just found out you can't get ms paint anymore and I am HEARTBROKEN

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PICASSO WITHOUT MS PAINT? IT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME EXPERIENCE!

TSP 5

She was lucky enough to have met a few people on campus already. Maria, Chloe her friend from Creative Writing, and Chloe’s roommate Kelsey from Band. 

Her mother asked if she thought she’d see him. Knowing her mother it would be easiest to believe that it was never intended as a loaded question. But in that moment, it felt like a narrowly dodged bullet, a whizz she could still hear as it spun, cutting the air, right past her left ear.

Her response was quick, come from a place of deeply ingrained instinct. ‘No, I hope not,’ before she had given herself time to remember that there was no secret left. At least, not to these people.

:::

it's 11:56 and I just washed my hair and can't justify going to bed. send help

I've got my first uni masterclass tomorrow and I'm terrified




imposter syndrome coming on strong

TSP 4

A bit of a breakthrough had come the February before, seemingly out of the blue. She reasoned with herself in the backseat on the truck ride home. I can open myself up to romance after I fix my fucked up brain. It wouldn’t be fair to my partner to have to deal with all of that. When I’m cured, I’ll be ready. 

But that’s not really how it worked. By that logic, she should have already pushed her family away, and what remained of her friends, to make things easier on them. She hadn’t yet, for better or worse, she wasn’t sure. And she would never really fix herself.

So by those means, her logic against romance was very, very flawed.

:::

TSP 3

People were always difficult for her. And so, with her track record in mind, it’s quite easy to see why she never went up to him, introduced herself, and asked for his name. 

Looking back, she’s not entirely sure what piqued her interest in the first place. But she ended up paying attention to him, his soccer sweater, and the fact that the soccer field was right by her parking stall. She looked, but never saw him.

He played trumpet. First period music. He was supposed to be playing guitar, but broke his hand. 

She paid attention, for reasons she never stopped to consider the gravity of. And so it didn’t take long for her to lodge him in her brain, and to give him what was supposed to be a temporary, funny, name. Trumpet Soccer Player.

It stuck.

:::

  part three. still writing. whoops.

yes I know the name is dumb. I know his name now. I'm not going to post it.

bye.

TSP 2

It was simple, really, Simple and foolproof, if she did say so herself. Which she did, many times, to herself. No crushes, no dating, no marriage. Even at seven, she was no fool. Romance required at least some heartbreak, and while she liked to pretend otherwise, she knew she was delicate. Better just to stay away from the idea entirely than risk a little bit of hurt.

As if it didn’t hurt. Coping mechanisms have a tendency to be self-destructive, easy to acquire, and tough to beat. Trying to beat the desire to be desired out of your system took many blows from a heavy sledge. In her case, that sledge was the repeated reasons of why she deemed herself undesirable. 

It hurt, having to repeat every so often, lying awake at night staring at the ceiling, ignoring pangs in her chest. But it worked. It was supposed to.

And then she got sloppy, that was the only reason she could think of. She slipped up, and now she was about to pay dearly. 

:::

continuation of my story I'm writing. about myself. 

good lord guys I'm tired. I didn't mean to leave a three part assignment until the night before. but.




uggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh I don't even wanna take a shower.
fuck.

TSP 1

It was never supposed to happen. It was never the kind of thing that could happen. At least, to her. She didn’t get to get this. 

And yet. Sitting there in the hatch of her car on a hot, hot day, she felt her heart beating heavy and fought to focus on putting words on the screen. 

I don’t want to admit that I know what this is but I think I might. She wanted to blame the beat in her chest on the fact that she refused to open any windows in her dark car, but didn’t have it in her anymore to lie.

Oh my God, she thought to herself in hot and heavy silence. How did I let it get this far. A knock from outside called her crawling into the cooler heat and hoping the church lights were off, desperately trying to put her unnerving discovery behind her.

:::

So......

I'm writing something. Trying to navigate, I guess. I wanna post it so I'mma post it here where there's the option for other people to see it but in truth no one will.

Tumblr: ffirecracker

JUST remembered that I made this circa tenth grade and wow. Wild.