#write ups

[ceramicteapot]

Somedays, it’s easy to be full of energy. It’s easy to leave your sheets, brush your teeth, pick out an outfit, call your mother. You’d switch your laptop on, open a document for school or work, and boom, time dilutes and dissolves. Hours go by and even if you did not get too much done, you know you tried. 

But what about the days when it doesn’t happen? What about when you cancel plans with a friend to check out that cafe they were interested in just because you’re bone tired? You didn’t do much physically, you just are. 

And how do you explain that to your friend? 

What about the days you mindlessly scroll down your social media even when the lines on your forehead spell out deadlines? How do you feel? 

Personally, I am consumed by guilt on such days. Feelings of being insufficient, of “wasting away” my days settle in my gut and refuse to leave. I’d like to know if you feel that way too. 

If you do, you’re not alone. We always talk about our accolades, the merit we made for ourselves, the hilltop we conquered, the fort we acquired. Let’s talk a bit about the steps we missed, the peaks we couldn’t see, the time we let slip from in between our fingers, just because it could slip. Just because we wouldn’t stop it. Just because it wouldn’t stop for us either. 

Pause with me for a bit. Fill up your lungs with a long breath that I know you haven’t taken in a while. Listen to me. 

You are worthy, even if all you did today was get out of bed. 

[destinedjourneyofwords]

Writing to you feels like a gentle hug,resting my head on your chest feeling at peace; Writing to you feels like a cool breeze carrying the sweet earthy scent of rain soaked soil; Writing to you feels like sipping my tea in my mug,warming my hands and heart; Writing to you feels like smiling on an instinct whenever I see or find something beautiful; Writing to you feels like a favorite habit,I'll happily do but definitely not a duty that I'm assigned with; Writing to you feels like healing my pain and telling you where it hurts me the most,to show you how I endured and survived my worst heartbreaks alone without trying to pretend,without the fear of consequences; Writing to you feels like I am being myself and living my moments in the most genuine way possible; Writing to you feels like giving my whole heart to the loving hands,where I am safely nestled,deeply cared, tenderly nurtured and unconditionally loved; Writing to you feels like a blessing for a lifetime chance to eternally honour you,to express how I am in awe of you and the way you make me feel loved anyway and in every way,my love!

[thatsidebee]

no you don’t get it. unpredictability is necessary, and it is so very beautiful. what a privilege to not know what to do, what to wear and how to be. what a privilege to wake up everyday, being so uncertain of everything. finding out is what gives meaning to life. to NOT know, is it be.

[atomicjohndeerweaponssilos]

[deathpoetsoceity]

Death poets society

A series of mine. A series to an empty audience. Where instead of the applause of the audience, i will be returned the applause of the silence. I will perform to empty seats except this time. I'm not exactly performing. I'm just embracing myself.

The 'performance' I'm talking about here is writing. I will write write-ups, atleast once a week. Maybe five times. Maybe twice. Who knows how many times. Write-ups about anything and everything. And this account with little to no audience will be my stage. I hate the audience.

[socialscreamsauce]

And even God Herself has fewer plans than me

got written up at work for leaving early without permission (knowing damn well what I was doing) anyway during my write up I let it drop (to my manager *someone I actually like to work with*) that the 11th will be the start of my last 2 weeks.. jesus christ its all so quick and scary... whata world

[pierog]

i'm so glad goncharov happened when it did, right before prolific public use of AI. that was pure honest gaslighting straight from the heart. real human whimsicality and trickery thru blood sweat and tears. we were a family. and we all gonched, together. you cant replicate that with any machine.

[roach-works]

speculative fiction writers i am going to give you a really urgent piece of advice: don't say numbers. don't give your readers any numbers. how heavy is the sword? lots. how old is that city? plenty. how big is the fort? massive. how fast is the spaceship? not very, it's secondhand.

the minute you say a number your readers can check your math and you cannot do math better than your most autistic critic. i guarantee. don't let your readers do any math. when did something happen? awhile ago. how many bullets can that gun fire? trick question, it shoots lasers, and it shoots em HARD.

you are lying to people for fun. if you let them do math at you the lie collapses and it's no fun anymore.

[nariarts]

Spent a ridiculous amount of time last night obsessively editing my hand written zines in Photoshop to take away any tiny blemishes so they were definitely readable.

Whatever. Understand or don't.

[frankierotwinkdeath]

Y’all want Taylor Swift to be gay so bad but you won’t even write femslash about her

[ceramicteapot]

you still have the bracelet that friend gave you as a fall present all those years ago. its gentle rolling against your skin still reminds you of the belly-clutching, never-ending laughter you shared in sparse classrooms together, how you'd walk everywhere together, how texting each other felt more natural than breathing sometimes, how every second of your day could be shared with them and you wouldn't mind.

you haven't heard their voice in over 2 years now.

so yeah. maybe you can get over the worst of heartbreaks. maybe you can love people and miss them and still let go. maybe choosing yourself isn't so bad. maybe begging for love, clenching your teeth to stop the tears, and digging your nails into your skin out of anger, hurt, pain... really is undeserved.

it's okay. you can sit with it all, feel everything down to the last cell of your body, process it in any way that you can. you can heal. and healing doesn't mean not hurting. it means going on despite it all without pushing anything under the rug.

it means getting up, looking the cause of your pain in the eye, and not letting them have the power they so crave.

it's tough, but you've realized that so are you.

maybe, you'll keep the bracelet as a reminder.

[destinedjourneyofwords]

Then I gathered all of my tear-filled words and poured them to settle on the paper.It was listened with patience,welcomed with a warm embrace and crowned as poetry.

My words find their voice at night As a silent flood of tears. Some words cry out for being taken for granted, Their value gets unnoticed,their worth unspoken Some words weep for being unappreciated Despite tireless efforts and endless devotion. Some words mourn for being misunderstood, Their intent gets twisted,their meaning gets lost. Some words lament for being blamed brutally Their innocence gets stained,their soul gets fractured. Some words cry out for being ignored, Their presence is unfelt,their voice unheard. Some words sob for being unloved, Their heart gets broken,their spirit gets bruised. Some words simply cry to breathe, To break free from the weight of untold pain. Then I gathered all of my tear-filled words and poured them to settle on the paper.It was listened with patience,welcomed with a warm embrace and crowned as poetry.

© Paintings : Im Gebet, signiert, datiert F. Schurig & Mary Magdalene as a hermit by Francesco Hayez

[kriz-smthn]

[robinstome]

Jerry Seinfeld says that you could never do Seinfeld today but one time when I was really high I fell asleep and dreamed a new episode where Jerry came out of the closet as a trans woman and Elaine wanted to be supportive so she gifted Jerry a dress that she didn't really like but when Jerry wore the dress out she got tons of compliments and Elaine gets super pissed about it because she never got any compliments when she wore it but couldn't say anything because she didn't want anyone to call her a fake ally.

[atlaswebdesigns]

this city's so pretty when your lights on

we count the stars together every nightowning the perfect pairs in our sleeptuning into the rhythm of lifeoh, shall we dare to dream tonight?another day, another goodbyeI become an astronaut in the starlight fighting our way against the oceanswhen you found your horizon,I was glad to have found you tonight-Poorwa Instagram Twitter Pinterest Spotify Facebook Recent posts… this city’s so…