sunnyanddumb98

[sunnyanddumb98]

At 19 I had everything. With the time every part of my world hurt me enough for me to leave it behind.

I create mecanisms, formulas and methods to stay I change to fit into the life that I build over fears.

But nevertheless I walked away. I try to replace it recreate that live with new faces just now I wasn't going to let them hurt me.

Cowards, lack of potencial hurt unavailable peaplo if they weren't I hadn't to be true or kind or joyfull I could stay that way damage resistent to change.

I couldn't sustain it because every story every joke every new moment was a ghost of what I lost. So everytime I repeated it lose it a litle bit more until they became memories of a story that I once heard.

So change came. Not in content but in ways.

When I turn mechanisms for tools

Formules for resources

Méthodologies for skills

The contents

[sunnyanddumb98]

After a while you get tired of telling people how they make/made you feel. you eventually just go ghost and never speak again.

[sunnyanddumb98]

very often the traits we assume to be someone’s natural strengths are actually the things they naturally lacked most glaringly or were deprived of the opportunity to develop, but intentionally worked to build later on

especially things like self-restraint, confidence, articulateness, the ability to admit wrong, and other interpersonal strengths and skills

[sunnyanddumb98]

Some people don't see how much you do for them. they only see what you don't do. you'll never satisfy an ungrateful person.

[sunnyanddumb98]

Types Of Writer’s Block (And How To Fix Them)

1. High inspiration, low motivation. You have so many ideas to write, but you just don’t have the motivation to actually get them down, and even if you can make yourself start writing it you’ll often find yourself getting distracted or disengaged in favour of imagining everything playing out

Try just bullet pointing the ideas you have instead of writing them properly, especially if you won’t remember it afterwards if you don’t. At least you’ll have the ideas ready to use when you have the motivation later on

2. Low inspiration, high motivation. You’re all prepared, you’re so pumped to write, you open your document aaaaand… three hours later, that cursor is still blinking at the top of a blank page

RIP pantsers but this is where plotting wins out; refer back to your plans and figure out where to go from here. You can also use your bullet points from the last point if this is applicable

3. No inspiration, no motivation. You don’t have any ideas, you don’t feel like writing, all in all everything is just sucky when you think about it

Make a deal with yourself; usually when I’m feeling this way I can tell myself “Okay, just write anyway for ten minutes and after that, if you really want to stop, you can stop” and then once my ten minutes is up I’ve often found my flow. Just remember that, if you still don’t want to keep writing after your ten minutes is up, don’t keep writing anyway and break your deal - it’ll be harder to make deals with yourself in future if your brain knows you don’t honour them

4. Can’t bridge the gap. When you’re stuck on this one sentence/paragraph that you just don’t know how to progress through. Until you figure it out, productivity has slowed to a halt

Mark it up, bullet point what you want to happen here, then move on. A lot of people don’t know how to keep writing after skipping a part because they don’t know exactly what happened to lead up to this moment - but you have a general idea just like you do for everything else you’re writing, and that’s enough. Just keep it generic and know you can go back to edit later, at the same time as when you’re filling in the blank. It’ll give editing you a clear purpose, if nothing else

5. Perfectionism and self-doubt. You don’t think your writing is perfect first time, so you struggle to accept that it’s anything better than a total failure. Whether or not you’re aware of the fact that this is an unrealistic standard makes no difference

Perfection is stagnant. If you write the perfect story, which would require you to turn a good story into something objective rather than subjective, then after that you’d never write again, because nothing will ever meet that standard again. That or you would only ever write the same kind of stories over and over, never growing or developing as a writer. If you’re looking back on your writing and saying “This is so bad, I hate it”, that’s generally a good thing; it means you’ve grown and improved. Maybe your current writing isn’t bad, if just matched your skill level at the time, and since then you’re able to maintain a higher standard since you’ve learned more about your craft as time went on

[sunnyanddumb98]

instead of killing myself i will watch documentary about the ocean

[sunnyanddumb98]

Not writing as much as I could

[sunnyanddumb98]

But who will love me

A self-centred flirt

Who only likes you

When you are ignoring me

[sunnyanddumb98]

writing a lot but not writing enough

[sunnyanddumb98]

[sunnyanddumb98]

fishing for sympathy.

