(I WOULD LIKE TO REMIND YOU, READER, THAT THIS IS A HORROR STORY WHICH MEANS THAT IT SURELY CONTAINS: GORE(blood, guts, this kind of thing, you know), STRONG LANGUAGE(mostly ‘fuck’s), STRONG IMAGERY(blood, death, murders, etc) AND OVERALL LOTS OF BAD THINGS THAT CAN BE DISTURBING, TRIGGERING, ETC, SO BE VERY AWARE OF THIS BEFORE YOU READ please)
Leslie threw herself on her parents’ bed and quickly bundled up in the covers. She was now more than ever unwilling to face the monstrous mirror glued to the ceiling. Continue reading
If I have too much time to think about something I’m going to do, I’ll eventually fuck it up. I have to go with my guts.
Thing is, there’s only a few seconds that separate the spontaneity of an action and the beginning of an overthought action. Once I’ve reached that little second in between, I can’t go back cos I’ll already be starting to over think things. Usually, my first thought at that moment is ‘shit, I’m already starting to over think, what can I do?’ and that shows exactly that the thing I’m gonna do is gonna feel awkward (for me at least).
Of course, I’ll still have the possibility to hold my breath for three seconds(to simulate spontaneity… If I don’t breathe, I don’t think, right?) and go for it. This does bring back some gut energy but rarely takes the awkwardness away for me.
I’ve been planning on writing a blog for so long that, now that I’ve got one, I can’t help but feel lost. What am I supposed to write?
Isn’t it a bit ironic though to spontaneously write about not being spontaneous enough in my actions? Maybe I should consider looking in a mirror once in a while just to make sure that I’m not doing exactly the things I think I can’t do while I’m thinking I can’t do them… Haha