02:26 am inspiration strikes?

As I walk down the street, my breath a painting above the dark sky, my fingers itch with temptation. What will I do? Where will I go? I don’t know the answers to these questions. I know but two small things; what I want and what I need. But are these right? That I’m not sure of.

Love

Greed

Home

Death

Passion…

I know these things, and I know who I am. The basic person thrives for goodness, but is it truly achievable? We are all flawed, in one way or another.

I don’t know a person’s secrets, their passion. Their flaws.

Do you?

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for one second; a mess of thoughts by k.c

For one second I want to revel in what it is to be a teenager. I don’t want to fight for women’s rights, or for the planet, or hear about the countless young people dying in school. I don’t want to seek gratification from people I don’t care about online. I want to make mistakes and be dumb, and not have to fight for things that are so so much bigger than me. I want to forget about how scary the world is and live in my own happy place, where I am not self-conscious, where I don’t analyse every inch of my pictures and myself. A place where I can be happy and be who I am, not burdened by the weight of things I cannot change. For one second I want to live in the now, not think about my future or what the next year will bring. I want to run around every night living in the moment and having fun. I don’t want to worry about people saying this or that. I want to be effortlessly young. I want to write and not fear what others will see in my messy compiled sentences. I want to love who I l...

'James' written words by a wallflower

You can’t just expect people to fall at your beck and call James, she said. I know now she was right, deep down I think I knew then, but I guess I just chose to ignore that part of my brain, those thoughts that maybe I wasn’t who I thought I was and maybe I was, or am, a terrible person for it. I had always told myself I would move to California one day, and now being here, driving down the state route one highway, I feel like I have finally made it. Destined to be here, not stuck in some small town for the rest of my life. My torn copy of Jane Eyre sits beside me, the pages torn and dogeared, notes riddled between the lines, and my favourite passages circled. You know, I think we are really going to love it here Dude I say. From the crowded backseat Dude my gold lab pops his head between the front seats and pants. Smiling I reach over at scratch his head, I was laughing now, I remember almost perfectly. It was as if the stars had finally aligned for me, I glanced over at Dude ...

"Your Misery, Then Mine" A short story by Katlynn Chrans // trigger warning

Your Misery, Then Mine; By Katlynn Chrans I am going to tell you the story of a boy. I am also going to tell you a story of why we shouldn’t judge people when we don’t know their circumstances. Please listen from a place in your heart. As the anniversary of my uncle’s death closes near I have decided to come back to the topic of suicide, however, this time I will be writing from the outside. I have seen a post about the story of a boy who runs home from the bus every day, it is only short, but very beautiful and sad. So..I have decided to elaborate, give the boy a name, and a story. I have no clue if it was a fictional or true post, but the message is still received. I hope you enjoy. We sat, impatient and desperately trying to hold our laughter back, as the bus slowed to a stop he sprang from the edge of his seat, just like he always did. O...

my wallflower life

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