[sunnyanddumb98]

I never understood privacy; there was no thought in my mind; I didn't want to say it out loud. Because I learned from a young age they can all be welcome, for every feeling I have. There will be someone who will feel similar only if I know how to express it, someone will be less alone even if there are just two of us So I will sing, write, and paint. Like a plea, one too many times until I can hear the " that thought, buddy, that hard."

[sunnyanddumb98]

I lied because I had hoped ever since our goodbye that my absence would tear apart your life and your heart. your absence chanced mine in a way I could not have predicted. I don't appreciate you for who you are; there's is no way to know who you are now; I appreciate who you used to be. If you were to come back, I know you'd be rotten in a way I can not change. Because her absence will change you. The way you changed mine. All this time, I hope for this moment, everything of you is completely irrelevant. My path was only traced by myself. It is lonely, but no more so than the loneliness your presence makes me feel. I can not admire someone I do not know So I search for people I can know every step of the way I search to be known for all my might.

[sunnyanddumb98]

avoiding writing

avoiding talking with friends who want things from me

avoiding studying because I don't feel anything gets in my mind

a victory that's all I ask

[sunnyanddumb98]

[sunnyanddumb98]

When you hold me, I feel whole,

That sounds silly, I know so.

I won't shatter, I won't fall,

Airoline faith in duct tape.

A lot and easily proven false,

You won't hold me no more,

Duct tape removed in one single blow,

Left me intact, aching but fine.

As the plane landed, I had no hand

To let go, if you ever hold me

I know I will be a ghost,

Did Frankenstein stitches hurt.

How many flights up high can I ride?

Until the glue goes off,

Until the resistance of the wind

Tear me for good, so I can float.

We did not free fall,

Slow and steady, how will I know

Bubbles can exist on a very long road

But we cant duct tape a soap sphere.

Eternal friends with an ephemeral speech,

I drew the line that you never mind

Now the only one looking at the gap go wide

The good friend who knew when to step back.

The thank you note I will never have

The apologizes on the betrayal I made up

Will you reach me when she breaks your heart

How to scape all the memories you choose to.

Share with another one,

Thousand what ifs in mi mind

Of what would you have to do

To come back.

Because the reality is

I want to forgive you

I want you back

I want to sleep by your side.

And wake you up from nightmares

But I don't want to be the want to reach out

I don't want to beg

Because I already have.

How to forget the love

Of someone who I made up.

[sunnyanddumb98]

Bodies left behind whose I never killed

high rise skinny mom jeans, baggy cargo low rise boyfriend jeans

Bay leaf rafting in a paper boat, distant from a toy

Buried dandelion grounds, homemade family films

Shelves filled with me talking over, talking again

Narration and pointing, a van in the snow

Annoying song, I was asked to sit still

So I took a pen, drew eyes wide open

Besides dogs and broken mirrors, I burned a picture

Out of a tantrum, I painted a flower

Blossoming in chaos, when life took up

And I could not draw what was in front of me

My eyes kept moving at dawn

The strings that bleed my fingers

Let me fall asleep,

pictures were not enough

I play a song, no tune or rhythm

A skill issue resolved. A self worth issue forgot

mental ukulele

chords in repeat in my head.

Street in fire, carotida boiling, water learning

Chaos singing, friends dying, I can't bring myself to shut up

the same guy over again, a bad idea rigth

the same scapatory day dream fantasy

the same personal statement letter

one too many times, triping over air

not al battles won, but i won in everyone

Songs are not enough. Tales will do

whatever it takes, poems, a scream, or a whisper

A need a compulsion to ask

This happened to me, it looked like this

Felt nice and not so much, have you ever?

Can you get me? Are you proud?

If it was as hard for you, you must know

How much bravery and strength it took

Will you be my friend and acknowledge how

Awesome we have become