Writings - Blog Posts

Cats will be cats

I want to love and be loved. I want to find a way where I don’t hurt myself. I want to live a life where I say things are good more than things are bad. I want to keep failing and discovering new and better directions. I want to enjoy the tides of feeling in me as the rhythms of life. I want to be the kind of person who can walk inside the vast darkness and find the one fragment of sunlight I can linger in for a long time. Some day, I will.

Baek Sehee, tr. by Anton Hur, from I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki

Katie Ford, from If You Have to Go: Poems; “The Addresses”

[Text ID: “That’s love? to remember I’m remembered? / But I wish someone wanted to have me. / There’s a difference,”]

Forugh Farrokhzad, tr. by Sholeh Wolpé, from “On Loving”, Sin

Dark femininity literally transformed my life. You can call it what you want, it's simply about embracing your darkness, letting go of "being too much" or not being "perfect". It's about setting boundaries. It's giving yourself permission to be authentic, passionate, beautifully imperfect and raw, falling shamelessly in love with yourself, and most important of all, being fiercely protective of yourself (your inner child, your vulnerability, your softness).

Ladies, you need that edge, that boundary. Without it, you're an overflowing ocean that can be easily scattered or exploited. The only way to preserve your softness is learn how to be your own guardian first and foremost; because it's not possible nor healthy to always depend on others to do it for you.

Yehuda Amichai, from Selected Poetry of Y. Amichai; “Poems for a Woman,”

Anaïs Nin, from a novel titled "A Spy in the House of Love," published in 1954

𝐤𝐢𝐤𝐢 / 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐨 / 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 / 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟎

𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌/𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 / 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 .ᐟ

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 / 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆

— this blog contains, shares, and supports nsfw and dark content, so please make sure to have an age listed on your blog, otherwise i will soft block you — sorry about that .ᐟ

— i only write with an afab / female-centric reader in mind, but will try to keep it gender neutral as much as i can .ᐟ

— right now, i do not take requests, but please don't let that stop you from sharing your thoughts, concepts, or ideas — at best, i will still try to write something about them if i can .ᐟ

— all characters i write will be aged up (unless they are already of age, or stated otherwise) to twenty one, or will follow their age post time-skip if applicable .ᐟ

— this is a semi-personal blog, so it will contain some unrelated posts which will be tagged as [#★ — kiki coded.] so you can blacklist it .ᐟ

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄

— character/character, infidelity, mommy/daddy kink, breeding, weight fetishes, ageplay, student/teacher, unrequited love, polyamorous relationships, urination/faeces kink .ᐟ

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆

𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀 — dabi/touya, shouto, bakugou, izuku, shigaraki .ᐟ 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍 — gojo, yuuji, megumi, yuuta .ᐟ

thank you for making it this far — have a free song for your troubles .ᐟ

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 — adrianne lenker — forwards beckon rebound .ᐟ

The fate of darkness

it’s always the same feeling 

isolation despair sorrow helplessness 

people make living out to be some thrill ride that one should never get off of

but i just want to un loosen the seatbelt and let myself fall

the ups and downs are overwhelming 

why is it that everyone else gets better while i stay the same 

why can’t i go one second without wanting to die

is it too much too ask? has the world given everyone but me an opportunity to truly be happy 

no matter how much medicine how much therapy how much time i go through 

i’m always stuck in the same 4 glass walls watching everybody else be free 

no matter how much hardships others seem to be going through why do they get some reliefs of conflict while i continue on trying to act like i’m unfazed or not envious of other’s lives 

is it a cruel fate to which i am to live?

would it even matter if i were anyone else since misery has taken a claim on me

changing who i am, wanting to think i’m better cannot hide the resentment and fury i feel within me

i really wish i could say fuck it and just pretend that trying to love myself is all i need to do

but no matter how much i try it seems loving myself is something that just wasn’t meant for me 

the dark suspicious isolated awkward reluctant disgusting figure that seems to ruin everyone’s life 

but how silly of me to think so highly of myself

im not even a thought in others minds 

i cease to exist and no matter how much i think of others not a single penny of thought is given towards me

but hey at least im alive right? because being alive is what everyone wants me to be right?

yet where are those same people when i just want to say hi, have someone to actually talk to

no, no it’s only me 

of course there is the more pretty social person they would rather converse with

if dying would rid me of my conscience i would do it in a heartbeat 

if dying meant people would actually think about me for one, even for just a moment in time i’d close my eyes and let the darkness take me

Picture credit: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/591378994853108153/

Your chocolate brown hair that always seems to be flattened in a baseball cap, and when you take it off there it is the side part that I make fun of all the time.

