Writer’s Block - Blog Posts

Writer’s Block Drabbles.

Andrew!Peter x Fem!Reader

i have severe writer’s block.. so im writing little things (with help from pinterest) to help.

Prompt —>

- A Secret Romance

- Sad smiles

- A homemade gift.

[This drabble is a summer fling, but make it dramatic.]

She held his face in her hands, pressing their foreheads together. A tear slipped down his cheek, he sniffled and shook his head. “No i cannot lose you, I won’t lose you.” She smiled sadly at his determination. She ran her hand across his cheek, her eyes scanning his face, memorising every scar, blemish and freckle. Her train was due to arrive in twenty minutes but she couldn’t bare to leave him.

He reminded her of summer nights, when the air is cool and the breeze is refreshing. Of freshly baked pastries and intricate oil paintings. He reminded her of simpler times, when nothing really mattered. She looked into his eyes with nothing but love and pure adoration, despite his puffy cheeks and reddened nose. She loved it all, the chestnut brown of his hair and the hazelnut hue of his eyes, the small heart shaped freckle that sat to the left of his slightly crooked nose. She loved the way his thick framed glasses sat awkwardly on the bump in his nose bridge.

“I have something for you. Just a momento, of our time together.” He whispered, reaching into his pocket and picking out a small velvet box. He knelt down on one knee, watching as she smiled softly at him. “You, my dearest Y/n are the love of my life and i need you to know that. I know our time has not been the longest, but i really feel like we have something special.” He pulled open the velvet box which contained a ring, made of paper.

“Oh Peter you’re so romantic.” She blushed, pulling him to his feet and leaning against him. “I know we’re too young, and i know that we cannot be together, but please, wear this ring and know that wherever you are you’re loved.” He slipped the ring on her finger, kissing her cheek shortly after.

“When you wear this ring, remember my love, remember this, remember us.”

“I won’t forget you.”

OMG YOU JUST REKINDLED MY MUSE FOR G/T CONTENT THANK YOU SO MUCH

thinking about Orpheus and Eurydice but g/t and i can’t tell which is worse

giant Orpheus with tiny Eurydice. she’s so small, she’s hard to spot even when one does look for her. he’s always kept a careful eye, making sure she was safe and alright, so the idea of her walking in his footsteps out of sight is terrifying to them. every one of his steps is like twenty of hers, so he has to go so. agonizingly. slow. to make sure she can keep up. he can’t even sing, because he has to concentrate all of his hearing on the softest footsteps behind him.

alternatively, tiny Orpheus and giant Eurydice. he can hear every one of her steps, when she sighs, when a large teardrop splashes onto the ground. he has to be careful to stay in her sight, but far enough ahead that he has a comfortable distance from the booming steps. he stumbles through half of it with his eyes screwed shut, worried she’ll go a step too far and he’ll get a glimpse of her form. she always did consume his entire vision, something so giant and beautiful you can’t help but look, a deeply rooted instinct he has to fight off with his entire body.

ultimately it doesn’t matter which is more tragic.

he’ll look back at her either way.

Writer's Block :(

That moment when you can't get the pencil to write

When the paper bites

Writer's block

Is worse than getting stuck with your brother's smelly sock

Too many thoughts on my mind

I need to write so I'll know I'll be just fine

Into a ball I want to curl

I need to stop hiding from the world

The moment you are so numb that nothing helps, not even music

I know I have the power but I'm afraid to use it

It would just cause me trouble

Make my world as I know it crumble

You start to think

At writing you stink

You don't want to write it all

Can't risk another fall

You are plain 'ol stuck

Wishes on shooting stars for better luck

What you don't realize is that it's all there

You need to take the dare

Too many thoughts yet at the same time I have an empty head

So for now I'm off to bed

writers' resources

sick of using "very _____" ? : https://www.losethevery.com/

want to simplify your writing ? : https://hemingwayapp.com/

writing buddies / motivation ? : https://nanowrimo.org

word you're looking for but don't know ? : https://www.onelook.com/thesaurus/

need a fantasy name ? : https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/

need a fantasy name ? : https://nameberry.com/

want a name with meaning ? : https://www.behindthename.com/

who wants a map maker! : https://inkarnate.com/

story building / dnd ? : https://www.worldanvil.com/

need some minimalistic writing time ? : https://zenpen.io/

running out of ideas ? : https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/

