I feel like I have nothing left to write these days. Instead of creating, I’ve been sitting on my bed in a vegetative state, guilt accumulating with every sip of wine I take. I know I should be writing—or doing something, anything. Sometimes, I catch myself simply waiting for nightfall, just so I can curl up and pretend to sleep, though occasionally, I find myself fantasizing instead.
emotional writing
Author | Audiobook narrator | Singer
Dead Poet – Absence
Any words I manage to put down feel dull and meaningless—especially compared to you, or the kind of love and admiration that has been, is, and always will be within me. I have carried it with pride, deep within my heart, shielded from the harsh realities of this world. Sometimes it feels like the purest thing I’ve ever known; other times, it feels as though I’ve sold my soul to this love, just to feel anything at all. Believe me, in the darkest times of my youth, it was the light I clung to. It was the hope that, at the end of the line, you would be there—waiting for me, arms wide open, welcoming me into the light with your embrace.I felt your absence more deeply than I have ever felt anything before.
Short Story – His Eyes Were a Poem
Frozen in place, I stood there as if time itself had stopped, while the poem was fixated on me. Never in my life had I felt such insignificance in my own existence.
While my desires and admirations were fighting over what was left of me, his face was expressionless. The eyes that harbored the warmest of my feelings were cold, like those of a killer.
Short Story- Demigods are Worshipped in Wine
This night was like many others. She was preparing her space to write poetry. It was as if she was preparing to worship a God of a sort – with a bottle of Shiraz on the table and Chopin on the recorder, she set orange and cinnamon-scented candles up in her room.
Short Story – Pianoforte
With her fingers lightly gripping the quill, the black ink smeared on her fingers and across the paper, if I may paint her clumsiness and lack of etiquette, she tried to write him another letter. But what was there for her to write about? After all, they had never met. She had seen him once from the crowd as she watched his fingers dance across the keys of a pianoforte while clutching her mother’s hand to calm her nerves.
Six-Sentence Story With Audiobook – Dead Poet
The smell of cinnamon in the room, a burnt candle on the bedside table, an empty bottle of Shiraz on the floor beside the ivory bed, and finally… a lady clutching onto a tattered book while tangled in her silken sheets with a tear running down her cheek.
Six-Sentence Story With Audiobook – the Exchange
She could feel that something was wrong with the way the wind made her skin crawl as she teetered out from the bar onto the small alleyway leading to her home and she felt almost as if there, in the dark, were a pair of eyes watching her every move.
Short Story – Master of Escapism
I used to believe in something, like stars being the souls of the lost—my father being one of them. I also used to read fairy tales over and over again. I believed that I would spend an eternity loving the same boy I fell for when I was nothing but a child. I had my whole life written in fantasy and laid out in front of me. On some days, I fought dragons; on other days, I cradled the scorching sun in my arms and called it a lover.
Six-Sentence Story With Audiobook – Ember
At night, when Ember lies down in her bed and listens to the rain softly running down her skylights she travels the worlds unknown to men.
Tonight was no exception; she was running in a maze to find her prince, a man she hardly knew but a face he had.
Short Story – Lady In-Between
How many times in my life have I felt completely overwhelmed by the tide of emotions and the ensuing silence of a depression that could incapacitate even the strongest of men? Some say it is the natural flow of life. “There is beauty in the ups and downs” —but I feel as if I am in the sea, desperately keeping myself afloat.
Only to be engulfed by the tide behind.
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