You choose your story. You write it how you want it go and as you go along, you learn how it plays out. Those who choose to read it, are the ones you let in. The ones who don’t, don’t deserve to read it anyway.
Author: maeve
Update
I haven’t posted much. It’s been a tough few weeks, hell, several months. Anyway, writing always helps. I updated the latest fic. Take a look. Sick as Secrets-Marvel FanFic
Don’t underestimate me, you push, I push back, harder, stronger, faster I won’t back down and I won’t cower in a corner like everyone else I won’t believe your lies, your smile covering up the evil behind it I’m worth more than you are and I won’t cry the day you are judged and brought…
the direction of choices
I’ve been asked a thousand times… “Do you want to die?”. Doctors, therapists, counselors, medical techs and a whole host of random medical professionals. My answer to them. “No.” But it’s not the truth. Well, sort of. I do want to die….but, I don’t. I don’t want to actually die by my own hand. I…
The Woes of Writing
Writing anything is hard enough, but trying to put thoughts into a story the way I see them in my head is difficult. I typically start with a story and then build the beginning off of that, but then I tend to start new stories because the ideas I have won’t fit into the current…
jungle of madness
carry me with you, through the jungle of madness don’t let me sink into the sand i know you are damaged, your limbs are broken and your back is weak your mind is all you need to make it through, but my heart is rotting flesh the insects are devouring my spirit, my mind is…
dead lands
When you said that cryptic message, that nothingness, it got into my head. It drilled it’s little hole into my head like a beetle eating through wood, trying to survive. Those words infected my heart and made me doubt myself, made me hate myself, made me second guess who I am and what I stand…
where do you feel alive?
I really do feel most alive at the ocean. The sun is amazingly healing and I feel alive when I am bronzed and my hair is matted with sea salt. Someday I’ll get back.
how true honesty can help keep you sober
I wonder sometimes why I have nothing to say. Do I have writers block? Do I just not care? Do I just not feel anything I have to say is important? Am I not funny enough? Not witty enough? None of this matters. I write because I enjoy it and if someone likes it, then…