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#reject writes

Dingy back room where sweat drips from the walls is where our story starts

tiny cloakroom bump into you

dance all by myself

Photograph me and send it to your friends,

never imagined that you didn’t want to see me again

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the third or fourth or fifth day in a row i had seen you.

Part of me knew it wasn’t what i thought it to be but something inside wanted to hold on,

ignoring the pain of the salt you spilled over my broken heart instead of the chips.

The smiles of my friends who saw what i too wanted to see burned in my mind long after every thought of you disappeared. 

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Alone, with you.

I want nothing more than to feel your heartbeat. To hear what you need. To have you right by my side. But instead you’re on the other side of the bed, seemingly miles away and it feels like crawling to you would take years.

So instead, I sigh. Turn over and fall asleep.

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“Your writing is excellent and the best we’ve seen in a very long time.  However, we don’t feel we have a place for your work at this particular time.”

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…….. at least they think I write well.

I must be getting better, because rather than wanting to curl in a fetal position under my bed and sob I just want to get back to writing Baby, Mine.  At least at Archive if someone doesn’t like my work they usually explain why, even if it’s just “Shipping an old man and a girl is sick!!!”

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this may be an unpopular opinion, but i do believe that jacob somewhat imprinted on bella, & her rejection of him, multiple times, broke the romantic connection that comes along with imprinting, but the “soulmate bond” essentially, or at least to jake, remained.

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Pain In Yellow

pairings: you x mark lee

genre: angst

summary: you never felt rejection as you used to think that its not that deep being rejected. but now you’re in that position and all you can do now was cry yourself to sleep.

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you always laughed at your friends for being rejected by the guys that they liked. thinking that being rejected is a normal thing and mustn’t be taken seriously. you always wonder why your friends always cried when they were rejected. is it THAT bad?

Keep reading

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Nate slams the front door behind him, the glass shakes in the pannel, he hardy notices as he starts storming upstairs.
“Hey!” Joanne called out, stood in the hallway, folding laundry to put on the radiator looks towards him concerned.
“Fuuuuck!” Nate threw his head back, stood on the stairs, face red as if it’s about to burst and tears already welling in his eyes.
“I don’t need her, I don’t need anyone! She thinks she can just replace me, replace our YEARS together with some bloke she’s known like ten minutes… She’s gonna come crawling back and I’m gonna have the biggest fuck-off smile on my face telling her to eat shit. How fucking dare she!”
Joanne looked flabbergasted, the several months they lived in the same house, he never said more than two words to her. Not knowing what to say she opted to say nothing. 
“You know she texted me this morning to meet her, said it was urgent… we’ve been trying for a baby… I thought… and then she brought him! She fucking brought him with her to end it. And then she had the audacity to laugh, LAUGH, when I asked if this was a joke…”
The pain in Nate’s voice started to come through like each word was covered with a mask of anger but with every voice crack came a new crack and the hurt was practically pouring out of him. Joanne just listened, looking up at him in horror at everything, she wanted to move closer, hold him, hold him together, stop the sad from escaping if that was even possible. She moved in closer but he held out his hand to stop her.
“Nah I’m strong, life has made damn sure of that through years of tearing me fucking down and each time who picked me back up? Yeah, that was me.”
He pushes all his bravado into that last sentence, there was a long pause, Nate looking down at his feet. Joanne looking at his face when his lip started to quiver, jaw clenched and tears streamed endlessly down his face.
“Why can’t she just love me like I love her, why do I have to be broken… defected… unlovable”
Joanne rushed up the few stairs and pulled him in close as his legs gave way and he broke down. He screamed and gripped her clothing, pulling her close and pushing his face into her chest. Swearing and begged. Seconds passed felt more like years. Joanne stroked his hair hushing reassuring things.
“There’s nothing wrong with you… You’re gonna be okay” She doubts he could hear her over his own wails. Tears started to hit her hand, she was crying too.

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