This is just a bunch of depressing quotes and poems that I write I’m doing it just to share and find others like myself

The classroom had rows of low tables and cushions to sit on. There were two of these low tables in each row and I made my way over to an empty one. The prince silently sat down next to me and I had to stop myself flinching. Why can't these royal bastards leave me in peace? First it was the fifth prince, and now it was the youngest one. 
Prince Sanghue doesn't yet have his title of third prince, as he was borne from a concubine, but he still had many years to prove himself. I look over to Wu Roqing and she is seated next to the youngest son of the Huong family. He becomes one of her love interests later in the book. She looks back and waves at me and I cheerfully wave back, completely ignoring the prince.
Teacher Pie begins his lesson on poems and other nonsense. I've always hated literature and was very mediocre in the subject. But thankfully I remember a lot of poems from my previous life. I could just steal some and say that I created it myself.
"When you write poems, you must express yourself, say what you feel. Bring it out from your soul, within your heart…"
God he sounds like my highschool Creative writing teacher. While I'm thinking about what to write, I subconsciously tap my brush handle on the table, which was an old habit of mine. The prince seemingly got irritated by this and said, "Could you kindly not do that?"
'Okay…' I said still not looking at him, deep in thought, not aware that he had even spoken to me. Ah, I decide to write a depressing poem, that won an award in my previous life.
I write it down as best as I can remember it. Teacher Pei claps his hands, "Alright, when I call your name, stand up and recite your poem. First to go, Prince Sanghue." 
~~~~~
Jin Qingye was deep in thought. Why did Xier's sister remind him so much of someone? He felt like he had seen her somewhere. Where had he heard that voice before? He sat his office and was pondering this for almost an hour now. His attendant, who was sitting in front of him, stared at his master's strange expression.
"Master, is there anything that is troubling you?"
"Say, have you seen the eldest Miss Song outside of the palace?"
"No Master, she hasn't come out to the public yet."
"I keep thinking I saw here sometime else…"
"Shall I send my spies to gather information?"
"Yes do that…"
He gets up and heads towards Teacher Pei's building, to see Laing. He stands outside her window, and he could hear her speaking. It seems like she is reciting some sort of poem.
~~~~~
The prince's poem was something about nature, and was totally boring. While everyone enthusiastically clapped, I just gave him a slow clap. Everyone else's poems were also nature based, and some even about the kingdom. However I clap extra hard when my cousins and Roqing present because I'm a great friend.
"Song Laing!"
I stood up to present my plagerised poem. I clear my throat and begin.
'Sometimes, when one loves,
Their love is destined to end in pain.
But when I see her face,
I can somehow tell,
We were meant to be.
But even love that was meant to be,
Was never meant to be.'
When I finish my poem, everyone is silent, and even Teacher Pei doesn't say anything. I clear my throat and sit back down. I guess people don't do depressing stuff. I look a the person next to me, to only catch him staring at me thoughtfully. I freeze and frown, and look away. Why is this guy looking at me? What a creep…
The rest of the lesson is spent in silence as Teacher Pei explained things to us. After class, I quickly ran towards Roqing and my cousins.
"Wow, Miss Laing, that was such a deep poem. How did you come up with it?"
'Oh you know, I just reflected my feelings like teacher was telling us to do.'
"My cousin is really talented, ah!"
'You guys a really too much…'
We laughed all the way to the food hall.
~~~~~
Jin Qingye was a bit shocked after hearing her poem. It sounded so sad, and heartbreaking. He wanted to know who on earth dared to hurt this girl. After the lesson had ended, she ran towards her friends and listened as she explained she had written from her feelings.
Seeing her happy face when she talked about something so sad made him feel extremely strange. He remembered the sad tone she narrated her poem in.
"Where have I heard that tone before?" he thought to himself.
He needed to ponder on this a bit more.
~~~~~
Prince Sanghue looked in surprise as the girl named Song Laing ran off towards her friends. What a strange girl. Normal girls would shower him with the utmost respect and importance, but this girl she didn't even attempt to speak to him the entire lesson. 
What surprised him was the quality of her poem. He didn't want to admit it, but her poem's quality rivals those of the poets in the high courts. It was better than his in every way.
The way she narrated it also dumbfounded him. The pain in her voice could clearly be heard. It sounded so genuine, like she had been through quite something. 
He walked back to the prince's residences pondering thoroughly about many things.

After a Japanese woman dies in an accident, her conscious and soul somehow transports into the body of the Villainess in one of her favourite light novels.
Unfortunately for her, as a villainess she is destined to have a bad ending. This is the story of how she tries to change her fate and save everyone she loves.
Will she be able to change her destiny?

-------
Note: None of this is based on actual events or real life places in history. This story is set in a fantasy world, with its own set of rules.