setting a goal ? how about 3 pages / day ? : https://new.750words.com/

what food did they eat ? : https://www.foodtimeline.org/

questions on diversity within writing ? : https://writingwithcolor.tumblr.com/

now what was that colour called ? : https://ingridsundberg.com/2014/02/04/the-color-thesaurus/

want more? : https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lyralit :]

to all of my lovely readers i promise i have not forsaken you!!! i've been super super inactive for the last week or so and i haven't updated via a03 in a minute so i just wanted to hop on and explain myself:))

i just started two jobs at once to pay for uni & rent and it is absolutely kicking my ass!!! i had to work 24+ hours over 2 days last weekend just so I didn't get double-booked between the two jobs, and in general, i'm super exhausted literally all the time right now 🤧🤍

hopefully this tiredness is not permanent!! i'm still learning how to balance my time around the jobs, so right now, i'm in a bit of a schedule-adjustment period as i figure out how to make time for myself & my hobbies while still working:)

this is pretty much why i haven't been active on tumblr & ao3. over the next week, my work schedule is going to cool down a bit, so i plan to keep at my WIPs and hopefully both release some ao3 updates & make some tumblr scheduled posts so i can keep on top of my fic promo:)

you can expect a new chap of the teenager in the iceberg and a new kataang wish (2023) - inspired oneshot, if happiness were a tangible thing, it would be you, a gift fic inspired by/ for @antizutara coming out in the next week or so!! i promise i am doing my very best to write more as the days go on:))<3 thank u for all the love and hi to the new cool ppl who have followed me even through i dropped off of the internet for a sec hehe!!<3

Gotta be productive

I've been lagging behind my updates regarding the posts on tumblr. I decided to stay active and give as much as I can during my semester break. Here are some stuffs I'm planning to work on.

Finish Noona! Please! Help! series

Write a review of Indigo, album by RM

Work on the new fic of Tae inspired by the 8 special photo folio

Write an original romance story for The Avonlea Story Club

Hope this time I'll actually do them...

Death Before Water And Life After It

'The Avonlea Story Club'

Story no. #02 Inspired by prompt: “There was a legend about the well in the garden.” Time Duration: 1 May, 2023 - 31 May, 2023

Word Count: 2.6K Words Warning: horror elements, mention of illness, injuries, deaths etc.

Summary: Spending the summer vacation with an ill grandma in a remote village turns mysterious...

I attempted to write down a rare experience I got to have while I visited my late grandma’s village. The story I am about to tell is no ordinary tale. It is, in many ways, unbelievable too. So, I would rather let my readers decide upon believing it.

It was the summer of 2017. My grandma was diagnosed with a deadly disease and the doctors feared that she wouldn’t make it till the next year.  I had a long vacation of two months from school. I didn’t have any plans either. At that moment, my only desire was to visit my grandma for the last time on her deathbed, even though it was said that she couldn’t recognize anyone.

It was the very first time I sat foot in that remote village. I had expected a lot from it since it was located far away from the city. But in reality, nothing about the village appealed to me. It was just an ordinary village with ordinary people.

My grandma didn’t come to greet me. When I went to meet her, she didn’t even bother to look at me. I could tell by looking in her eyes that she was in pain. But as always, my sweet grandma didn’t want to burden anyone with it. I spent three days in the house without getting out for once. Within these three days, I had constantly sat beside grandma and talked to her in hope that she might recognize her youngest granddaughter at some point. But that didn’t happen.

Finally, it was the fourth day when I got bored of playing offline games on my phone. Since the network connection wasn’t the best at that place, I decided to take a look at my surrounding areas. Like I had mentioned before, the village had nothing interesting to enjoy. There was no place for sightseeing.

After some minutes of aimlessly walking around I came to a stop near what looked like a ruin of an old garden. I spent a minute or two looking at its broken gate. Then I finally went in. Once again, I was disappointed after finding nothing but a bunch of wild plants growing all around the place.

There was an old well at the far corner. I felt like I should go and check it before I left the place for good. As I walked towards it I felt uncomfortable and strange. I remembered I was all alone in an abandoned garden with no house that could be seen or people that could be heard.

Yet I couldn’t turn back without a close view of the well. It was as abandoned as the garden itself. Vines and roots grew all around it. The huge stones had cracks. When I peeked inside I was shocked to see water that hadn’t dried out yet. I could see my reflection perfectly in the black water inside.

I was about to go away when I heard someone behind me. There was a little boy sitting on the ground, his back leaning against the well. 

How come I didn't notice him in the first place?

