The moment I knew what pain felt was a moment of shattered hopes! The true journey of anyone who faced loss of innocence as such a young age

Children with progeria age. They also have other health problems. Signs would be a beaked shaped nose, thin lips and hair loss subscribe to read more

I'm not sure how to describe this poem of mine, so I'll just say that it took of lot of emotional energy to write this in one go.

Maybe they were right? Could it be the phone? Stop and look around, and you might just see how fast life can go. What did you miss?

This story is about sexism in schools, it's just a short paragraph but it has a bigger meaning. It feels like the world can't and won't change unless we actually do something about it.

Ordinary love is easy to miss. In a world that celebrates grand gestures and loud declarations, this piece honors the quiet, steady acts of care — the ones that ground us, reassure us, and make love feel safe.

This is an essay that I wrote on my experience with sharing my traumatic experiences people and learning that not everyone who calls you a friend, isn't really a friend.

I used to read this parable and think about hearts. Rocky hearts. Thorny hearts. Good soil hearts. Then I started gardening. Now I think about the actual soil. How I’ve planted seeds in ground I didn’t prep and watched them struggle. How weeds have choked out plants I neglected. How the good harvests came from soil I took time to nurture. Jesus used farming metaphors because his audience understood them. They lived it. They knew that good fruit doesn’t come from shortcuts. We’ve lost that connection. But when you work the land, the parables come alive. The Kingdom of God makes more sense with dirt under your nails.

A somewhat detailed description about me; including my hobbies, what I want to write about, and other random things I might throw in.

Update and apology on going m.i.a after posting my 1st note. I started a stream, posted 1 note and then didn’t come back. At least that’s how it looked.

A new Era of writing. Sharing your thoughts, creative process, owning and sharing experiences that you thin people should know for new beginners that's just starting out.

The fight is over, the fight that when I can't open my eyes I give up entirely. But not anymore. Now, I am the war, I am my words.

How my ex has lied to me in different ways, and how I've felt betrayed in knowing he lied.. but staying with him because I believed I could fix him.

So here is the basis of the stream. I will provide a brief summary of how and why modern medicine is pharmaceutical based instead of holistic or based from natural remedies. So we've all heard of and learned about John D. Rockefeller. I learned on history class that he was a railroad tycoon, owner of standard oil and a philanthropist. The later is a stretch. I learned just a few years back that he was the driving force behind creating modern medicine. Basically, he wasn't rich enough and wanted to find another way to make money on all this oil he had.

The door represents our urge to feel and know what once was, our memories. And how it pulls us in to it's grasp, and we don't look back.

The kind of hatred I feel, the kind I sometimes yearn for when I feel nothing stiring In my chest. The kind.. that makes your blood boil over.

This poem/prayer was originally written as the intro to a blog post on rantingsofasouthernmadwoman.wordpress.com.

This was originally written for a contest. The prompt was that it had to start with the line "something was moving in the dark".

An insight into my brain about human interaction and how I feel about it most days. And what I feel I would want to say to people, or- rather what I say to myself in my head.

How far my fondness goes for humanity, and how society has treated me so far, and how I've experienced/felt so far.