Not in a I hate you way, but in a way that makes you adorable. Is it weird noticing these things about you? But I notice all types of things like this with others all the time.

The boy that rides the bus at 7:10am with me and his black Bose headphones or the girl who I briefly passed by for a few seconds and her scent of coconut perfume. I remember it all. So it isn’t new to me, but what it is, is scary. Because I care about what you think of me in return so much.

I am certain you know I exist, a familiar face, maybe not my name, which is fair because I do the same. Rather I want to get to know you, yes you are handsome, you’re just my type and yes I’ve imagined scenarios, but what I want to happen the most is to be friends. I’ve never believed in love— no scratch that, I do believe in love, but I don’t believe in it for myself.

I am young, I have been reckless and I most certainly have failed relationship after relationship.

That’s why, I don’t care about getting hurt, but I care about being so perfectly happy when it isn’t true.

I dream of a perfect man, a perfect love not in the definition of perfect itself, but rather the perfect in how he’ll buy me my favorite pants and flowers, open the door for me, stand on the outside by the street, hold hands as much as possible, lean down to hear me and whisper the most outlandish words into my ears at an inappropriate time.

Cook with me, dance the night away, always have open arms, listen to my rants and have the ops, let me cling to him physically and help me bench press and give me kisses as rewards.

That’s the perfect thing that I want, for him to be attractive to me, tall, funny, have a beautiful smile, in essence to sweep me off my feet. I want to believe you are this man, but maybe you are, just not mine. I guess I have to be fine with that, and if I never become your friend at least, I guess I really don’t believe in love.

Maybe one day I’ll be confident enough in myself to not care what the outcome is. I know life is short, I tell myself that all of the time; I hear it and I see it.          

Photo credits: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/88594317663530037/

Doesn't a word look weird when we stare at it long enough? Doesn't the alphabet look slightly meaningless when we write it over and over again? Here's one: CLING C-LING, C-L-ING, C-L-I-NG, C-L-I-N-G. Does this make sense? It doesn't sound like a word the more you say it. It doesn't look like a word the more you write it. The curves and strokes, dots and dash!

Isn't it how the name of the people you love changes? At some point, it stops being a name, a word that belongs to them. It becomes a feeling that belongs to you. It stops sounding like a word or a random string of letters. It becomes a string of feelings you cling to when life falls apart. Their name on your phone screen stops looking like a word. Every notification and phone call conjures an image of them looking at you and smiling before you can even look at it twice. That particular string of curves and strokes, dots and dash Once belonged to them and is now beloved by you Which you randomly write in the air because it gives you comfort.

Sometimes we take names for granted without realizing the power it holds. When all it takes is that one word to appear on your screen to get you through another tiring day.

reporting live from the war inside my head.

Ah!, hey you.

Give me the doll. Here it is. Give me my doll! I already told you to take it, here. Give my doll back! What, you can't reach it? Mom!! Give it back, honey. Ok, here you have it.  No! What are you doing? Mom!! He threw it out the window! I didn't! It's here, look. He tricked me.  What a crybaby, can't you take a joke even once? Don't play like that. I'm not playing: I want him to give me my doll. Give the doll or I'll punish you. Mom, he's got an ugly look.  Why'd you tell her?: now I'll keep it. Stop it, I can't turn around in the middle of the road… Enough is enough!  You're moving too much. Stop fighting!  Mom, watch out!…

Gastón R. Fernández G.

