Ihatewriting povestiri

This is a story, which will probably not be very good, about a writer discovering art. It's moderately inspired by blue period, and is a watered-down version of a better story I'm making (and will hopefully one day publish...)

Umm. This is me trying to like writing because apparently that's important in this world. Expect nothing because I'm not very committed to this.

Like the name implies, this is a collection of eight different short memories about my life. Some are a little more serious than others, but overall I have a happy life and so these are happy memories.

I only read.

this is just so i can try to improve my writing and use of punctuation

I take writing prompts from Pinterest and make them into little books!

This is basically just me talking about shit and stuff because I have no one to talk to and I don't feel comfortable telling people stuff. --------------- WARNING/NOTE -I forgot how to write sentences so they might be wrong. -I'm dyslexic so stuff might be wrote wrong. -im homeschooled so again stuff might be wrong. -just stuff about my life and me just talking about stuff. -I lost my enjoyment of writing a long time ago so I might struggle to figure out stuff to write. -I HATE poems okay I still can't figure out HOW THEY WORK and I don't like stuff like that. -ngl I'm regretting doing this. -also idk I just like typing ig. --------------- This was made in February, 9. 2025

my brother never came home tonight. so of course, i wrote a fanfic! As the Café bell rung, Tommy sighed. "What's your order?" Even when he saw the villains face, or. Mask, he didn't even stutter. "Carmel macchiato, 2 extra shots of caffeine." Rolling his eyes, Tommy got to making it. "Why are you here anyways. Bard?" He'd asked, pressing down onto the top of the machine to add in the extra shots. "Thirsty, don't you know?" He leaned on the counter. Smirking at Tommy's grimace at the last shot of caffeine, sounding terrible. "Of course, Mr. I use a guitar to kill people." He laughed, "Are you trying to piss me off? You obviously know what i can do." The bastard, of course he was. What if he wanted to die himself?

A person that finds a person who looks and blushes like a strawberry. I don't know how to make a description right now.

When John invites Arlo to go get boba with him as a thanks for giving him a binder, Arlo try's a sip of Johns boba then gets flustered realizing they just had an indirect kiss. This story is more like a re-write of chapter #47 of UnOrdinary. A quick one shot for one of my favorite ships.