"In a land far away slept a woman bedridden with anxiety and what she could not fathom to be mere sadness. Pulling her head away from the pillow seemed as though she was pulling the northern pole away from the southern pole, it just kept resisting. Eventually she would tire and give into this attraction.
For, when her head rested on the small soft cotton, she was as close she could ever be to escaping her hell. Her pillow was her cloud and her head was her La La Land."
A small excerpt of my current writing style and simultaneously a piece of me in text.
Unfortunately, I have yet to channel any confidence into my writing style and ideas, and so I have a shit ton of drafts accumulated within my Pages App never to see daylight. Nevertheless, hopefully one day I'll have enough courage and self-reliance to publish one of my works for the world to read and judge.
Some unrelated facts about me:
📌a movie fanatic, but between my undiagnosed depression and the stress of schoolwork, I have lost the interest
📌a follower of the religion of art in all its shapes and forms
📌i love to read angst-filled romance books, but I am a better writer when no love is involved. When my thumbs work, a world of gangsters and mobs spills into my writings. Also, tragedy is base.
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