When I was in fourth grade, I wanted to read Harry Potter. Someone in my class told me I couldn’t because it wasn’t in my level and I wouldn’t understand it. I read Harry Potter just to spite him. I’ve reread it a million times, it’s one of my favourites. I realised after reread and reread that I didn’t understand it in fourth grade. When I was in sixth grade, I wanted to read the classics. I read the Bell Jar, Red Badge of Courage, Shakespeare, and as many as I could find. I couldn’t tell you what they said. But I looked like I could read at a higher level than I could. I read the same books and plays in high school. They made sense, I enjoyed them, I read them not to prove something but because I wanted to. When I was in eighth grade, I only read murder mysteries and criminal books. That’s what more advanced readers read. I wanted to prove that I could read as well as someone twice, three times my age. I enjoyed them, but it was because I was proving something. When I was in college I reread the series of unfortunate events. I loved every single book, every single line. I’d forgotten what it was like to read a book because I wanted to. I read young adult novels more than anything because I like them. I don’t care that they’re below my level, that they’re ‘too’ young for me. I don’t care that people see me reading them. I realised something. I was taught to read because I needed to. Intelligent people read, that’s how people become smart. Reading isn’t a waste of time like television. I wasn’t taught to love to read. No one is. I found a love of reading by giving up the idea that people gave a shit if I read or not. I enjoy it more than I should. I realised that instead of instilling the idea of doing something because it’s expected or because someone should do something, instill the idea of doing something because you want to. Instill the idea that happiness comes from what we choose, not what others have chosen for us. I realised that when I’m happiest, when I have the most joy, it’s when I do something for me. It’s when there are no expectations, no drive to prove someone wrong. I realised that my happiest when all inhibitions and perceptions are gone. Maybe that’s how we should enjoy our hobbies.

KJS // Advice for someone hiding themselves (via wyattwesleywriting)

Unresolved

Scraping past a tooth, a fingernail grows thin;

The last evidence of a life lost in time

Is this dead keratin.

Swirls from the mind, consuming everything,

Cement uncertainty in the soundest mind,

Loosening grip within.

Each day starts anew, by popular belief;

Yet all is the same except the white numbers,

Not turning a new leaf.

Moving, yet static motions of tumbling grief

Are borne by bodies smoldering to cinders,

Never able to leave.

https://twwrt.wordpress.com/2022/11/21/unresolved/

Dr. Jekyll quietly worked on arranging some paperwork, a small breeze blowing in from the window and causing the edges of the papers to softly curl, Jekyll taking a single moment to smooth them back down.

Somewhere in the distance, the gentle sound of a piano could be heard playing from a nearby building. It would play the same few steps of a single tune, occasionally making a mistake before restarting the same tune following a gap of silence. Alongside it, the occasional sound of chatter and horses could be heard from the street.

After some time, Jekyll would quietly stand up, taking the papers and walking to the bookshelf where he would remove a folder and slip the papers inside. Then, he would tuck the folder into the back and return to his desk, taking a moment to look out the window and listen to the musical tune play gently; finally finishing the tune to the fullest for the first time since it had started before quieting.

Merlin in Hogwarts

No , but can you imagine- the one and only , almighty wizard , known for centuries as a legend , so famous his name is used as an exclamation yet so old the truth about him actually being alive is forgotten . Shows up at Hogwarts.

Because if you are an almighty immortal wizard , waiting for some *cough- pratish cough cough king to return , you would absolutely do weird and crazy pranks on everybody .

I can just imagine a young boy , seemingly out of nowhere arriving at Hogwarts . And of course Hogwarts is very organized and they should know where he came from , but hey , he has everything ready for studying and they just don’t have the time to check every student , so he just begins his studying with a wide grin . Sure something seems off , but the teachers just hope it’s nothing Voldemort-big and go on . But time passes and teachers do notice some weird stuff. Like the fact that after his arrival dragons come flying near Hogwarts which were not seen for centuries and the monsters in the lake stir more than usual . And that this small boys wand looks more like a miniaturized staff and the fact that he was seen casting spells no one has ever heard , but hey , who are they to judge .

