I was cleaning out my armoire last night, and found some old notebooks of mine, when I first learned that I loved to write... I was really angsty. Anyways.

Forget the times you walked by,
forget the times you made me cry.
Forget the times you held my hand,
forget the sweetest things if I can.
I can no longer pretend,
I have to remember you're just my ( Read more... )

 A/N: if this makes no sense, it's because I'm high.

With shaking hands, she plaited her wet hair. No one was home with her this late at night; they all had other friends to go to. Swallowing another pill, she collapsed onto her unmade bed and shut her eyes in an attempt to block out the darkness that she could swear was coming alive. It was too ( Read more... )

A/N: this is important. this is the first of the two-parter I couldn't put into one entry. So read this one first.

He sat bolt upright in bed, covered in sweat and breathing hard. His dreams were getting more and more frequent and if he wasn't careful, he knew he'd go insane.

Rolling out from under the sheets, he quickly dressed and left the hostel ( Read more... )

The room looked the same, smelled the same as when he was here yesterday, but immediately he could tell that something was strikingly different.

He wasn't alone this time; two other people already occupied the room. One was her, the girl, but instead of seeing her as he had imagined, calm and composed as she sat writing at her desk, she was standing ( Read more... )

A/N: I think third time's the charm, because this is my favorite snippet of "writing on the wall." yes, it has a title now. after the second installment, i figured something this good couldn't go without a name. i know this is good. i like to write. i like to read what i've written. and i don't like to read something that's not good. so without ( Read more... )

The room was empty, but he could still feel a presence lingering.

He stepped into the room, saturated with stale air and fine dust, and looked around. There was only one window that had been barred from the outside, like something out of a prison cell. The room was on the top floor of the building, and even though he had only been standing in it for ( Read more... )

She wrote furiously, the sweat streaming down her furrowed brow. Words formed at the speed of light at the end of her fingertips. Her hands started to cramp, but she didn't care. Her physical pain didn't matter. Her mental fatigue didn't matter. All that mattered was the writing. It came upon her like a demon, and she could not think of anything ( Read more... )