He wasn’t wearing much clothes than necessary, I guessed it was because of the hot weather. He was dirty from his head to toe. I went closer to check on him. I found out that he was humming a tune while scratching his ankles.

“Hey!” I called him, “What are you doing here, all alone?”

He quitted humming at my intrusion and glanced at me for a moment. Then he looked down on his ankles and started to scratch them again. I felt an urge to stop him from doing that. His feet looked swollen and red.

Instead I asked, “Where are your parents?”

“They died… long ago,” he answered in a low voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that!” I went closer to sit in front of him, “Do you live nearby?” There were no houses in sight that could suggest his home. But I still looked around for any sign of life.

In reply, the boy looked at the well behind him for a moment. Then, he looked at me and asked, “Are you a foreigner?”

“No. I came from the city.” I replied.

“So, you are a foreigner!” he stated. This time with a thrill in his eyes. So, I nodded my head in defeat. Maybe he considered everyone apart from the villagers a foreigner.

“You shouldn’t do that.” I said, indicating his merciless scratching.

“It’s okay!” he smiled at me, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

I studied his face for a while. Even though it was dirty, I could tell that the boy was really beautiful. He had big doe eyes with long eyelashes. His small mouth looked really cute when he smiled. Also, he had the kind of smile that makes others do the same at its sight.

So, I automatically smiled back at him.

“C’mon!” I stood up, “I’m going now. You shouldn’t be here all alone. This place is giving me the creeps.”

“You’re going away already?” the boy asked. The smile on his face was gone. His big eyes were filling up with tears all of a sudden.

“Aww, don’t cry.” I said, giving him my hand, “I'm not leaving you. I’ll take you to your home.”

“I can’t go.” he shook his head.

“Why?” I asked, rather astonished at the bold reply coming from an otherwise soft spoken little boy.

The boy retreated to his previous position. He continued humming the tune and scratched his ankles as well. I tried convincing him to come with me for some time. He started to completely ignore me.

I checked my watch. It was past lunch time. I knew grandfather was probably really angry by now because he doesn’t like delaying meal times. So, I told the boy to go home early and not to come to the place again. I had to leave him alone by the well.

I had almost forgotten all about it. But another meeting reminded me of my encounter with the little boy by the well.

I laid awake in my bed. The little boy sat at the furthest corner from me. I stared at him for some time, watching him scratch his ankles and humming the familiar tune.

When our eyes met, he let himself smile. "You're awake!" He stated.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him.

"I came because you didn't come to see me again." He replied.

"Did you wait for me?" I asked.

The boy nodded.

"Where?"

"Why? By the well in the garden!"

"Didn't I tell you not to go there alone?"

The boy laughed at me, "But I live there, silly."

I didn't understand him. Suddenly I remembered I was sleeping and I hadn't really woken up.

How could I tell that I was dreaming?

"Oh no! You're gonna wake up now, aren't you?" The boy pouted his lips.

"How do you…" I couldn't finish my question. I was already awake. And as I checked, the boy was gone too.

I couldn't make myself go back to sleep again. It was already dawn. So, I walked around the house. I heard my grandma calling me from within her room as I walked past it. My eyes grew larger.

She remembered me!

"Oh, granny. My lovely, granny." I sprinted inside her room and hugged her.

"When did you come, my love?" She asked, a sweet smile on her lips.

"Almost a week ago."

We talked for some time. Grandma said that she felt a lot better and was so happy to see me. She wondered why mother didn't come. I said she was very busy with her work. I lied because I didn't want to worry her about mother's health. And I knew she wasn't the type to get hurt when someone couldn't manage their time. It is a cruel world, after all.

At some point, grandma was reminiscing about the old times. Long ago when she was young and not yet married. She used to live here, in this village, at that time. She talked as if her memory of her childhood was just a few days back. I felt like she had forgotten me at some stage and mistook me for her best friend of childhood instead as she talked.

At one point, I asked her about the old garden. I asked if it was in use at her times. She looked at me with dreadful eyes, "don't speak of it. Don't you know, it's a forbidden place to walk in?"

"Why is it forbidden, Grandma?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, dear!" She suddenly started to laugh, "I keep forgetting that it's you." and placed a kiss on my forehead.

"Grandma," I called, "Please, tell me about the garden. I wanna know."

"It was a long time ago. Even before I was born. There was a legend about the well in the garden." grandma spoke dreamily.

"What legend?"