And Merlin enjoys it so much . He was so caught up in all the history and mourning that he forgot how great it felt to be young and have friends . Though it is confusing for him when there are lots of “ oh Merlin “ or “ Merlins beard !“ exclamations going on .

And heck yeah he pranks everyone and tells them he is the real Merlin and he’s almighty , but everyone just takes it as a joke and laughs . So he pranks teachers and casts spells that mess up Hogwarts and all but everyone just adores him and thinks he’s cute.

Until one time something comes up and they realize : oh shit . He is the real Merlin

I dreamt of a dark and failing world. Where I met an Artist who wept for his wife. "Oft people believe that better is a lingered life. I tell you different now, which of these would you prefer Rotting or Dying. Dead is better."

And later in this dream a giant disembodied hand that blazed and burned, took the man's aisle and turned it upside down. There he was burned and crucified. Leaving only ashes of an artist and a painting of his wife.

Mahmoud Darwish, from The Butterfly's Burden; "Maybe, Because Winter Is Late,"

Love my girlie anne <3

Anne Sexton, from a letter featured in Anne Sexton; A Self-Portrait In Letters

im so close to transforming this cute rom-com to a murderous book highlighting female rage and pure survival game, i need serious help atp

When I was in twelfth grade, I came across this fabulous writer on Wattpad. They highlighted themes of love and platonic relationships and a strong sense of nostalgia. Pretty intense and very beautifully written. Now at that time, I just wasn't mature enough to understand each and every verse, I just wasn't able to, though I tried a lot lol. The books used to make me cry a lot, a lot (I mean a lot okay, u don't understand). Now they've deleted those books, and I have nothing to return to. I'm only left w memories of them. And now when I can understand them, I can't read them . There is nothing to go back to. And sometimes, I wish, they could republish them, istg ghar baar chor ke I'll read them. And I only have brief memories of those writings, if they publish it, mai toh khareed lungi jaldi se

Out of a dream

summary : you and THE harry styles had a one night stand.. the night was a blur so the morning you wake up you’re quite surprised.

warnings : mentions of sex, swearing, fluff?? pls let me know if there was anything else!!

*HEY GUYS!!! first of all I want to thank you for everything on my first ever writing post, i know it’s not the best thing you’ve ever read, it’s definitely not the best thing I’ve written but I didn’t expect that much love. I’m so sorry for just disappearing, life has been very busy but I will get back to things soon! p.s this is how y/n will be in most of my writings, not shy, very outgoing and sarcastic!!!*

Last night was very much a blur.

The only thing you remember was drinking at a random club in the Hollywood Hills, then stumbling into a SUV before everything else was just a blackout.

Waking up to the sun beaming onto your face, your eyes flutter open, hand coming up to block the bright light from your eyes. Although everything seems quite normal, you feel a heavy thing over your torso and a soft aroma of a Tom Ford cologne, pushing yourself up quickly you scan the room, confused on how you might of ended up here.

Well, you already know because the most logical reason would be that you wanted to get someone’s dick wet. You look down to see if the man you pleasured was good looking at-least and-

“Holy fuck.” Your eyes widen, your heart beating out of your chest as you freeze. Harry fucking Styles is sleeping right beside you, curls sticking up left and right, you realise his face was buried into your stomach because of the red mark on it.

You also realise you both were naked, quickly scrambling out of the bed- or wait, his bed. You grab your panties from the floor pulling them up, panic mode absolutely activated.

You hear him moving on the bed, sheets rustling as he sits up, glancing to him he’s stretching his arms above his head, turning his head to you and you notice the panic now evident on his face.

“Hey.. uhh, are you okay? Did I scare you or something, I promise I didn’t kidnap you.” He watches you as you put on your bra, grabbing your shirt and jeans to put on.

“I didn’t realise I literally just fucked Harry Styles, sorry.” Looking into the full-size mirror he has next to the bed you fix your hair up, not noticing how he’s got out of his bed and put his boxers back on, you also didn’t notice how he winced from what you said, he didn’t like when he was labeled as just a famous celebrity a random girl had fucked after having the best sex he’s ever had.

“Hey, chill out. Calm down I’m not gonna like bite you or anything. Unless..” he walks up behind you, looking at you through the mirror.

“Harry, this isn’t funny. 15 year old me would be absolute screaming right now that I actually finally fucked Harry Styles.” Your face blooms in redness at the confession, you see him raise his eyebrows in the mirror, smiling.

“‘S really cute y’know, your dream coming true. You don’t have to go right now.” His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you back into his chest as you keep your eyes on yourself in the mirror, clipping your earrings back into your ears.

You practically lose your breath as his hands caress your hips, all you want to do is pounce onto him and fuck him yet again. But you can’t, you always tended to have attachment issues and having them with Harry Styles was not the way to go.

You had to continue on with life and hide the fact that you hooked up with Harry in the back of your head.

“I have to go, Harry. I have a home and a life, maybe we can hook up some other time in like 3005 or something!” You muster up a smile for him, turning to look up at him, his eyes shine a beautiful emerald green, a dimple pokes out of his cheek, his lips a beautiful shade of pink.

Oh you wanted him so bad again, you knew Harry, from his music of course but you didn’t know or let’s say like him enough to be a fan, that’s for sure. He tugs on your hips again, your hands coming to his waist to brace yourself.

You did wonder if this is what the routine was with all his hookups, fuck them till he was satisfied? Part of you also didn’t think so as he was such a gentleman.

“Come on, darling. Jus’ a little bit longer? I promise, this is not what happens wit’ all the girls I have seen.” The pet name makes you all giddy, your hand coming up to comb through his chocolate curls.

“Are you just trying to make me feel bad for you so then I can follow your music and promote it and whatever?” You ask, eyebrow raising. You see he’s taken aback by that, his eyebrows creasing.

“No, no! Y/N im so sorry if it looks that way, oh my god. I promise that’s not- that’s definitely not what I’m trying to do.” You giggle at his panic, a little surprised that he remembered your name.

“I’m just kidding.” You smile as he pushes his bottom lip out in a soft pout, without thinking you push up onto your tippy toes, pressing your lips against his soft ones, he kisses you back almost instantly, innocently pecking your lips a few times before he slips his tongue into your mouth.

Harry then lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he moves back to the bed, mumbling something softly against your lips.

“Maybe you could give me your number or something if I prove to you that the night was really worth it.” He pulls away, a smirk on his lips, you laugh, biting your bottom lip softly.

“Yeah, yeah. Dream on Watermelon Sugar singer.”

You see a spark in his eyes and as he leans back in to kiss you again your vision goes black.

You feel heat on your body and your eyes snap open, the sun beaming on you, yet again. You look around the room, sitting up, you’re in your own room. You look beside you, a messy empty spot beside you.

Your head then whips to someone walking into the bedroom, it was your fiancée, a bright smile planted on his face seeing you’re finally awake.

“You were having a good dream so I didn’t want to wake you, sounded like you were having fun.” He wiggles his eyebrows, coming to move onto the bed, pulling you into his chest.

“Yeah, it was about the first time i met you.” You plant a kiss onto his bare chest, arms wrapping around his waist.

“Ohh, s’right when I was Watermelon Sugar boy.” He smiles, kissing the top of your head. “Lucky you finally gave into giving me your number and accepted me into your life, hey? Now m’getting married to my one night stand in two weeks.”

“You’re still a loser, Harry. And no I’m still not following your Spotify even when we’re married.” You mumble against him.

“Dang it.”

hehe lol this has no plot xx

dividers by @firefly-graphics 🤍

'what is said with the eyes, is not forgotten.'

sometimes I wonder if you can miss someone you've never met. a quiet yearning in my heart, and no one to tell.

Margaret Atwood, from a poem titled "Pig Song," featured in Paper Boat: Selected Poems

Arabic poetry on top>>

— Mahmoud Darwish, Mural

Never Mind 8

Hi! It's time for new part of Never Mind. I can say that this part is one I like myself. It's not like amazing and so deep and emotional part but I like it.

Why I did it? Why I went to him? Why I crabbed him? Why I crabbed his neck and not hand? Why I made him die? Why I had to choke him? Why I did it? Why I started becoming a monster that had spoken even before I was born? Just why did I born if it never meant to happen? Those question ran circle inside my head and they were making me crazy. Why went there? I need him and not only now but I will need him in future. I was just looking him and watch him try to breath. He tried to get my hands off around his neck. But I didn't let go. I made him die. No one haven't told me to do it but I still did it. I choked him and listened him say 'I love you'. Goosebumbs ran on my skin and left cold touch on it. I didn't cry and I left like I was wachting myself outside my body. But I felt my cold andhollow body around me. The boy was the most dearest person to me. So why just the freaking why I did let him die by my hands?

-Hey, what are doig here?

A hand placed on my shoulder. I did not want anyone to come and bother me now. I stood up and hit him with all my strenght and the person fell onto floor.

-None if your buisness asshole

I grabbed the man's feet and dragged him to others. I have had other people knock out before him. I did not want anyone to bother me. Then I just went to desk and found paper and pencil. I wrote "I don't know, maybe I was afraid and maybe I still am scared. You won't wait me with happy smile on your face anymore, not after you find out that your son died by my hands."

Then I just looked the note little time. I left the note and took that beautiful pencil with me. Then I heard some weak voice from pile of unmissed people. I opened a window other side of the room. I put my hood cover my head, white mask to cover my face and still once I scanned the room, then I escaped through the narrow window to lightless night.

Nevermind 2

Hello again!

I have written something a long time and I call them Neverminds. It has almost 60 parts and if it doesn’t bother anyone I would like to share them or at least bests of them. Everyone isn’t so long and they might not be in right order as I post them but main thing is that it’s a same story and main charachter is same girl all the time. But now here you have another part. I hope someone likes it :)

I stood there with my hands bounded. Rope hurt my wrists. A man has tight them too hard. I had thrown in middle of those selfish monster. Even their look stick my skin when they estimated me. It felt like tiny little sticks tried to cover under my skin. There was two ghost standing right behind me or next to me, I wasn’t sure because I didn’t see them. And now agin I wondered how my mom and dad brought me here. They must have know that this is the place where devil was scared to come.

- You didn’t mind to kill one of us so we don’t mind to kill her.

I heard over monster’s scratchy voice how they brought in a tiny girl who had dirty black hair and chains holding her legs together. They left her between me and those five devils front of me. They used the girl as a shield. I couldn’t walk up to them and rip off their deadly handsome faces. They took chains off from a girl and let her free. Girl still wasn’t going anywhere. She just shaked still. When she lifted up her green eyes I could see all the fear they had caused to her and that fear have lived there already a long time. Wierd thing for me was that I couldn’t see any sing of tired on her face. They haven’t tortured her. I was reliefed. They only made her scare. I coudln’t handle more guilty anymrore. I already felt for guilty of that they caught her. I looked her into eyes and saw her fear. It was growing and becoming horror. Normally humasn can’t handle it this long. She was strong. I heard how a knife were taken out of its cover. Tear dropped on the girl’s beautiful face.The knife reached her neck. Sudenly my mouth became dry even thought I wasn’t sad. I was empty. Heard giant snap when someone broken her neck.

- Brea! I screamed. They couldn’t do this. - NO! Brea!

I yank rope aorunf my hands but it didn’t gave in. It didn’t get my hands free. I screamed, growled and spit on them. Desperation started to eat me inside. They couldn’y do this.My wrists bleed when I struggled with the rope. Then I heard girl screaming. It cut the air and broke my heart. One of those mant ghost took his knofe too and went to girl and other backed off. He cut her skin and she started to bleed clear red blood. My breatheing became faster and O screamed as a phsyco. I hated that feeling but I had to do it. I kenw the girl would be scare of me afterwards. Just like everyone was. My voice of screaming became higher and it changed. They lifted the knife to her neck and gashed long scracth there. I knew that they was going to make her die slow just for me.

