[ writing dump??? ]

[faerie;]

warm, soggy heat

summer is disgusting inc but whatever you say
ech bugs

[The Worst Username]

I really like that "reasons why you love her" one; she's a great character.

[emoji movie]

@ranger
<33

@faerie;
shhhhhhhh fite me lmao
concept: the absolute worst things in the world: bugs bugs bugaeitghjaethoj

@the worst username
aww thanksss!!

[emoji movie]

The mirror is a lion and she is the prey. Every morning-- she's trembling. Fear runs through her like quakes-- rippling through her and implanted in her veins-- deep rooted fear. Before everything hit her-- before the world's shadows engulfed her-- she was happy. The mirror was just a mirror. But now-- the mirror was pandora's box and when she cracked it open and peered in, all she could see were monsters.

[emoji movie]

Irrationality. With scalpels and gloves, you dig into the word-- you dissect the word. It's fear-- paranoia and fear of the things that should not- and could not- hurt you. It's sadness-- sadness over something small, like a scoop of ice cream fallen onto floors caked in dust. It's anger- the little bits of flaky rage that spills out like grains of sand through the slits between your fingers.

The many variations of irrationality make the word hard to define, but there's always one common- one general trend with the word: an overreaction to a small thing. Feeling immense fear over a creak in the floorboards when you're home alone-- feeling powerful sadness when your friend forgets something you said to them about a week ago-- feeling intense anger when you see a message from someone you like talking to someone you don't like. It's all entirely irrational-- and he knows it best.

Knuckles white-- hands shaking-- nails dug deeply into the palm leaving red crescent shape figures. He knew that far too well. Redness like a disease from his face down to his neck. Clenched jaws, tension in every bone and click, raised hackles, burrowed brows-- you know them so well. You're the dinner host, and anger-- fear-- sadness-- irrationality-- they're the guests.

[emoji movie]

When you're going forwards with no intent to go back-- and you cross a bridge, what does it matter to you if that bridge breaks in half and crumples? You needed it at the time, but once it breaks in half, it's nothing to you. It's the next person's problem, anyways, and only two or so people even come by this bridge a day-- you being the first.

A bridge. It's everything at first, and then it's nothing. It doesn't matter to anyone once it is used-- it is nothing after it is crossed.

[faerie;]

aajjeddennfgvhvn u cant jut keep writing stuff like this && expect me NOT 2 worry inc !!!!



The mirror is a lion and she is the prey. Every morning-- she's trembling. Fear runs through her like quakes-- rippling through her and implanted in her veins-- deep rooted fear. Before everything hit her-- before the world's shadows engulfed her-- she was happy. The mirror was just a mirror. But now-- the mirror was pandora's box and when she cracked it open and peered in, all she could see were monsters.



i rly like........ this 1 a lot it is Cool and. Good but so is everything u've been writing lately !!!! u've improved so much and i love it!!1

[emoji movie]

faerie bb (L ;w;)L
don't worry my famsquad i basically only write when i m # # sad so lik e you never see
when i am happy dw dw i am good these are just like 2% of my week

t h anks da d oml i apprECiate You!!!

[emoji movie]

I met him when he was five, and I was four. He had been a bright and optimistic kid, and I; a bashful mess that stumbled over words and hid from strangers. Few kids remember many memories before they're the age of seven, but I remember with vivid clarity the way his fingers curled between the gaps of my hand- fingers fitting so perfectly between mine- as if we were two puzzle pieces that had finally found our way together.

It had been second grade when he first gave me a short and sweet peck on the cheek. Brought on after a day heavy of laughter and running, our friends and us lay on a grassy hill, staring up a sky dotted with sprinkles of stars and flushed with a milky tinge. His hand reached over to mine, meshing messily with mine and pulling the closed embrace close to his chest. Much of that day had been a blur, but the pure bliss that erupted when he tugged me close and gave a light kiss on the cheek-- that was something I could never forget. It was- and still is- undoubtedly, one of my happiest moments.

Our love was an innocent one. It had always been rosy and red at the start, between the blushes that stirred on his cheeks or the way his cupped hands collected my cheeks between them, it was peaches and cream. Everyone had always assumed we were endgame- that it'd be him and I together forever; the two of us united against the world. Perhaps even I had assumed that- and perhaps he did as well. After school, he and I would call one another every day. We'd talk about almost anything and everything, our calls would last for hours on end until it was almost 5am, and he'd yell at me to go to bed and I'd respond with something akin to 'you first'.

Though I can't tell you what most of those calls were about- probably absolute bullcrap- I can tell you that we talked about the future a lot. He'd ask me if I wanted to get married one day, and I'd ask him the same. He'd tell me about the adventures he wanted to have with me, and I'd tell him about wanting kids and a family. He'd tell me about the things we'd do and the places we'd visit, and I'd tell him about my ideal homes and places I wanted to settle down at. Of course, the two of us were young and stupid. Our love was oblivious and reckless, unknown to the world around us and intolerant to that as well.

