Hello hello! Welcome to my writing page!
Since I was little, I've always had a small love for writing.
Whenever I had time, I would write stories in my chomebook. It
wasn't until I was 10-12 years old when I lost interest in it due
to mental health issues. I picked it back up just recently and
have been writing bits and pieces ever since.
I tend to write nonfiction, x reader fan-fiction, and short stories of my original characters.
Some of my writing that I will post here is also classwork for my creative writing class. However, to avoid getting in trouble for plagiarizing myself, I won't be posting those pieces here until they are fully graded.
Every piece of writing will have content warnings when applicable. I may post more mature pieces in the future, so I wouldn't recommend anyone under 18 to read them.
I may also have small sections where I go into detail about any symbolism that occurs within the piece or the overall backstory/inspiration behind it.
Happy Reading!
What even is a poem
if not just a short story
broken up into smaller pieces
like a piece of meat
at the butcher
Chop
Chop
There,
now it sounds cool
i sometimes wish i was bullied when i was younger
so that i
could have a good excuse to hate them
instead, they were nice to me
i talked to them and they
responded
they never invited me anywhere
they never gave me their phone
numbers
they never let me into their inside jokes
but they were still my friends
even as they said some racist
things
even as they hung out with their other friends
and
made plans what didn't include me in front of me
after all, friends are just people who talk to you once a day
right?
Every time I read a poem,
I get awestruck
by how they
write it
Every word
is
special
Every stanza
is a window
to the author's soul
How do they do it?
How can I do that?
I have nothing special
to write about
I'm not even
a
good writer
I can give you
half-assed symbolism
I can give you
a simile
But I can't give you meaning
I can only give you words on a
page
Sir,
Per what we discussed in our previous letters,
You should find the true message in this letter.
It's been nothing but rain over at the base.
None of us are
dead, but morale is low.
Randy says that we should be
switching to new tech soon,
As it has been getting easier for the enemy to anticipate our next
move.
No worries; we will win this!
Kingston, signing off.
Say hello to Finn for me.
In this universe,
I am your older sibling
the one who raised you and
taught you two the world
whenever I call
you two tell me you miss me
In another universe,
I am a planet
while you two are moons
that orbit around me
forever until the end of time
En otro universo,
en donde mama y papa
nunca se fueron a los Estados Unidos,
estamos caminando a casa
por los calles de Guanajuato
bolsa llena de pan dulce
piel quemados en el calor
We were both 5
on the wooden playground
We're playing vampires
and you chase me around
I still can't remember
if it was all real or not
I don't like you anymore
even if you're still cute
Seven years old
and you came to the school
Dark hair and beauty marks on your face
My best friend had a crush on you
Everyone had a crush on you
You moved a year later
I still remember your full name
I wrote it so many times that it just stuck
I was 9 when you
hugged me randomly in class
That was the first time someone
ever did that to me
Maybe you liked me
You were here for only a year
I don't like redheads now
and it's probably because of you
I was 12 and depressed
You were so nice to me
Turns out that it was just
basic human decency
and that I wasn't used to someone talking to me
and knowing that I exist
You were ugly and gay and transphobic anyway,
so it wouldn't have worked out
I was 16, and you were the only person
that I would ever call a friend
in this hell of a school
Or maybe I only called you a friend
because you were the first girl I liked
You left one day without saying anything to me
I should've gone with you to homecoming
even if you would ditch me for your other friends
My favorite part to eat
is the eye
It’s soft,
chewy
and perfect in a dish
Eye soup was the first
traditional family recipe I ate
when my father deemed me old enough
Although it hurt
to pull it out of my socket
and I
couldn’t really
see much for the rest of the night
