Photos and videos from instagram posts tagged with #writingcommunity

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First, Book, Opera
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After my #first #book , and first #opera , I've been asked to do my first #solo #spokenword #performance / #standup routine as the #headline #act of a #popular #literary #event at a #landmark #pub in this city. I am #scared and #delighted in equal measure, but I have said #yes , and hope to #see some of your #friendly faces there! #nottingham #unescocityofliterature #writingcommunity #writerslife #writersofinstagram #thursday #thursdaymotivation #firsts
Writingprompts, Writingcommunity
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“What if the world comes to end end? He asked. “Then we build it again.” #writingprompts #writingcommunity
Poetsofig, Poetry, Writersofinstagram
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I wish you could discern what you mean to me, how I dream of you in colors this world's never seen, but if only you could feel, what my demons did to me, ever since you gazed into my eyes, and told me I'll never be the one you want, that you need me to set you free, for all the times you felt uncared for, and the mistakes you let walk beside you, for the times my arms couldn't hold you, when you shattered right before my eyes, but, forgive me, love, I did everything I thought was right, loved you the way I knew how to, I wish I knew what a fool I was, to think I'd be fine without you, cause it's almost been a year now, and not a single night goes by, without my tears trickling on the bathroom floor, wishing I could turn back time, and just knew back then, how It'd feel to live without your smile by my side, to love you more everyday that goes by, and watch my image evanesce from your eyes, cause it hurts like a fuckin' bullet in my chest, for when memories of us suffuse my head, and this bullet creeps into my soul, hacking it apart with the same questions over and over again, "why? why couldn't you see it all before?" "if you loved her, why did you let her go?" and maybe I'll never forgive myself for being so naive, and maybe that bullet lingers in there, for as long as you don't look into my eyes, and tell me you love me still, but, I guess, it's too late now, cause I recall the way you used to look at me, and even if you'll never hold my hand again, you'll always be the one I'll tell the stars about, that maybe someday for just a moment, you'll espy the love in my eyes, and let me hold you in my arms once again, taking you to world where it's just you and me, cause I don't know how long I can live this world where we don't share the same breath. -Karan . . . . . . . . #poetsofig #poetry #writersofinstagram #writersofig #poet #writersoninstagram #poetsoninstagram #poetrysociety #poemsofinstagram #writinglife #poems #writing #poetry #writing #poems #poemsofinstagram #followers #poemsporn #wordporn #wordplay #wordsaboutlove #poetrycommunity #writinglife #writersofig #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig #poetrylife #writingcommunity #words
Books, Horrorcommunity, Writingcommunity
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REVIEW by Alina Giuchici, TBM's official reviewer. Reading 'Waverly Hills Incursion' by Bryce Warren @brycewarren13 @Bryce_Warren 'The story is very captivating and it is the type of book that will not allow you to put it away until you don’t reach the end of it.' @alinaradusport on Twitter @reading_zombie99 on Instagram Read the complete article, link in bio! >> https://www.theboldmom.com/book-review-by-alina-ionescu-waverly-hills-incursion-by-bryce-warren/ via @theboldmom #books #horrorcommunity #writingcommunity #goth #darkness #authors #bookworm #amazing
What would I know about heartbreaks? I'm merely a deluded teenager who had once loved someone with all her heart. I can hear you, you know, thinking in your obnoxious voice "You are still a kid who has just seen a speckle of this whole world, what do you know about love?" I know enough to say that no matter how many hours you sweet talk, at the end of the day you are left with a longing to hold someone close and to be held even tighter till the puzzled souls solve the jigsaw themselves.

To be adored like an artist adores his muse, to be seen like a child watches the moon, to be appreciated like a blast of cool air in the sweaty summers. There is so much love you could get via a box from someone at the other end who's sitting just like you in their pajamas with one leg propped up on the bedside table, a goofy smile on their lips every time you light up their screen with your own honey dipped words.

You fall for the words, not the person. Every time you think it's different, it's not. It starts with a silly banter and ends with a toxic fuck you. The idea of a "great love" buds in your mind, like it's going to endure the distances, the fizzling interests and attractions, the horrible misunderstandings, an impossible forever. Did you even realise you are in too deep?

After:
a broken heart, a slit up my wrist, a last I love you followed by a dozen fuck you's, a breakdown every couple of days, a suicide attempt 3 steps forward and 2 steps back, a poem or musing every day about how I feel like dying, a couple of social media breaks, a few jokes on my follies, a bunch of stable mental health months and a catalogue of guys later:

I have realised that it's never ending and all consuming; love/attraction will come to you at different ages and different seasons. You have to convince yourself to not be a weakling and to not give up on yourself.

No one deserves a damaged toxic junk. Sometimes you are served one, sometimes you are one.
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What would I know about heartbreaks? I'm merely a deluded teenager who had once loved someone with all her heart. I can hear you, you know, thinking in your obnoxious voice "You are still a kid who has just seen a speckle of this whole world, what do you know about love?" I know enough to say that no matter how many hours you sweet talk, at the end of the day you are left with a longing to hold someone close and to be held even tighter till the puzzled souls solve the jigsaw themselves. To be adored like an artist adores his muse, to be seen like a child watches the moon, to be appreciated like a blast of cool air in the sweaty summers. There is so much love you could get via a box from someone at the other end who's sitting just like you in their pajamas with one leg propped up on the bedside table, a goofy smile on their lips every time you light up their screen with your own honey dipped words. You fall for the words, not the person. Every time you think it's different, it's not. It starts with a silly banter and ends with a toxic fuck you. The idea of a "great love" buds in your mind, like it's going to endure the distances, the fizzling interests and attractions, the horrible misunderstandings, an impossible forever. Did you even realise you are in too deep? After: a broken heart, a slit up my wrist, a last I love you followed by a dozen fuck you's, a breakdown every couple of days, a suicide attempt 3 steps forward and 2 steps back, a poem or musing every day about how I feel like dying, a couple of social media breaks, a few jokes on my follies, a bunch of stable mental health months and a catalogue of guys later: I have realised that it's never ending and all consuming; love/attraction will come to you at different ages and different seasons. You have to convince yourself to not be a weakling and to not give up on yourself. No one deserves a damaged toxic junk. Sometimes you are served one, sometimes you are one.
Wattpad, BADGIRLDONTCRY, Writing
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Zoe and Martin! We STAN them! It’s not a common story. Let’s mix everything that the society put in our head. Zoe Pratt is not who you think. Link in bio for our cast ❤️ #wattpad #BADGIRLDONTCRY #writing #writer #writingprompts #writers #writersofinstagram #writingcommunity #writerscommunity #writersnetwork #writerslife #writergram #writerssociety #writinglife #writersoninstagram
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