- Brea! I screamed her.

Spittel slpashed out off my mouth. My ghostly glow started to fill the whole room. It was more whtie than ghost sheet or snow. My voice resonate everywhere and I yell from the bottom of my soul. I swooped to person next to the girl and I didn’t gave a damn about his knife. But he went through me and I tried to keep myself standing. I couldn’t do anything to that man. I psuhed the girl to the ground and I saw how her body just flopped down painfully. Blood on her neck splashed on me. Someone dragged the rope around my wrists and I almost fell. I yell from the pain. I couldn’t gave up because girl wasn’t dead. I still had hope. I looked around and saw in this dark hall how every ghost here was comig this way. I reached the hands holding my rope and I pressed my nails into the meat. It hurt my hands so much but I just bit my teeth together. I felt little joy when man moans like death. It shooted my ears. I fell next to the girl on the ground and looked her in panic. I turned around so I could grab her shirt with my hands. Shirt was slippery because of blood but I hold it tight. I started to tote her fast. She was heavy and my weak wrists couldn’t carry it so long. A man attacked me and dragged me on the ground. Adrenaline was already swimming in blood and takeing over the pain and feelings. I kicked him with my heels and this time them didn’t went through him. I got wound of his knife on my back but he fall down on the ground. Something sharp cut my hands and same it cut my rope. My hands started bleeding but I didn’t care. At least my hands is free now. The man on the ground tried to turn back towards me. I kicked him to stomach and grabbed the rope around his neck. I tied it hard so I didn’t need to watch him die and I could go to girl. Pound of blood under the girl was growing all the time and it made me sick. One of ghosts collapsed on my back and pulled his knife on armpit. I screamed again and its power almost paralyzed me. Then my dark side took over me. It filled all my sences and it made me ignore the deadly pain in my armpits. Then I just disapeared from them. I became a ghost. At this point I could’ve handle everything but now I broke down. Tears run on my cheeks and they blur my eyes. All work I’ve done hear to not break down just walked out of the door. I was too young for this. I couldn’t resist things longer. I closed my eyes and tears ran harder. My ear filled of voices that makes humans go crazy. All I heard was screaming and moaning. Those were voice which was only in fairytale’s dark forests hunting. I pulled girl’s hair away and looked her. Wound on her neck wasn’t so bad but it was bleeding badly. Others ghosts went off too. I couldn’t see them either. I grabbed her shirt and lug her behind me. We had to get out of here fast. She hasn’t died yet. Don’t worry, she is still alive. I tried to calm myself down. My hands shaked for pain and trying hold on the shirt. Darkness was fallen and I couldn’t see anyone. I tried to be careful where I passed but I still kind of ran across the hall. My hold slipped when someone yelled right next to me. My consciousness faltered already in unconsciousness and my thought has messed up. All I tasted and smelled was blood. I felt blood on my own shirt and how it drained down my back like cold sweat. I bumped to big woody door. We had got across the room. I almost jumped for joy. I opened the door. It was a mistake because silence filled the room and I could even hear everyone turn around. They felt comig air. I wrenched the broken girl out of the door and closed the door right behind. I took a better grip the girl and ran. We might go away but we still will leave blood behind us. I didn’t regonize this place and it had many halls where to turn but didn’t which way we should head so I kept just running forward and I hoped I will not bump to walls. I took fright when I heard them again. They were chaising us again. I couldn’t tell how far they were but I could say they will cautch us soon. My consciousness throw half way to edge of unconsciousness. Stargger while running and I fell for stair front of us. I feel every bone inside me and which way my blood is running. The girl rolls right behind me ja her flabby body lands on me. We will got caught now. Then I fall down to unconsciousness.

Linda Pastan, from Insomnia: Poems; “Fingerprints”

Yrsa Daley-Ward, from bone; “waiting for the check to clear”

Cut out the pain and pull out its insides. When you know what it's made of, you'll know how to kill it.

Beware, not all pain is an enemy.

Anne Sexton, from a letter featured in Anne Sexton; A Self-Portrait In Letters