Writing Prompt
STORY STARTER
Skip seven songs on your music player. The opening lyics will be the opening sentence of your story or poem.
For example, "I can't escape this hell,"- Three Days Grace, Animal I have Become
Writings
Seasons
“I can’t be your love.” Alexander’s voice turned cold. “But..why?!” I panicked, locking my eyes into his sapphire blue ones. I was swimming in them, now I started drowning. “I was never meant for it.” He shook his head. He was holding back something, but what was it? I grabbed his hand, “yes you are.” I looked at him with hope, this was was happening, I was really confessing. “Sarah I-“ “Alexander! You can’t spend the rest of your life alone in an apartment, listening to music that isn’t even…” my words faded. I wanted the best for him, and he thinks he deserved nothing. No— he deserved the world, “it’s not your fault things ended up turning the way it is. You need someone here with you.” He sniffed, I couldn’t tell if it was because of the temperature or because of my words, but I got my answer. “What are you so afraid of, Alex?” I asked him gently, my voice shaking now. “I’m afraid…I’ll ruin your life.”
“I can’t be your love.”
“I can’t be your love, because I’m afraid, I’ll ruin your life.” -Seasons, Wave to Earth <3
Meaning; This song is about how one (the narrator) can’t love because he thinks he is not good enough for someone, but will always be beside someone.
50 States 50 Line 50 Crying all the times
I watched your figure fade further into obscurity, every road sign passed like a lock on a door I never wanted to close. But it creaked and crawled on its hinges as my tires dragged away. A low roar settled under the car, as it roamed across the crumbling stone that hadn’t seen a maintenance crew since the early 1900s. My hands shook on the steering wheel and if i focused hard enough, I could feel your presence getting weaker. I knew that the moment, our final moment, would be coming soon. We had said our last goodbye, but I couldn’t help reminding myself that the real end would come when I had truly left you behind. The moment when I knew you would go on living and my life would go on, but not together. Not like we had been for every year of our never-ending childhood.
Time went on and each mile reminded me of the distance between us. I watched the traffic growing around me; part of me expected to see you in amongst them. A friend of a friend at least. Some memory of the town I was storing away in my mind, waiting to forget. All I saw were strangers and people who I might’ve known if I was someone else. It was a another persons world, their life and their people. My loneliness settled in to the passengers side and sealed the window to the outside. There was an odd sense of comfort in that.
A sign readied itself for my line of sight and I prepared to read. Nebraska. It was a state line. I wish I could say I screamed in joy or cried out for home, but the only feeling left was absence. The absence of the people I had spent my whole life with. Absence of familiarity and knowledge. And above all else, and absence of any real answer as to how this made me feel. I was looking my future in the eye with all the excitement of a newsman on his 100th show. Detachment flooded my senses and I drove further away from the past into a present I didn’t understand in the slightest. I hoped that soon I would know whether that thought was incredible or the most terrifying fate imaginable.
I Miss The Days
I Miss The Days - NF
(warning: depression, anxiety are mentioned (Just to be safe))
I miss the days when everything I worried about was not being late to school and remembering all my friends‘ birthdays.
I miss the days when I wasn‘t constantly thinking about how much of a disappointment I was to my parents.
I miss the days when my anxiety didn‘t make me question every decision I made.
I miss the days when I was excited about growing up and graduating, starting my life.
I miss the days when I didn‘t spend my nights overthinking my life and questioning why I am even alive.
I miss the days when I dreamed big and didn‘t think about limits.
Now I‘m scared to make decisions because they could be wrong.
Now everyone I know and love has this expectant look in their eyes that makes me feel small and scared.
Now I don‘t know what to say when people ask me what I want.
How do you tell them that you didn‘t expect to come this far? That you didn‘t plan this far ahead because you expected to fail and sometimes hoped to die?
I don‘t want to talk to them about all these topics because I don‘t know how to express these feelings in a way they could understand.
So I listen to music and all these artists who put their feelings out in the open and talk about what I‘m feeling.
They say what I can‘t and sometimes I hope that the people around me listen closely and understand so I don‘t have to explain these feelings inside me that make me feel so vulnerable.
The pitiful goodbye
“Can you hear the drums Fernando? “ Ira stood in the doorway her husband Fernando stood there gun and arms, pack sling over his shoulder the war had started Fernando had been drafted he kissed Ira for one last time. He was going to France to fight in the Great War he wasn’t going to return. Meanwhile Ira was helpless to stop it Fernando was going to die. He was in a special regiment specialising in suicide missions. That thought broke Ira. Fernando tried to comfort. The drums sounded again. “Ira, if I die do you want to know what my last thought will be about”
“What”
“You” He then hugged her before starting a walk he would never walk again.
Insomnia of regret
Desoleil - loyle carner ft sampha
Back, aye, nobody thought I was leaving, Caught with the grieving was taught to mislead him when all I’ve been caught in the seasons, ... Trust , aye, Ain’t looking for the reason, thoughts still with me when I’m sleepin and struggling with breathing insomnia does creep in, Cz I know it’s you, and I ain’t screaming treason but I do really wanna just forget for a weekend, so I can have a smile on my face for a second, and a good nights sleep cz my brain needs resetting, at the moment it’s overheating hasn’t had a rest in weeks, been trying mediation, and self medicating with the green, but red is the only colour that I ever see it’s just getting worse and I just wanna break free, free from this chain that you’re still holding over me, Free from regrets hear your ghostly words still speak, free from this pain I can’t take another day, free from this bed where sleepless I still lay
The shadow on the wall
Listen. Seeing you got ritualistic. I can’t have you sliding under the door any more with the clattering of you claws. It frightens me far too much.
How does it do it, the Bone blackness of that shadow creeping silently under the door and over the walls. I wish you wouldn’t. Stop.
Why is it that it frightens me so much, this thing on the wall, looking at me. There’s nothing but black but I feel like there are invisible eyes looking straight at me. Through me. It’s frozen just staring at me, I can feel the tickle of hairs raising on my skin as it looks at me.
Why won’t it go away. I can’t stop looking at it. There’s a noise, small and precise. A slow arm raises and separates from this shadow, then a hand. Then the claws. Five thinned points appear, I can look at them but not focus. It’s moving without moving in my mind but I know it’s doing something. It’s crawling again. Slithering on the walls slowly but time slips by as it passes. Out of the window it goes into the orange glow of a street lamp and beyond into the trees. I close my eyes and blink and it’s the morning. I sit and watch those trees. They sway leaves and watch back. It’s there. It’s looking at me.
Pace is the Trick
You can't hold it too tight These matters of security You don't have to be wound so tight Smoking on the balcony -Pace is the Trick, Interpol
You can’t hold it too tight For fear of causing a squeal as the last puff of life flurries about, frantic to flicker, free again.
Theses matters of security That twist around me Tangled and tight, pulling all breath And desire to be.
You don’t have to be wound so tight Is what I told you when we fought on the way to the bodega. I talk to the cat inside and buy a pack of Mentos.
Smoking on the balcony is usually where I’ll find you. Apart from the crowd, you appear introspective, a loner. But I know you’re just tuned out, coasting.