Rec | CREATIVE WRITING /FICTION/ POEMS/ SHORT STORIES

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Rec'd on 😃 What was your favorite activity growing up?

creative writing /fiction/ poems/ short stories

i was a voracious reader and a bit of a loner so this was a logical progression. it was a form of escapism for me and i loved inventing new worlds. i unfortunately began to hide my writings when my mom stumbled upon one i wrote from the perspective of a medieval peasant living in the midst of a plague and it scared her into thinking i was deeply troubled for a while. she still brings it up to this day. but i kept it up for years. i still have bits stories that i started in even in college that will likely never see the light of day but i look back at all of it fondly and still love to write today even if nothing came of it :)

@deardoveswings

Oct 17, 2024

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@thisisthea

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this random poem from 2 years ago i don't remember writing

i don't write often but the second half surprised me, i like it a lot. maybe i'll keep working on it i’m not interested in a career never have been i don’t want to devote my time i wanna have it things spin around me they evolve and they live so much going on at the edges but i’m stuck on the axis i cry and whine about it but what am i actually doing surely i just have to.. start if only i could lift my limbs why is it so goddamn hard i just need another excuse why can’t my brain process failure i just need to be good and i’ll do it yeah i’m a creative person i have a guitar and some watercolors and 5 unfinished sketchbooks tucked away in a closet maybe i just have to branch out don’t have to be in it, i can be around it don’t ask me to talk to new people though don’t ask me to follow up tick tock time’s a ticking you already lost 3 years, why are you waiting it’s already too late, sit tight maybe in another life

@milkbags

May 14, 2024

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Hello?

Not that anyone will care, but to understand me you have to understand this: I was raised by Christian Protestant fundamentalists, the youngest of 4 by 10 years. Although I resent the church and the theology I desperately tried to make myself believe, I am grateful for their teachings of serving and loving others, even if they contradicted themselves when they told me to fear the evil nature of humanity. I was named after my grandma, who lived with me for 11 years of my childhood and remained ever trusting and kind as she fell victim to dementia. By the time I was 8 my parents seemed to have tired from raising 4 kids and intensively caring for a 90 year old woman, and I was free to bike miles across town to the library unsupervised, and patch myself up when I fell and bled, and lock myself in my room to read every spare hour of the day. I would read while I ate breakfast, I would read while brushing my teeth, I would read and I wouldn’t hear it if someone called my name. I discovered the internet soon after and unfortunately the curiosities it offered won out over literature. When the internet taught me I wouldn’t live forever in heaven under the tree of life with Teddy Roosevelt and my grandpa, I was on my own to process and panic and pretend to pray. My family came from Norway, across Canada, down to Northern Idaho to work in the lumber yards, and finally to Oregon when starvation wages hit the shop teachers. My mom grew up on elk tongue sandwiches and I was never allowed to leave a plate full. I always struggled with friendships, not because people didn’t like me but because I have a tendency for isolating myself. The people I love most tend to be strange and upfront and vulnerable. And I do love my family, but more than anything I want to be independent and meet many strange and upfront people who will lead me to adventure. I am almost 20 and I am an artist. I have no tattoos and I am reckoning with my potential.