25outcomes
A Writers Place
A collection of thoughts, stories, and creative writing.
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as happy as you
some nights it hits me hard
other nights i’m numb to the feeling
I still care though
I will always care
sometimes I think you deserve better but,
other times I realize why this happened
I just wish I could move on,
but how can one move on if nothing happened in
the first place,
I still wonder what it would've been like
my mind keeps drifting back to you
i’m glad that your happy though,
I just wish she was as happy as you.
(thoughts about someone I used to be with, that ended up with one of my best friends- this is tea though because she was talking to him behind my back while I was telling her how I missed talking to him. they were together for three years, and he’s now gay.)
#spilled thoughts#creative writing#short stories#drama#tea#heartbreak#best friends#bad friend#no longer friends#better off#tbh
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sometimes I wonder if I have the capacity and space to just be myself in all settings.
will I have the time to pursue a relationship and do I even know what that looks like for me? do I want that?
it’s obnoxious how out of place I feel lately.
too this or not enough of that.
not being self deprecating because I do feel in touch with myself, I work my ass off, and I am generally happy, but what the actual fuck is it the air.
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space inbetween
Soon it will leave but it always returns.
Enjoy its beautiful rays, until the time comes,
The sun will set low.
In the moments weight, the the sun's rays cradle
and dance upon your skin, the dragonflies swirl,
and your mind’s wishes fly freely.
Soon dusk will meet dawn. It may not creep nor
sneak, instead embrace with warmth and
comfort.
The skies will shine golden as the sun sinks,
giving life to a new word underneath.
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The House In Spring
A fictional short story series by 25outcomes (as a 14 year old)
Chapter 1; New Home
It was raining. I watched little droplets of water creep down the window as we were driving. The velvet red seats had dark droplet marks on them from when I had entered the car. My hands felt numb and my hair was damp. I watched as we passed through a tunnel of dark green trees with branches that nearly touched the grey clouds and created a tunnel of greenery. I could see my breath in my reflection on the window. I listened as the rain skipped and tapped across the roof, it made me feel a sence of nostalgia and tranquility. The winding roads and the endless trees that reached out like arms to the sky made the sight serene and beautiful. We passed little old cottage homes painted creme like the color of my Mom’s favorite dress she would wear on family outings in the summertime. One of the homes particullarly stood out to me. It was a dusty blue color and had flower pots on the windowsill.
As we pulled up to the sidewalk in front of the house, the rain began to pummel down and thunder and lightning struck a few miles from us. By now my hair was as drenched, but I was too busy discovering the new house to notice. It was a brick house, not too big or small. There were lush green plants clinging onto the outside walls that looked overgrown. This house had to be very old. I walked along the slippery stepping stones and approached the house. The windows were dirty but through them I could see forest green curtains. I turned and walked along the wall to get to the big wooden front door. My hands were already numb and the handle was ice cold. I opened the door and stepped inside of the house. It was gorgeous. There was a big starecase and a chandeler hanging from the roof. The walls were a light blue that reminded me of the cute cottage home. I looked out the magnificent window only to see the rows of houses beyond this one. My curiosity was growing so I decided to explore. As I wandered the streets, I saw an open garage just a few doors down. Inside was a yellow cruser bike that had a weaved wooden basket. Just looking at it I could tell it was well loved. I thought maybe someday I could have a bike and love it just as much. After looking around a bit I decided to go inside the house, after all it was still freezing outside. I opened the door and walked up the beautiful wood staircase. I turned a doornob to enter the room that was soon to be mine. The room had white walls and it reminded me of a blank canvas. There was so much room for art yet the walls remained untouched. The only furniture that was left in the room was an empty wooden chair by the cottage window. I sat on the chair, closed my eyes for a minute and I must have drifted off to sleep. My imagination drifted. I pretended to be in the house of my childhood; that I was sitting in my tiny room full of memories. My grandma would read me stories every night before I went to bed. As I got older my grandma and I started to grow apart, sometimes we wouldnt even say a simple "goodnight" to each other. My grandmother passed away a year ago. I loved her more than anything. She helped me get through finding myself and the hardships I endured when things got rough in my life. Nothing can ever replace the memories that little house charished.
Shortly after dreaming I peeled opened my eyes. As I was looking around my bare room I saw something shiny peaking out from under one of the wooden planks. I walked over and lifted up the piece of flooring. It was a small silver key.
Days went by of me looking for places to use the key. Then one day I found a little grey box in the wall of the garage. It had the engraving"1970" followed by a heart on the side of it. The key fit perfectly. I slowly turned the key that opened the box. Inside was a black and white picture. I wiped away the dust and it revealed a picture of a boy and a girl who looked my age. They were at a highschool not to far from here.
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When I was 11 years old I loved to write. As I grew older, I wanted to find a dream that felt feasible, so I did what felt safe for me. I would never allow myself to discover what I was fully capable of, and I lacked a vulnerability to share my passion with and to others. Childhood felt like a time where I was most creative and passionate about my imagination, but lacked resources and confidence in figuring out the steps I wanted to take to get to where I dreamed of being. Everything I loved was boxed up into being just a hobby from no one other than myself. I was constantly searching to be the best I could be and loved working hard, but did not put myself out there. I found a love in other hobbies, and I am so grateful for all of the life lessons, adventures, and important information I have learned across the years and I wouldn’t change it for a thing It taught me to be strong, brave, and face challenges and turmoil, but I love returning to this. I am 25 now and ready to share the stories I have written and accumulated across the years from childhood, to my teens, and to now.
No genre just a series of writing from poems, to short stories series, to creative writing, to thoughts, outcomes and outlooks on life.
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