sam wunder

Hey bro, I have read your new story" submit." I liked it, so much. Could you upload it more? I even followed you!!!!

"The Garden of Time"
          
          In a quiet village, there was a young woman named Amara who tended to a beautiful garden. Known for its vibrant colors and scents, people traveled far just to see the blossoms. But what they didn’t know was how much time, energy, and patience Amara put into her garden. She poured her heart into every flower, giving each one the attention it needed.
          
          One day, a stranger named Elias arrived, marveling at the garden. “It’s breathtaking,” he said, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “You must be very proud.”
          
          Amara smiled but felt a pang in her heart. While she cherished her garden, she was beginning to feel tired. She spent so much time tending to every plant that she had little energy left for herself. Some of the flowers she watered eagerly only bloomed briefly, while others grew thorns that pricked her hands as she tried to nurture them.
          
          Elias, noticing her weary expression, asked, “Why do you give so much of yourself to every flower, even the ones that hurt you or fade too soon?”
          
          Amara pondered this, realizing she had never asked herself that question. She thought it was her responsibility to tend to every plant, assuming that each one deserved her time.
          
          Elias picked up a small, neglected seedling at the edge of the garden. “Perhaps some flowers need to grow on their own. But this one,” he held up the small plant, “it has potential. Sometimes, our time is better spent nurturing those who will flourish beside us, not hurt us.”
          
          From that day forward, Amara began choosing her plants more carefully. She gave her time and care to flowers that grew strong and beautiful, enriching her garden without draining her spirit. And she found that by tending only to what truly mattered, she had energy left to explore her own heart and dreams.
          
          Her garden bloomed brighter than ever, but more importantly, so did Amara.

"A Plea for Peace"
          
          I had enough of explanations in the dark,
          Of wounds that leave an unhealing mark,
          Enough of tears for those undeserved,
          And love too deeply, though rarely preserved.
          
          I had enough of kindness wasted away,
          On hearts too hardened to care or stay,
          Enough of tortures born in the mind,
          Blaming myself, seeking peace I can't find.
          
          I had enough of pretending things are okay,
          Of acting weak, as if strength fades away,
          Enough of being shallow, burying deep scars,
          Enough of the dramas, these endless wars.
          
          I'm tired of battles that lead nowhere,
          Of stories replayed with too much to bear,
          I just want peace—a quiet place,
          To breathe again, a soft embrace.
          
          

Unwritten Fates
          
          No grievances I had towards you,
          Yet, I held no love for anyone too.
          I dashed through life, a restless soul,
          Thinking madness had taken its toll.
          
          But then I saw, in a sudden light,
          That I wasn’t wrong, nor lost in fright.
          Those around me, masters of disguise,
          Wove webs of words, spun crafted lies.
          
          They sought to drain me, all I gave,
          Until I broke from their silent wave.
          And in the impact, fierce and stark,
          I found my fate, a silent spark.
          
          For none can twist what’s meant to be,
          The path unwritten, carved for me.
          
          

Will I Ever Be Loved?
          
          No one likes me,
          No one cares,
          I feel like fading,
          Yet I still stand there.
          
          Maybe I’m lost,
          Running in reverse,
          Afraid to finish my story,
          Convinced it’s a curse.
          
          Why can’t you see
          The spark I hold inside?
          Am I not a writer too,
          Longing for my words to be tried?
          
          Will I ever be loved?
          Will my voice be enough?
          I pour my soul onto the page,
          Craving someone’s gentle touch.
          
          But even in fear, I write.
          
          

The Gift of Understanding
          
          Born with the gift to understand,
          But not like others, hand in hand.
          They see themselves in simple light,
          But understanding takes more sight.
          
          It's rare to find a heart so kind,
          That hears your words and reads your mind.
          Not weighed by worry, stress, or sorrow,
          But sees the hope within tomorrow.
          
          They look beyond your silent cries,
          Past the clouds in shadowed skies.
          A gift so rare, a soul so true—
          To understand the depths of you.
          
          

Words Like Knives
          
          Kill me with the word knife,
          I can't hold back the flood inside.
          I'm sinking deep in silent screams,
          Drowning where all hope has died.
          
          I'm the villain in their eyes,
          No matter how hard I try.
          Nothing's ever enough for them,
          And now, I wonder why.
          
          Strength—I thought I had it,
          But today, I know I'm weak.
          They tell me I can't climb those heights,
          And their doubts begin to speak.
          
          I start to believe I’m wrong,
          The blame, it falls on me.
          For every fight, for every tear,
          For all I cannot be.
          
          I can't bring joy to anyone,
          Not to them, nor to myself.
          How helpless I have become,
          A shadow on a shelf.
          
          Tired beyond what words can show,
          But still, I want to say,
          I’m just like you—just trying
          To find my own lost way.
          
          What am I? Why am I here,
          Always guilty, always blamed?
          For mistakes I made in innocence,
          Now my heart is chained.
          
          I'm not sick, but still I ache,
          From words that cut like knives.
          I suffer from their sharpened edge
          That tears apart my life.
          
          

Move On
          
          No one but me,
          Who lost it all,
          Clinging to hope,
          That life might fall,
          Back into place, as once I dreamed,
          But nothing’s as it seems.
          
          Life gives me pain,
          Unbearable, cold,
          I think of the unthinkable,
          But then I hold,
          Onto the ones who care,
          Still trapped in a world unfair.
          
          I question it all,
          Why must it be me?
          But then I remember,
          There are those who can't see
          The light at all, in darker despair,
          Aren’t we all just lost somewhere?
          
          We’re human, yet so blind,
          Hopeless, helpless, trapped in our mind,
          We act, not think—just play our role,
          But what if we could reclaim control?
          To live our way, despite the pain,
          To die in peace, to break the chain?
          
          For society never hears your cries,
          They don’t care for your truth or lies.
          So move on, find your own release,
          And maybe, in that, you’ll find peace.
          
          

"If, in the future, you’re reading this, then please pray for me—to pass my exams and finally become a fully registered dietician. And while you're at it, please read my stories. They’ve been my source of strength through all the chaos."
          
          

"I’ve been pushing myself to keep updating my story, even though my schedule is overwhelming. Between being a full-time teacher and studying for two degrees at university, it’s exhausting. It’s hard to find the time or energy, and sometimes it feels like no one even reads what I write. But despite it all, I’m trying not to give up, because this story is the only thing that gives me hope."