any. comment if you think of names i should/am allowed to use

serendipity /ˌsɛr(ə)nˈdɪpɪti/ finding something without looking for it

Just my diary that I post, some of them just my emotional feeling just like you are Dear Diary By - Annz Eyra

just some random things i do on proseka

A sibling to the Trollhunter? Yeah, right. Nath was often seen as a rather difficult person to connect to. Just a wreck of the town they lived in and the people they had to deal with. But thing's seem to unravel once they come across an old acquaintance, a very old acquaintance.

so this is my first story ever, so it might not be good. This is my au of solarballs, so if there's something you dont like, then womp womp. There's not much inappropriate stuff. and i'm also a multi shipper😬 I'll explain more in the info, though. Also, I couldn't find another cover, so...

Sixteen-Year-Old Jacob Black has been getting headaches since the age of eight. And the young teen wouldn't be able to tell you why. He knows it has something to do with the large hole in his memory. But that's it. He's asked his dad about it, but not even he could give him an answer. So Jacob left it alone, for as long as he could. Till he meets a pale face that seems to cling like a leech to his best friend.

im trying to come up with a name for this story enjoy ig

How does the story go again? Oh yes... Wolf, Chosen Undead, Bearer of the Curse, Ashen One, Tarnished, or Good Hunter... burdenous titles cast upon Y/n like the rope upon those who stand atop the gallows. Each with their long... painful... and horrid memories weighing them down upon the man. Well no more. None of that. Y/n has ended the dream. His head has been lopped off by Gherman. And yet... he is somewhere new yet familiar. His long awaited respite has finally been reached... Or so he had foolishly thought...

They were both drowning in it, the pressure, the noise, the expectations. But neither of them could see how they might save each other. Not yet. Not when it was easier to pretend everything was fine. But sometimes, when the world was quiet enough, you could feel the pull of something real, something that might make it all worth it. Maya Thompson stood at the corner of Queen Street, hands shoved deep into her pockets, staring at the cracked pavement beneath her feet like it held the answers to the questions she couldn't even form in her head. The world was moving around her, but she was stuck. School, friends, the endless cycle of work and pressure, none of it felt like it fit anymore. It was too loud, too bright, too much. And then there was him, Joon -quiet, with an edge of annoyance that seemed to sit heavy in the air whenever he was around. He didn't speak much, but that wasn't what made him stand out. It was the way he carried the weight of everything in the way he looked at the world. It was like he was tired of pretending. Vote and comment please!

Just writing down my thoughts and experiences with things.

I wish I've never bought her that thing, maybe I didn't die and live to that horrible mess. My sister got obsess with this shoujo manga called 'Ai wa tsukarete imasu' or 'Love is tiring' so she beg me to buy her the volume 11 of that manga. I regret doing that thing, now I'm stabbed in the back. Being too kind is tiring too.. I wake up in the same body....but much younger body with a different family.. Damn it, I think I've created a reverse harem....

The real cost(s) of moving In the course of my lifetime, which now spans almost 50 years, I have moved far too much, and I am so very, very tired. Not "I didn't get enough sleep" tired. Life tired.

i write some stuff poems yay just about my head

I seem to write good poems when I'm stressed, Or tired, Or generally on the verge of a mental breakdown. So. I figured, why not share?! Who knows. Maybe you people will like them. I sure hope you do. So. Enjoy. Or don't. I don't mind.

here's to those that bathe in fear, that swallow poison and spit it out. may you always be stronger than the monsters at the door.

Memory's kept haunting Iris, she would forget them for a while till they came back pushing her. Iris ran her fingers down her hair, things were so stressful. She had thought hiding would help her put it only proved worse. The coming of the Winter was worse, she had no idea of how to survive the Winter.......

So this book will basically be a venting system for me. Basically my therapy. I'll talk about my life, random thoughts, post art work, all that jazz. Maybe you could gimme advice and help. I dunno.

literally just a bunch of poems i wrote because im broken and noone cares

Living on an army base since she could remember, Adriana Coldwell encounters her first death. At the age of 11. Her brothers’. It wasn’t until she realised who had killed him that she finally decided what to do with her life. Avenge. But there's not really much you can do when your father is one of the most respected man in America like her brother once was, a man who barely even talks to you let alone spare you a glance. It wasn’t until she makes a team and proves herself worthy to join The Firm that she finally takes everything seriously. But why, in every story, does there have to be the one or two… or maybe three guys who have to ruin it all? When everything is suddenly not as it seems?