It was at the tender age of thirteen when we began to officially date. It was always a sporadic relationship, where we'd go weeks without seeing one another before meeting and clinging to one another as if the ground had been an ocean of the unknown and evil, and one another; a lighthouse. Our love remained a creamy pink shade of innocence- untainted by the hatred that crept in the corners of the world. It was an electrifying love, where butterflies swarmed inside your stomach and every nerve tingled with that feeling of immense joy. It was a love that made you feel entirely engulfed in warmth, where the heat from your red cheeks spread to your chest and to your arms and legs. It was a love that made you forget, and a love that you can never forget. It was a happy love; bittersweet, but happy. It was the kind of love that made you feel as if you were stranded world swallowed in a dry spell, and you've found a lake.

I can remember one time when my friends and his friends went out camping together, days after middle school graduation. The air was thick and warm and soggy, the sky was a shade of liquid led, molded together by starry hands. The campfire sat between the entire group, singed grass surrounded the flames that licked at the stars. Everyone sat on logs by the fire, smiling and cracking occasional jokes as a close friend of ours- Jason- sang songs. The fire cackled beside the quiet hiss of the lake, and I felt his hand slowly inching close to mind, playfully tugging at my hands before he interlaced his fingers with mine- much like many of the times before. Little did he know- this would be one of the fleeting moments to be engraved in my mind, a moment made eternal by being highlighted in a golden trim. That moment- I felt my heart seize before quickly pounding, rough in my chest as a warm glow spread out, much like the intoxicating feel of alcohol and the heated feeling wine left in your chest.

The thing about young love that most people weren't aware of, was the fleetingness of it all. Innocence can only last for so long,
and peaches all rot. You never really notice that time is running out, and that's the deadliness of young love. When you're old and established and something, change is rarely ever a question. But when you're still a teenager wondering what you want to be, or who you want to be, or where you want to go, change is inevitable, and it's threatening. We are taught that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but distance breeds contempt and desire.

The first time he cheated- or when I first found out- we were in high school. He was sixteen, and I was fifteen. Perhaps our shenanigans had gotten boring, or had gotten old, or perhaps I wasn't enough-- but he cheated. And the peachy cream and the innocence died right there, right then.

I can still remember reading the messages on his phone, and I can still remember the way I didn't cry or scream or yell, but instead, simply curled up and went to sleep. It was then that red became blue, and blue became green, and it became a struggle to accept myself. All I had wanted to do was disappear- as if I had just fallen asleep, I would turn into a pool of nothingness and could slip away like sand between the cracks on the street. Unfortunately, humans were not programmed to do that. Instead-- I woke up the next morning, perfectly fine and healthy, but not.

Our love was still inevitable-- because I could oversee his flaws, and he could oversee mine. And so I took him back.

This first time became a second. And the second sparked a third. Each time, he'd come crawling back to me; each time, I accepted him. I don't quite know why, but it was perhaps the feeling of being needed again that attracted me. I yearned for the innocence and the sweet creaminess of our younger days, and I thought maybe that I could change this ass of a kid back into his playful bashful self, even though he had long since shed his skin of childhood. Of course, I was still naive back then. The scent and promise of sweetness always let me adopt this toxic person back into my life, my heart thrashed and broken everytime he came back. But I kept telling myself-- go on. Go on. For him. For the child- for the children we used to be. For the children we could be again.

Bittersweet. A word like that has got to be one of the most underrated word in the dictionary. My memories remain slathered with its scent, and thinking back on these memories made me feel like both ripping apart a table- limb by limb- and hugging a teddy bear to death.

I remember feeling like nothing in that period of my life. Like maybe I was never enough- like maybe I would never be enough. The logical part of me that always said that 'you are enough' was shut down-- overridden by doubts and fears and the immense sadness. I became trapped in that memory of sweetness and childhood dreams, constantly wanting to move backwards in a world that only seemed to move forwards. Each time he poisoned himself, I would pick up the shattered pieces and put them back together for him to go and shatter himself again. That is, until one day.

I don't know what happened-- but I guess naivety only lasts for so long. And this may seem like a bad thing by itself, but sometimes, you need to lose that childhood naivety before you can move forwards. Innocence is a precious thing, but sometimes, innocence is a haunting ghost that needs to be left behind-- to be forgotten.

It was late at night- his breathing ragged and uneven as he approached me. I don't know what came over me, but I began to scream. And I didn't stop. Tears rolled down the curves of my face and anger shook me to the core. The lightning that once possessed my childhood now possessed me with anger. I trembled, and hatred was worn on my hardened face as I finally worked up the courage to whisper after my yelling had died down.

"Go."

Days after graduation- when the air is thick and soggy and hot again, and his friends and I sit by a lake, I remember feeling his arm reach around me, playfully grabbing at my hair. Inching away, I shoot him a smile, and turn to talk to a friend by my side.

I met him when he was five, and I was four. He had been a bright and optimistic kid, and I; a bashful mess that stumbled over words and hid from strangers. Few kids remember many memories before they're the age of seven, but I remember with vivid clarity the way his fingers curled between the gaps of my hand- fingers fitting so perfectly between mine- as if we were two puzzle pieces that had finally found our way together.

[faerie;]

sadefcjefdcanfdcxjwfdcxfDSJFWDSCNXZ INC I LOVE IT SO MUCH ; ____ ;
I LOVE THE "ALL PEACHES ROT" LINE AN THE DETAILING OF THE SCENERY !!!!!!!
aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAA