#writesitas

[im-telling-a-story]

Most days I dream of leaving home.

Of the idea that millions of possibilities lie out there for me - millions, or even billions, of variations of this one timeline in which I can be whoever I want to be.

Whoever I possibly and impossibly can be.

Unshackled from the fate of this town.

Unmoored from the traps of the hereditary.

Moving away has never seemed so wonderful.

So scary.

So improbably probable.

Because, the fact is, this life - the one a person leads when they are cemented to this ground, to this town - is one that seems to me as a lower band of hell.

For I do not aspire to be them, I aspire to be more.

More than my fate, more than my destiny, more than who I am now.

Just more.

And so now, all I have to do is start.

Should be simple - right?

#writesitas #writing #author #poetry #original content #original poem #original post #wildest dreams

[im-telling-a-story]

Oh I feel a tumbr post coming on…..

The one person I feel I can truly call my best friend lives half way across the world.

And that’s not necessarily because I tell her everything, or we talk everyday, because we don’t.

And I don’t think that’s needed with us.

I mean, I could be wrong, but it really feels like we are close even across time zones.

And I do have amazingly good friends who live in the same time zone as me, in the same country - hell even in the same town. Friends I see every day.

But the way I know how that she’s one of the good ones, one of the true ones, is because even after all that time apart, both physically and mentally, we always manage to find our ways back to each other.

And I mean I hate the internet for so many reasons, but I love it so much for this one - we always find each other again.

It’s been years - I think maybe even a decade now. And we’ve only seen each other without a screen for less than 3 years of that, but we still get back to each other.

I don’t know - maybe this should have stayed in the drafts but as I get older I feel myself slipping away from many of my friends. We are maturing in different directions. But this one friend and I - we seem to be, at the very least, some what parallel. At least for now.

And yes, this is incredibly cheesy. And yes, we will probably go down different paths in life, but here we are. Planning a catch up on FaceTime - something we haven’t done in over a year, and probably a year before that - we’re making our way back.

Once again.

#writesitas #friends #friendship #writing #feelings #chance #growin’ up

[im-telling-a-story]

‘Rest a while - enjoy the view. Remember it when dark clouds loom.’

I’ve been having a tough time lately - one that’s partly of my own creation. And it just really hits me that sometimes you need to stop. Halt your movement. Rest.

The bench was almost overgrown - people were not taking its advice.

So, I took some time. 13 minutes to be exact. Time to talk to someone I love, someone who knows me more than anyone - my mum. And it helped. It really did.

We laughed and loved, chatting about cats, and crafts and curtains. I sat on this here bench, and took time to myself. Away from all the chaos and calamity, from the worry and pain and strife. Time to be me. To be artistic. To be poetic. To be free.

Time to be.

I took time to rest, enjoy the view - time to remember when it gets almost inevitably tougher in the next few days.

#writesitas #original poem #time to rest #writing

[im-telling-a-story]

We are but stardust and stories,

And this fact comforts me.

For if I were but stardust,

I would shine for all the globe to see.

And if I were, as dreamed, but stories,

But MY stories,

Then I would live in a land of love and hope and sadness and most of all possibilities.

For if I were but my stories,

I would be a human unstopped, unarced, unhurt.

If I were made of stories, and living in the stardust, I would be me - and all the possible versions of me all at once.

I would be a multitude.

I would but be lost, but found amongst the tall tales of friends and foes.

I would be all I can be, and all I ever will be.

(Picture not mine, writing is mine)

#writesitas #poetry #writing #stories #my poem #tellingstories

[im-telling-a-story]

All I feel is a disconnect.

Like our fundamental priorities don’t match.

And I think that’s the hardest thing to accept.

That I want to walk one away, and they want to go another.

It’s not that I can’t see the appeal of the other way, but mine seems more nuanced.

More individual.

More me.

I really want to go their way, but there’s something pulling me back to my own path.

Maybe it’s a potential for greatness.

Or maybe it’s a great tragedy (or even the other way around).

But I truly do not know.

There are more and more questions, and less and less answers.

#writesitas #writing #future #author #poetry

[im-telling-a-story]

Exams are metrics that can’t contain all of the beauty of a human soul, and they can’t measure you. You won’t be a disappointment, you will flourish doing something else - something that you absolutely love.

#writesitas #examstress #help lol

[im-telling-a-story]

May - the changing of the tides

May began like a fervent tide, launching me into a new year of my life. A year in which big decisions will deem to change my life, and possibly even determine my future.

17

17 years of love, of laughter, of hurt, of heartache, 17 years of this earthly plane that has given me so much, yet also taken so much away.

17 years of decisions.

Years and years of decisions yet to come.

I think that, deep down, this is what scares me. Every adult I talk to say they are jealous, that I have every opportunity and choice open to me.

If this is true, what happens when I pick the wrong one? When I look back, in 5 or 10 or 20 years, or hell even 1, and I regret it. I fear that in my 17 years I have had this happen, and I know people say to never regret choices, and you should just learn from mistakes. But it’s so hard to learn from them when you were just doing what you were told - be a good daughter, be nice, make good choices.

What is a good daughter? What is nice? What is a good choice?

Am I good enough?

And if it’s not true, and things like covid and mental and physical illness have limited my choice, then what do I do with what I have left? I don’t think I have all of the opportunities. I don’t think I have all of the knowledge I need to make smart choices.

I fact I know that, deep down, there is some missing piece. The ‘answer’ - whatever the fuck that means.

So many choices. So many questions. So much time - and yet so little.

Do I want the answer? Or is going in blind better?

#writesitas #art #artists on tumblr #written #turning the tides #choices #author

[im-telling-a-story]

so, april

It’s been a month - I feel like my life is evolving.

I’m guessing that most of you have heard of evolution. I think that when people grow and change, they evolve. At least, I hope they do. Because if not, then all these people, people I’ve known my whole life, are changing for the worse. Or maybe just the worse for me. Evolution is the action of adapting to new circumstances. Maybe I need to go with them, follow the crowd for once, evolve for the better. Or maybe, I stick it out. Don’t give in to the norm. I feel like giving in would break me. But, then again, I feel close right now. They say pressure creates diamonds, but I think I’m just crumbling. I always try to push through. And, if I were in the mood to change, I feel as though I would give up. So maybe, staying the while, keeping to how I am, is better. Creating a change is tough. Staying who you are in the face of difficult change is even more difficult.

Will I suffer, will I survive, or will I thrive?

#writesitas #stayingthechange #april

[im-telling-a-story]

hi

I guess I’m new to this, but welcome one and welcome all to what is sure to be a show (probably one that flops, but hey, worth a try! I hope...)

I’m a writer, I write, I’m so quirky and original, I know ;)

#writesitas