Writers' Resources

I'm pretty.

That's what they tell me. People like me, they like my face. They say I'm beautiful. But it is as they say: beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Those are not my eyes.

For when I see myself, I see a horrendous amalgamation. I stare into my reflection and I see the rot of a hateful person. I always wonder how people can see beauty in that face. The fat in my cheeks, the uncanniness of my face, the creepiness of my big eyes, my oily nose, my big chapped lips, my cheeks filled with imperfection. I don't have awful break outs, I don't have awful acne.

I can say I'm thankful for that.

But sometimes, there would be a too red spot in my cheek, or a red dot accompanied by two others. Sometimes my pores look too big. My lips, chapped and dry and ugly as I am on the inside.

They say I'm pretty.

I say thank you, but I don't see it.

I know what lies beneath that deceptive beauty that I cannot see. What lies underneath is hideous, repugnant person whose heart is filled with hatred that it drips out of every pore on her skin, rotting her teeth, wrinkling her skin, greying her hair. Her hatred so abundant that it fats her up.

She's ugly.

I'm ugly.

Why can no one see that?

The ugliness she harbors, why can no see that!?

Pretty? Is this what beauty is? The cruel, violent, angry thoughts that floods her mind constantly until she hallows herself out with how deep she buries her hatred and her anger and her emotions; she buries it so deeply that she digs the hole to the other side of her and it drips out for the entire world to see.

I can't see that "pretty" that they speak of. How can they say I'm pretty? When I lash out, when I speak with vitriol lining my every word, when I stare with swirling storms of vexation. What is pretty in my ugliness? What is beautiful about my hatred?

How can they see beauty in me, when all I see is every single negative thing to exist in the world in every piece of me?

They don't know me.

They are so blind as to who I am, to what I am, that they can see my being in rose. And I wish they will never take off those glasses. I cannot bear for them to see what lies beyond the rose hue of their view.

I'm pretty, they say.

It makes my skin crawl with disgust, my mind cloud with disbelief, yet it warms my heart, makes my stomach giddy. I am giddy. I am disgusted. I am an amalgamation of contrast, of duality. I smile, say thank you. While the monster that is my reflection stares at me, a constant reminder that I am an imposter of beauty.

I'm pretty, they say.

And I pray,

That in their eyes, it stays that way.

me : *opens google docs and rubs my hand* LETS DO THIS also me : *stares at the google docs , head empty*

When you drawing a male and it becomes a female...

Thank you to everyone who got me to 1000 likes!

That Barbie meme but it's actually just Barbie and Ken in my weird style (；・∀・)

Luffy probably: *jovial* I should be dead, but I'm not.

Sabo: *amused and bemused* Everyone thought I was dead, I did too. But I'm not.

Ace: *surprised/relieved* I'm not dead!

*panicked* I'm going to die!!

*fucked* I am dead!!

I need more Draco x Ron

And also more Draco angst that isn't because Narcissa and Lucius are bad parents to him

here's a lil scribble I did with Raven (personally I think #3 fits her aesthetic😍) ⭐️ part 49292 of me refusing to shove her into one "goth" category 😤

I've watched it a million times already but "If They Only Knew" MV by Alfie Arcuri deserves a book inspired by it. The MV deserves a book. It's so sad and the kiss scene was ahakbaoana.

“For what it’s worth: It’s never too late to be whoever you want to be. I hope you live a life you’re proud of, and if you find that you’re not, i hope you have the strength to start over.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald