Freewrite

[Makenzie]

wow good writing*applause*

[[deleted user]]

Sometimes people are blind to reality. They believe that the world centers around them, and that their world is perfect…but that's not the truth. The truth is, the world doesn't care about the individual common person. Average citizens are regarded as insignificant. Only the political people are regarded significant, no one else. Also, our world is wrong in so many ways. Almost everything in this world is warped and twisted. One problem could be love. Because of the existence of love, sacrifice is born, as well as hate, and one comprehends, knows pain. Sacrifice leads to pain, and pain leads to hatred. That hatred causes a person to do something horrible to another person. Then someone connected to the victim of that hatred gets revenge. Then the other side gets revenge, and soon they're at war, locked in a cycle of hatred. Our world is an example of that. We are all trapped in a cycle of hatred, killing and being killed, hating and being hated, and we let ourselves be consumed by hate. Because of human nature, the world has become a cruel, horrible place.

[[deleted user]]

I'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm bored I NEED to work on my romance/dystopia story I'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm boredI'm bored.

[[deleted user]]

Maybe I'll put this in a novel or a story....? Who knows? I don't even know where it came from.

"I went to visit on the 1st of February. I remember it was snowing. Hospitals are awful places. I wonder what my friend was thinking, if anything.
I stepped into the room and saw Rain, the boy with a girls' name, the only one to live more than a day after some nameless individuals blew up the boys' wing of the school, lying motionless. I tried to smile as I approached, but I couldn't. I couldn't. 'It's all good,' I whispered. And then he opened his eyes. I know I was crying, and maybe he was too. It's hard to remember details like that. Anyway, the look he gave me clearly said, 'no it isn't'. I knew it would never be all good again.
He slipped away. The last survivor of the terrorism, the last one to steal my heart, was gone."

Again, I have no idea how I came up with it. :)

[[deleted user]]

I was just thinking about reading, and I thought something random:
"Wheeeeeeeeeeee, it's a must-read!"
Where did the "whee" come from? And what book was it? I don't know...

[[deleted user]]

I'll die for him. I'll die for the one who gave me a purpose in life. I'm his weapon, and sacrificing your weapon is normal. I told him during our first week together, "I will serve as your weapon and die as your weapon, so that you may achieve your lifelong dream." That is my purpose in life, nothing more, nothing less. It's my fate, and I gladly accept it. He gave me a reason to live, and I will repay him by sacrificing everything just for him. As long as I am of use to him, I will be happy. When I have no more use for him, I will die, so that I will not have to live without a purpose. He is everything, and I must protect that everything.

[Josie]

Its late....I need sleep but don't feel like sleeping. I'm too busy thinking. Do you ever get like that? Probably not. I'm just crazy. I wonder if he thinks about me like I think of him. Hmmm. I'm not even in the mood for music. This is strange. But proper grammar...proper grammar always. Goodnight.

[Sam~~ we cannot see the moon, and yet the waves still rise~~]

sooo i started to write, and then this happened? posting it because i feel like i want someone, somewhere, to know. is that weird? *shrugs*
---

Realization: I guess I need to do this to keep my sanity.
---
They tell you to write about happy things. Expect to see happy things. Butterflies, fairy wings, daisies and lilies and roses. No caterpillars. Not even an ant. Lady bugs are okay, maybe.

And it’s not that there aren’t lilies and roses in my life. There are, there are plenty. So why when I close my eyes do I only see those mossy-covered rocks and raspberry thorns?

We had a raspberry tree. I used to love it. Picking those beautiful reds, tender, be careful not to crush them or they’ll be all over your fingers and you’ll never get to taste their sweetness. There were thorns everywhere, raspberry bushes are full of thorns and prickly things, but I braved them all. I walked barefoot, or with shoes if Mom caught me before I stepped outside. I stepped on the smooth rocks. Let them caress the arches of my feet. Stood slightly stooped, wobbling, but unafraid. If I landed on a thorn, it would hurt, but it would also be okay: I’d be getting a raspberry out of the process.

Why now am I too scared to climb that rock? Stand close to the thorns? Pick that berry?

