“how Did You Get Into Writing” Girl Nobody Gets Into Writing. Writing Shows Up One Day At Your Door

"Will you just tell me what your fucking problem is? You're acting crazy, you know that, but you think you can still pretend everything is fine? Spit it out!"

"I'm— I'm being haunted."

I've said the forbidden thing. And I'm waiting for the ceiling to fall on top of us or for the ground to swallow me whole, but all i see and feel is the horror on their faces. Why isn't Celia, the Celia whom I murdered not doing a single thing? It is only when i lift my head to see their horrified faces once again that I understand.

I understand to such a degree that I break into maniacal laughter as the world spins around me. Both me and the woman haunting me— we share a common goal now.

I want to We want to torture the people who made me murder her. "Maybe Celia's not haunting me. Maybe I'm posessed by her. For I've never understood a person this much before!"

"You watch your mouth, new prince. Before I—"

"Before you strip me off the 'chosen hero' title? Well to hell with your fucking special play, your uniqueness. Curse you and that royal blood— After all, what kind of chosen hero, What kind of God' s favourite hold's a knife to a young woman's innocent throat? All in the name of 'erasing cursed heritage?' In the name of the cause, you ruined me! You all have forgotten yourselves! Even declared yourself king, at the expense of making me a murderer. At the expense of the love of my life— no, the life of my love!" Celia uses her powers now. No, her presence is stronger. She uses it to shut me up, ofcourse. Frightening, how love is enough to shake the souls of the dead, aswell.

After all, I only confessed my love for her once she was incapable of loving me back.

"Lock him up. Cut him until he swears by the blood."

I pray she will use her powers to intervene, and save me from the torture. I hear no objection as I'm dragged away. What a creative manner to reject me, my celia. I will admire you from hell

"Will you just tell me what your fucking problem is? You're acting crazy, you know that, but you think you can still pretend everything is fine? Spit it out!"

"I'm— I'm being haunted."

Despite it all I will live. Life wants to fuck me over? I will live fucking despite it. Pushes me around beyond my breaking point and further? I will live despite it.

Even though something is clawing at my insides, even though I realize how intolerable my pain is when I sit down and let everything sink in, even though the cookies I tried to bake tasted like frozen butter, even though dad hurt me again and mom didn't quite understand again,

I'm going to go on despite.

Why?

Because one thing bigger than my self-pity is my ego. And I am playing the most egotistical game with life.

And I will win. (Also my cat is rlly cute she makes me want to live)

If you are so keen on hating me,

Please hate me only in the mornings.

For I know you dream of me every night,

And I would rather slit my throat every single day

than to be a nightmare to you.

I hope writers realize that were not here to

Impress anyone

Make people like us

We're not even here to write well

We're here to finish the book

And not be historically accurate or use the correct word for it

I hope we writers know you can overexplain something and then remember the short word that summarises the 3 pages once u publish the book

This is for all teenage, rupi kaur 'cringey' writers as well. (I dont like u but u deserve a place on this earth aswell)

My dear, I will read your book.

Best believe I will not criticise the flow of words for I know they are born out of the heart. I will read despite the timeskips and flawed main couples, I will memorize your difficult pages despite their jaggedy flow.

But my dear, first you must bring me the book.

Write, my darling. The hypothetical reader in your mind is as inaccurate as one can be— for the reader that I am, all I need is words.

But you must write first, my darling. Do it for me

I'm your reader

You fill me with so much being that I no longer feel woman nor man around you, the presence realization of you puts me in a trance-like state, away from the concept of reality, logic and nature— rather I am forever a cloud hanging around you, only ever activated when ever I am, once again, struck by the realization of you.

me completely by myself in my room: alright everybody just calm down

The pain is like a sedative/ that kills me; makes me cry—and puts me to sleep/

-excerpt from my book💋💕

If this pain chooses not to leave me

I hope I end my life

I hope I don't force myself to live through it all with the false hope that I will find peace and love and dreams coming true

I hope I can give myself the privilege of death and not force myself to live for others

Oh my goddd im in my teenage depression phase 😦

How many of you would read a romance wattpad Novel of an indian princess and her Pakistani Knight running away together??lmk