Haruki Murakami (via writingbox)
It’s hilarious on here because I tend to gain a load of followers when I’m inactive for a couple of days so when I begin to blog, I lose a few because I wasn’t up the newbies’ expectations lol
Recently I’ve taken a break from writing not only to study, but try and refine my writing skill. My absence is due to the homework I’ve been doing on how to improve as a writer, but more at novels than poetry. Here are some good blogs I’ve been feeding information from:
There are obviously tonnes more writing help blogs out there and if you see other blogs they reblog from, you’ll have a handful in no time.
I tend to reblog these tips and references on my personal diary blog, and I make sure to actually read what I’m reblogging, because I know I could end up reblogging great tips and never reading them. If it helps, you can favourite the best refs if you’ll need them specifically for certain projects. That’s what I’m beginning to do with my novel!
Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else, but just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes.
The Winter of the Air (via fuckinq)
I’m learning to wear my loneliness I wear my loneliness I’ve tried taking it off, once or twice. Loneliness is a pure gift Loneliness is a pure gift.
It can be a tight fit at times,
Making it harder to breathe at night
When my presence comes crashing down
On my chest
And the world suddenly seems too big
To keep me company.
On tea breaks,
Or when gazing
Through my bedroom window,
Wishing I could smoke a few
Or drink a little
So I’m not just left with myself
And the thoughts I bring.
I’ve tried ripping apart the fabric
And letting people in
And letting love replace it
But I guess loneliness is like
That one blue velvet dress
That I can’t throw away.
Causes my brain to go haywire
And I’m scared
They’ll hate me,
They find me annoying,
They’ll forget about me.
It’s a gift I never requested.
I’m learning to wear my loneliness
I wear my loneliness
I’ve tried taking it off, once or twice.
Loneliness is a pure gift
Loneliness is a pure gift.
Loneliness // W.J (via cascadingletters)
I stopped going to therapy because I knew my therapist was right and I wanted to keep being wrong. I wanted to keep my bad habits like charms on a bracelet. I did not want to be brave. I think I like my brain best in a bar fight with my heart. I think I like myself a little broken. I’m ok if that makes me less loved. I like poetry better than therapy anyway. The poems never judge me for healing wrong.
So therefore I dedicate myself to myself, to my art, my sleep, my dreams, my labors, my suffrances, my loneliness, my unique madness, my endless absorption and hunger - because I cannot dedicate myself to any fellow being.
Jack Kerouac (via hemingwayslemonade)
Unknown (via fuckinq)
I read this at midnight with a tired drowsy head but it really did put a huge grin on my face. I’m so touched, thank you. xx