There were too many times when I felt like crying today. I was sitting in my friends’ room before. “Friends,” because that is a word they have used to describe me, and though I don’t know how or why they think that—how can I be a friend to anybody, how can anybody consider me one—I am grateful. I was laying on my friend’s bed, and we were quiet, and she was playing music on her ipod, and we were talking about things we both liked, and my chest got heavy. I got quiet. I wasn’t talking, so there wasn’t any talking to stop. She didn’t notice. Not because she didn’t care, but because she was listening to the music. Watching the video that went alongside it. I closed my eyes. I wanted to breathe and not breathe at the same time. I held my breath and my chest constricted and it felt like that point where you just start bawling but I waited and waited and I held my breath and bit my lip and it didn’t come. I needed it to come. I need this all to just go away.

Just go away. I can’t handle it. I don’t know how to act around people. To pretend that everything is normal, or to ignore it? If I ignore it, will it disappear, or will it continue to haunt me? Last night I told myself to shut up and stop thinking and took my sleeping pill and I fell asleep and it was okay. I tried to block every thought out. I don’t know how people do that. You know how people are like, I don’t think about anything when I do yoga? Or running? Or whatever? How do you do that? How do you think about nothing? How do you stop those thoughts from piling on top of each other, each one light but there are so many things that it just gets heavier and heavier? How do you make it all silent?

I’m thinking about the word “thoughtless”. I guess it’s supposed to mean that you have no thoughts about anyone else or what they must care about. But literally it just means you have no thoughts. Right now I feel like that must be good. It must be the life, having no thoughts. You can sit by the beach, watch the waves, smile. I don’t know the last time I actually smiled, as opposed to a half-smile. Is that a thing? Do people use that word that way? When I’m smiling, it’s because somebody’s watching. It’s because I’m supposed to. It’s because I hope it’ll make me happy. Just a little bit. Sometimes it works.

I don’t know what I’m writing. I thought I had control of a story, an inkling, something, I was going to write for the prompt but then it turned into this and, hey, one more thing I have no control over. This is fun. I should start counting. “Let’s see how many things occur in Sam’s life that she can’t do anything about.”

I just want to go back to being little. Sitting on the bench in my driveway in the summertime, the heat a welcome presence on my shoulder, the wind on my back from the trees behind me. I want to be that girl again, climbing on those rocks, reaching out a hand to pick a raspberry. Why is that so hard?

[Brigid ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.]

That's beautiful, Sam. And very relatable. I know what you mean about not being able to shut off your thoughts ... I don't get how people do that either. Wish it were possible for me. :-/ *hugs*

[Allison]

Kriss wrote: ""As an writer and a person, I constantly struggle with writing the unspeakable. Life is not a book. Life is a raw wound, throbbing with our hearts, indescribable and unnamed. I cannot possibly con..."

:) That made me smile.

[Allison]

Sam~ let all the voices stop~ wrote: "sooo i started to write, and then this happened? posting it because i feel like i want someone, somewhere, to know. is that weird? *shrugs*
---

Realization: I guess I need to do this to keep my sa..."

Sooo true and really good.

[Unknown poet (Anna)]

Rikki wrote: "Is it just me or do you get the best ideas when you're about to fall asleep. Or maybe you're home sick... BOOM ideas all around you. But no pen and paper. Not even anything that remotely close to e..."

YES I tried to get up to write it down, and I fell asleep before I finished writing my ideas. I guess it's when our brain relaxes more.

[Unknown poet (Anna)]

Conversation that happened with another person

Me:Hey listen people. Hmm will people actually listen?
Me:It's never happened before
Person: Guess what?
Me:What?
Person:I'm listening
Me:but now I'm not talking
Person:So why did you want people to listen if you weren't going to talk
Me: I didn't think someone would actually listen!
Person: oh so it was rethorical?
Me: no! I wanted someone to listen
Person: then why did you want someone to listen if you weren't going to talk
Me: I'm sorry I was in the middle of a deep conversation that you interrupted
Person: but no one else is here!
Me: exactly

The person just walked away shaking his head.