a raw collection of words from my heart

17.4.15

the start of something new

it's fiction time (vi.)

his eyes were cold. cold, flashing, and dangerous.

but she found something akin to pain in them, the first sign of human-ness she had seen in him. strangely, that gave her hope. hope for what? you may ask. she didn't know either. all she knew was his eyes were very terrible, and very beautiful.

so, in such a manner, they continued along the road, with her sneaking looks at his unchanging face, and him stonily glaring ahead. silence never bothered her, so she was quite comfortable with the arrangement. from time to time, she would talk, he wouldn't respond, and she would continue the one-sided conversation. once, when she was discussing with, well, herself on something particularly silly, just to pass time, she thought she caught an amused flicker of eyes towards her direction.

she didn't know why, but she felt immensely happy.


all images from tumblr


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i'm slowly beating writer's block guys!
thanks tons for the suggestions y'all gave in the previous post;
they were so very helpful 

also, i just have to add that this fiction was inspired by:
the lovely Adelaide Thompson over at Down by the Willows.
her writing is stunning. go on, check her out right now!

P.S.: if you have instagram, go on and follow me @elisab.ethf because i've been on there more recently!

xxx

9.4.15

/bitterness/



it all starts in the little things. the things that no one sees or cares about. but you do. you remember them. and you keep them in the little sealed drawer at the back of your heart, and you leave it, thinking it won't matter. but then it gets bigger, and the little drawer starts to grow. little things suddenly become big, and you wonder why nobody but you notices, why nobody listens or wants to listen to you.

and then your anger builds. slowly at first, but then faster and faster and faster. it spins out of control, and you feel mistreated in every circumstance. you ponder and mull on it at night. your hands rip pieces of paper into shreds. you glare and punch the bedpost, until you just wind up crying on the floor. and everything seems to lose its meaning. even the bluest sky seems sad. colours don't hold as much meaning as before. love is meaningless. pain is fresh and sharp.

the scary thing is, you don't know you're hurtling towards bitterness, like a ship being hurtled by the waves into the jagged rocks. it spins out of control, leaving you breathless, with a stubborn, bitter heart.

and no one can heal it but Jesus.
just a reminder for myself to let go, and let God.



found this in my old posts; reposting it because i'm needing this reminder.

and also because i'm suffering from an acute writer's block right now.
it's like the worst thing ever to want to write something but being unable to write anything. 
ugh, anyone have any tips for overcoming writer's block?
maybe more chocolate? (ha)