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ow-writing · 2 months
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What does it say about me
To love the looking
Love the attention
And hate the advances
A glutton for punishment?
Self harm, inviting an unwanted touch
Just to remind myself
I haven’t made it up
The attention I’ve been taught,
Conditioned, to crave
Leaves my skin crawling.
A sensation I’ve associated
With the desire
I was told I would have
Alarm bells rebranded
As the butterflies in my stomach
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ow-writing · 3 months
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When I said I wanted to write all day I meant articles and stories, not emails.
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ow-writing · 3 months
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Comparison Comparison Comparison
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Comparison is a thief of joy.
To compare yourself to others is poison, they say.
I must have a death wish.
The poison sits pretty in a golden goblet
Sparkling with the anger it is prepared to unleash.
And my hands are drawn to it,
Undeniably searching for something to quench my thirst.
It’s easy to compare
When the American dream has a standard outline.
Everyone knows the expected progression of things.
You work hard and you can achieve it too.
I guess I didn’t work hard enough.
But I know that’s not true.
Why else would I have experienced the burnout that forced me to drop out of college?
Why else would I have taken 3 months to recover enough to get a job?
Why else would I have saved every penny to make my dreams come true?
And yet
It’s so easy to compare
My life to the peers I left behind at college.
The life I thought I would be living.
Spring break abroad.
Independence and freedom.
But I know I picked a different route.
Student loans gave me crippling anxiety.
My goals aligned with career experience, not a degree.
I will own a home before any of my peers.
I will have financial freedom before most of my peers.
I feel I’ve made the decision that is best suited for myself.
And yet,
When I see what they experience that I cannot,
I can’t help but start the narrative back over in my head.
I’m twenty and I dropped out of college.
I work full time and cannot afford to move out of my parents house.
I have no rowdy college trip memories.
I’ve never left the country.
And every time,
I have to continue to remind myself that I still have more than most.
I am forging my own path.
And I will make it worth it.
So I continue to drink the poison,
Until I remember I’ve already made the remedy.
And I will do it again and again
Until my hand no longer reaches for the poison,
and I will stop needing to revive myself.
One day I will let the goblet sit
Untouched
- O. Wells
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ow-writing · 3 months
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I’m reading Tipping The Velvet and im halfway through and blown away. This book has ripped my heart out and threw it in the gutter. It takes place in 1800s London with a queer girl and follows her journey. Currently taking a disturbing turn but so anxious to see what happens next. 10/10
If you see this, you’re actually required to reblog and tag the book/fanfic you’re currently reading, maybe even give a little description, a rating of the read so far.
Ill start, im currently re-reading Wading in Waist High Waters on ao3 by colgatebluemintygel. 10/10 its a wolfstar fic that takes place in a Great British bake-off AU
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ow-writing · 3 months
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The only person I follow tagged me so I’m sorry I have nobody to add <\3
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LETS GET READYYY TOOOO RRRRRRUMMMMMMBLE
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Tag your friends, followers, family, pets.. idk No pressure!! 💋
@manjibunny @nanamikentoseyebags @chronic-claire-universe @softshuji @deskaisers @scaramood @hoeshi4444 @kenuis @k1sakis @ranscutedoll @satocidal @moonartemisia @ask-the-insect-hashira @strawberrystepmom AND EVERYONE WHO WANTS TO
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ow-writing · 3 months
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Once I factor recovery time from working all day, my creative hours are severely limited and that’s what fuels the dissatisfaction in my life
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ow-writing · 3 months
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ow-writing · 3 months
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The biggest thing I’ve learned to help me enjoy writing is patience.
I will go weeks without writing anything, and then write a poem on my way to work or while waiting for food to reheat. And while I will still sit and feel sad about the days not spent writing, it is because I took those moments in the last year and a half to write when it struck me, I have a collection of poetry.
If I hadn’t spent time not writing, I would not have lived enough to write. The time in between is important.
One day I do still hope to have nothing to do but spend my days writing everything that passes through my brain. But if that day does not come for many more decades, I will cherish the moments when inspiration strikes.
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ow-writing · 3 months
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Today I found your letter.
I opened the white envelope
With my name scrawled on the front
Anticipating a forgotten love letter
Instead I found an apologetic confession
Typed and printed
Signed with your name
A laugh of disbelief escaped my lips
As I read with fresh eyes
The words that remind me
That you were just a child
I imagine your mother instructing you
To sit at the keyboard until there is more
Than an “I’m sorry” on the page
- O. Wells
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ow-writing · 3 months
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Trying something new where I believe in myself until I have real confidence. Wish me luck.
My anxiety tells me to keep all my writing ideas to myself. But my ADHD wants me to tell everyone everything all the time
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