𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐀 𝐌𝐄! ༊*·˚

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it's probably smarter to put my writing in a private journal but i am so so talkative so here we are
please don't post on here and if you've got any comments or anything, send me a pm instead!

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maybe if wishes would
come true when you said
them
and not just
become words

breathed

into the

xxxlxair

i'd wish to
never grow
up

snowed in
by thoughts
that never
melt

no more time for
building
snowmen
or making
angels

not anymore

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when i was younger,
i had soft skin
covered in sweet kisses
had a heart more giving
i feared only for monsters under the bed
for coal on christmas

when i was younger,
too inexperienced to know shame,
i would sing on the balcony
whatever came to mind

of ladybugs, of summer, of children

i wonder where that naivete ran to
perhaps it floated away
over the rainbow
as eyebags formed, feet grew bigger,
photo albums grew
full
if only i could sing like that once
again

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There was a reason Wen didn't like sleeping, even though she knew she needed it. She hated being dependent. But without at least a few hours of unconsciousness, her body would feel sore all over and her brain would start to numb. She couldn't deny that it was a biological necessity yet she tried to challenge it all the same. The doe-eyed girl would avoid even sitting on the bed for certain that the dream would come again.

It started at a beach. The sky was a grayish blue, like the calm before the storm, and yet the sun was so powerful Wen felt as if she were sitting right next to the radiator at Aunt May's during cold Decembers. Like most dreams, it gave Wen the illusion that she was underwater. She wasn't drowning though.

Wen saw her sister a couple of yards away. She was standing near the water, the waves rocking back and forth near her bare feet. She was wearing a blue swimsuit. It matched the color of the sky perfectly.

Then, Wen would call out to her. "Joane!" she would say. Her voice cracked every time. And every time her sister would stare at her blankly. Wen would walk over, stand so close that she could see the brown streaks in her sister's olive green eyes. She would wave her hands desperately to get no response. Eventually, her sister faded away like dust. Just like everyone else.

And once Wen woke up, she would realize all over again that she couldn't even escape reality in her dreams.

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sometimes thinking of you again feels like i am reaching out for a shooting star
so close and yet so far

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"I hope that one day you find your heart is just as soft and kind as it was when you were little." the woman said to Fran. Her voice sounded so indifferent. If their conversation were a part of a silent film, Fran would have thought that Mrs. P was talking about what they were having for lunch.

Fran had never meant to tell Ms. P about her sorrows, no matter how much she thought she trusted her. But last week, it happened as the woman tucked her in bed. Fran stared into her knowing eyes and when the question "What's been on your mind, dear?" left her lips, Fran could not resist. She should never have let the tears slip during dinner that Wednesday. Especially when they were having sushi, her favorite. It felt like a punch in the gut for Mrs. P to bring up their conversation again. Fran tried suppressing the memory and Mrs. P seemed to knowingly deny her of her ignorance.

The lady standing in front of her did not stop though. Even when her full brown eyes were not facing Fran, it felt just as personal. "Life was hard for you, is all, Francis." Then Mrs. P walked over to Fran and cupped her cheek in her palm, brushing Fran's red hair out of her eyes. "It was never your fault."

It took everything in Fran to not take this moment and cherish it forever. The orphan wanted so much for her heart to feel full, for her mind to feel at ease, for her to feel understood at last. But instead of meeting Mrs. P's eyes, she took the hand off her cheek and walked up to the bedroom.

After all, Mrs. P had turned her into who she was today.

Adding some snippets of things I guess. I like writing small moments in my un-developed characters' lives to help me better understand them. And because it's exciting.

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you won't leave me, will you?
i ask the flowers
and they shake their stems
as fall steals them away

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the more great the good are, the more you wonder what the bad are like