"At the time when the first gypsies came to settle down in the land, it was a barren one. No river. No rain. Nothing. Nobody knows why the river gypsies chose to live in such a land after years of floating in water. But they struggled against this land. It wasn't habitable for life at all. They decided they'll excavate a well. After months of labor they did it too. But it was only a matter of days  before the water dried out after the well was built."

"Why?" I asked as grandma stopped to take a breath.

Grandma nodded, "it was a cursed place. Everyone in the village had dreams about the well afterwards. An unknown entity would visit them in their dreams and ask them to negotiate with it. The negotiation was a human life in exchange for water.

"People were scared. They forbade everyone to go near the well. They decided to leave the place for good. Some of them even ran away from home in fear. But the nightmares didn't stop. The entity was hungry for human life. Finally, it got what it wanted.

"A little boy of a lonely mother wandered off to the well one day. When he returned home at sunset, both of his legs were found being chained. The mother walked along the long chains only to find that it led inside the very well her people had built. The more they pulled the chains, the more it grew in length, coming out of the dried well. No blacksmith could damage the chain, not even a little scratch could be made on it.

"The villagers started to see a different version of their same old nightmare. The entity now asked them the life of that little boy only. Then, started the gossip.

"The boy was an illegitimate child. His mother was not a very welcomed person in the community. They lived almost a separated life. Maybe the entity chose wisely. Maybe they should abide by its rule. Maybe the boy could be sacrificed for the sake of all.

"But the mother was a mad woman. She wouldn’t give up on her only gem. She would rather her son lived with the chains around his legs forever. The child cried. He cried all day and night. He said that his legs itched. And as he scratched them again and again, the skin had peeled off and left him wounded.

"'Mama, it hurts.' The boy pleaded with his mother to get rid of his shackles. But nothing could be done for his aid. The villagers, at one point, stopped even trying. The herbal remedy his mother gave him was useless.

"'Let me go, then.' The boy pleaded again. His mother denied.

"Finally, the boy decided for himself. When his mother would be asleep, he would go to the well again. He would ask the well what it wanted from him. And so he did. Nobody heard of the little boy anymore. Someone said that the boy had jumped off to the well himself. But nobody knew because there wasn't a body to be found.

"Since that day, there hasn't been any scarcity of water from the well. The well never dried off after. A beautiful garden grew around the land. No-one had any more nightmares. The gypsies finally overcame another adversary that was the most challenging in their community life. They lived happily ever after."

Grandma finished her story and looked at me with a smile.

"But Grandma," I spoke, "this isn't the type of story that ends with 'happily ever after'."

"Why not?" grandma asked, "the villagers, in fact, did live happily."

"What about the boy? And his mother?"

"Now," grandma stated, "they weren't the hero of my story, were they?"

"You've got a point," I said, "But don't you think that the boy could be the most tragic hero if it was said from his perspective?"

"He could be." Grandma thought for a moment, "Why don't you rewrite it in your own words then? Maybe you can do him some justice."

Before I left grandma for breakfast, I asked her one last question, "since everything is resolved, why did you say that it was a forbidden garden in the beginning?"

"Because, darling!" She looked at me as if it was so obvious, "the little boy can still be seen roaming around it."

I went to the garden that day. It was obvious what grandma told me was just a legend. And a legend can be a lie. Or at least partially. Maybe there was an incident of a boy's drowning. Maybe the nightmares originated from the collective superstitious belief of the gypsies. Or maybe, just maybe, there was an entity involved.

Whatever happened a long time ago, I could never know them for sure. I could only assume the story from my perspective and my beliefs in particular superstitions. But I didn't feel like I could rest till I saw that little boy again and demanded some kind of explanation. It might sound a little crazy to the readers but my mind couldn't make out any reasonable explanation of the boy's peculiar behavior at the moment.

I waited from morning till noon. But he didn't come. I didn’t know that some terrible news awaited me at home other than the fear that grandfather might be mad at me for missing another lunch.

Grandma was no more. My sweet, lovely grandma. The grandma who had talked with me just this dawn. I was told that the servant found her dead when he went to serve her breakfast. I almost didn’t believe it. But I accepted at last as we all do eventually.

I stayed till the funeral was over. Then I immediately packed everything to leave the place. I didn’t think I could stay at the house without feeling my grandma's presence.

But before I left, I had to solve something within myself. I had to see the boy again. I went to the garden for the last time. And as expected he was already waiting for me.

"Why didn't you tell me everything beforehand?" I questioned him, "Didn't you want me to know?"

"You know because I showed you." The same old smile on his face.

"But why me, of all people?"

He walked towards me and placed his cold hands on mine. It was the only time he had really touched me. He said hopefully, "You'll let them know, won't you? They'll finally know."

"Know what?" I asked, a little confused.

"The truth!"

I didn't understand him wholly that day. After years it somehow dawned on me. The little boy wanted the world to know. Not just the legend of the well in the garden. But the little life it took that made it possible.

Author's note: The story is inspired by a folktale my grandma had long ago told me that originated from her hometown. It was about how a pond was excavated and a child's life was offered for it to contain water. There are many versions of this story. The story is really memorable to me and honestly, I still get chills whenever I think about it. I made some changes to the plot to match the given prompt. I don't know if I could do it any justice. But I'm glad I made an effort to preserve one of the less known folktales of my country.

P.S. The country is Bangladesh…

Apparently, I've got loads of contents and ideas to write about but zero motivation to do so...

At this point, I know I am just screaming into the void by posting this. The probability that more than three or four people will actually read this rant/diatribe is slim!

I have been working on an assignment at work for going on three days, and have yet to finish it. It might be more accurate to say that I have been researching for the assignment for 3 days, and really writing/drafting for three hours total. Why haven’t I made more progress you ask? Oh, it’s just because of my anxiety, Dyslexia, OCD, imposter syndrome, burnout, skill regression, and brain fog! No big deal, (sarcasm)!

Sometimes, it feels I’m slowly loosing myself.

Keyboard go BRRRRRRRRRR

“MY WIFE AND I”

I watched as the sun crept behind the mountainous Alps. I rose from my chair and returned inside. The windows were still open, I loved how the cool evening breeze caressed my face. The remaining slivers of daylight cascaded through the windows and poured onto our wooden floors. I stood by the door, eyes closed, breathing deeply to savour the sweet air. When I had opened my eyes I was greeted with a kiss from my wife, she was beautiful. Her hair, a deep auburn like the Jarrah trees that surrounded our home. I cupped her face and drew her near, eyes were aglow with a sweetness only she could bring. I embraced her, as I always did. I felt her fingers dance through my hair and finally rest on my neck. I leaned forward causing our floorboards to creak. She lets out a small chortle in response. An icy gust of wind bellows from our windows, causing us to shiver. The sky, no longer cobalt fades into a midnight blue. My wife and I watched as the stars came out from behind the clouds.

context: this was a creative piece i wrote for an assessment in my creative writing unit this semester. i did a sort of portfolio project but this paragraph was among my favourites i have written. part of me wants to build on these two characters and this setting as a whole. maybe i will revisit this some other time, who knows? :)

and of course, it goes without saying. you’re more than welcome to use this as inspiration but where possible credit me if you can / please don’t outright steal or copy original works from artists or creatives alike :(

Foreshadowing is so fun! Even though I'm still on draft one of my novel, I may list which of these elements I've incorporated so far below.

Lozerief knows stuff she shouldn't. How did she know Izi's dad? If she knew his dad, did she know his mom? (Spoilers, yes, she did, duh.)

Colors. Everywhere. Lozerief wears black, foreshadowing her role as Hero of Earth. Izi wears white, foreshadowing his role as Hero of Cognition and her antithesis. Hota wears teal for their role as Hero of Mind.

I (mostly) know how this will end.

Not a Checkhov's gun but I repeatedly bring up Izi's old home for more reasons than just trauma.

I keep track of what I put in languages that I create so that only I (and the characters who speak those languages) know what they're saying. (I foreshadow the rise of the White Army this way.)

Names with meanings is a big one for Lozerief...

I realize only now that Lozerief is the character who hides the most, and it's amazing she doesn't spoil it all right away. Maybe she's bound by some old agreement...?

subtle ways to include foreshadowing

one character knowing something offhandedly that they shouldn't, isn't addressed until later

the crow rhyme

colours!! esp if like, blue is evil in your world and the mc's best friend is always noted to wear blue...betrayal?

write with the ending in mind

use patterns from tragic past events to warn of the future

keep the characters distracted! run it in the background until the grand reveal

WEATHER.

do some research into Chekhov's gun

mention something that the mc dismisses over and over

KEEP TRACK OF WHAT YOU PUT. don't leave things hanging.

unreliable characters giving information that turn out to be true

flowers and names with meanings

anything with meanings actually

metaphors. if one character describes another as "a real demon" and the other turns out to be the bad guy, you're kind of like...ohhh yeahhh

anyways add anything else in the tags

Deadly virus.

In depths of evil,

fingers in the dirt pray

to welcome God's darkness,

to take us upper in the air.

Floating secrets hidden in minds,

mouths covered with mud

to grow a poison so good,

feel the tearing pleasure,

plague is coming to greet us.

-t.f.s.

Pressure.

Whole deadly dim of glory

flows with dirty air of essence

deeper than thoughts,

surround my chest.

Where are those voices

who scatter our breath,

names falling down,

faces stay the same.

Flashing lights recall,

the depths of spirits

they stroke to dawn.

Losing part of faith,

magnificent gesture

breaks away the silence,

without a cloak,

darkness is dull.

-t.f.s.

Reborn.

Feels so good to be reborn,

my room of art awaits me,

let the sunset shine on me,

let it paint me in warmth.

-t.f.s.

What Feels To Be Unreal.

I could feel Earth's vibrations coming.

Breathing. Slow motion.

Sky is running out of time. Animals disappear from ground.

Eyes are haunting in the night, flashes cut inside.

The enemy grows bigger as hearts are getting eaten,

eyes swollen, hands shaking from earth's largest power

in Universe- cosmic danger regeneration;

penetration is on, poison sucks on your skin,

tongue freezes,painting the back of your sin,

creating rooms of dust and evil, envy and kill;

hands are tightening the weight of the world,

Earth's shaking, eyes see everything

In a world drowning in madness, faking

all the goodness flying, air dirty, souls dying.

Powerless and absorbed on the edge of regret,

living nightmares with the walking dead,

end is near as our humanity,

in shape-box as hanged pig,

nobody hears the insanity

we've came along to fear.

Hands shaking, Earth's breaking

new dawn is taking our last scene.

World is so gone, nothing's real.

-t.f.s.

Scary nights.

Fears enter my room

air blows my way,

odd scent comes,

dead men haunt

to capture me.

-t.f.s.

Source: apocalypse dream.

Mind.

Fulfill a destiny

in your hands,

there is no end

there is only death.

-t.f.s.

My brain won’t work and I am going to lose it

How I'm feeling right now:

Never Miss, Take A Risk

Through voices, inks and paper, many have tried to put into definite words what risk is and what it means to them. Slowly exploring its essence, I must say that it is an absolute eureka moment once discovered. Silly but true – you must not miss to take a great risk! But... how? And why?

Breathe in. Breathe Out. One should note in his jottings that life is inherently risky. We are the star players in our own life’s competition and to dodge from the wicked streak risk of doing nothing is the first goal. Just try to blend with this flow, if you fail fast, don’t let it last; make ways to adjust and you’ll learn how to surpass.

Recently, I have encountered the great winds of dilemma and challenge. It’s very odd yet I felt that it will give a big hint that will fill up my puzzle in life. It’s like a part of the picture formed in zigzag-cut puzzle pieces that may bring me to a life-long conclusion. And guess what? In the dimmest of nights and on the shimmering sun of days, my thoughts were never wrong. I’ve decided to risk the unusual. I’ve concluded to grow. I’ve chosen to love.

No matter how the mind spins and feelings diverge, risk and love are never far from each other. Love and achievement always involve great risks. Though I may not be able to combine and put all of these ideas into words everyone can understand, I may assure that I can let my actions do the speaking. It simply does. It simply goes.

“Most important thing is this: to be ready at any moment to give up what you are for what you might become,” with the thought of American author W. E. B. Du Bois that struck me most, I can say that life is a beautiful mess slowly unyielding the hidden sparks and shadows of the soul. Truly, risk is an essential part of determining life’s worth. So why not pursue not to hit a miss or never miss a hit? Take your weapon and risk; seek how far you can go along with the strange tides of sorrow and bliss.

PS: Risk for what is right. Great decisions always contain great risks. It always takes a witty mind and courageous heart to make this kind of decisions. But yeah, keep calm! No pressure, take this risk: Smile. J

I think I’ve been putting too much pressure on myself lately. I’m trying to revise some poems for my slam team and write a second draft of a fic (that is almost a complete rewrite because I wanna change too much), and I’ve been struggling to get anything done because I want my writing to sound like my favorite writers.

I will try to let go and see how much I get done before I go over to friends house in about an hour

Another day of my closed laptop staring at me from my desk while my fanfic docs are strewn with tumbleweeds and those little cartoon flies that come from an empty wallet. The only time the muse to write struck was literally in the middle of doing some assignments for my college class.

Tragedy.