*This novel is experimental, I'm trying to get more experience as a writer.

Warning:
Few Mature Scenes
Course Language

Ziyou Heping felt it best to not get involved with the old man. After all, why would he purposely put himself in danger, not only that but it would be far too much trouble. Ziyou Heping could barely cope with his own mental problems, why would he go about helping others with their own? Also, who would believe him if he said that he could see ghosts? 

Person A, Yeah no dude, I could totally see ghosts, not tripping balls though. 

Person B, Yeah dude, totally.

Person A, Yo, my boy. I can see that you've been sad lately through like, your soul man.

Person B, Really man? I obviously didn't know that.

Person A, Yo, let me help you instead of you seekng therapy or something. 

Ziyou Heping felt a headache coming on. He thought that this new life would be far less stressful then his last one, but looks like stress and him are soulmates. Ziyou Heping wondered what would be more stressful, ghosts or his family in the past life? Look, Ziyou Heping could now call it his past life so easily, so why can't he just leave it behind just as easily?

"Why are your thoughts so depressing? Look, you got a breathtaking body and there's a Male god to seduce!" The old man chimed in cheerfully.

Ziyou Heping felt his face heat up. So embarrassing… 

The old man laughed, his teasing not stopping in the slightest. "Ah? My little student had a little crush? Hm, tell teacher all about it."

Ziyou Heping paused before a thought popped into his mind. Saying in a saccharine voice, "Dear old man, why do you know such terms as Male god, hmm? Does someone had a crush on one in the past, did you haunt him? Did love letters and poems suddenly appear in his room? Did you become the school girl of his dreams?" 

It was the old mans turn to be speechless. Seeing the overly sweet smile on Ziyou Heping's seductive face, the old man finally found his voice. "I'm not that old, okay? I can know these terms too! Also what the hell is going on in that brain of your? I am a bonafide straight man!"

Ziyou Heping burst out laughing, trying his best to stifle his voice so that he won't wake anyone up. His depressing mood gone just like that. He really needed a good laugh after so long. 

"Yeah okay. I totally understand." He felt it comfortable to talk to the old man. Although this was strange because of how Ziyou Heping's personality works, Ziyou Heling decisively decided to ignore it and just enjoy the it. 

"It seems you've unconsciously started speaking out loud, watch that habit or else people are going to think your crazy. If the Male god thinks you're crazy, how can you seduce him then!?" The old man shouted in Ziyou Heping's mind.

Ziyou Heping shook his head, his tense body finally relaxing. The drowsiness washing over him like tides. Although recently he had been sleeping most of the time, his weakened body just couldn't keep up with all that's been happening. He really needed sleep. So that's just what he did.

Yan Chouyan stared fixedly at the sketch before him. Siting lazily on a chair on the balcony, Yan Chouyan didn't fell that the sketch accurately captured the beauty of Ziyou Heping. Yan Chouyan's brows scrunched into a frown. Languidly bringing the lit cigarette to his lips, Ziyou Heping took a deep breathe in before releasing it. The stress he had felt leaving along with the smoke. Gazing at the stars and moon, Yan Chouyan smooshed the cigarette into the black ashtray. Getting up, Yan Chouyan calmly steadied his mind. 

Yan Chouyan turned his head so that he faced behind himself. His gaze colliding with cold and detached blue eyes. Pursing his lips, Yan Chouyan called softly,

"Qi Ze?"

Ziyou Heping was reborn. Not only reborn but transmigrated into the body of Young Master Ziyou Heping, who died of poisoning. Starting a new life, Ziyou Heping thought it would be a more happy and peaceful life. However, It seems he's destined to have an eventful life of seeing spirits. 

A modern/supernatural BL. 
Warning: This story talks about dark topics like, suicide, abuse, bullying, self-harm, and other such topics. 
However, it has comedy and light parts because I can't stand to heavy of a BL.


Time is unpredictable. Every action we make leads to a different heading. Still every one of us worries about what lies ahead. On what's in store for our lives. We worry about the tomorrow every single day.  Wishing that tomorrow will be better from today. A tomorrow in which there's no pain, suffering and hurt, a new beginning, new chances and opportunities. We all wish for a tomorrow like that. Still I learned in my life to never look forward. To not expect on what tomorrow will bring. Because I don't want to be disappointed. To look forward for a future that I know I can never have. Yeah it's depressing, but I've live my life like this. Always looking back, never forward. It's one of the curses of being able to remember everything. You'll keep on wanting to forget or either go back to the times you still can laugh and be happy. In which I didn't have any of those.
It's been about seven years or so. Since I last saw the girl who gave color and happiness to my life. The girl that I haven't seen in such a long time. Still I remember everything about her. But the worst part is I know that she doesn't recall any moment of us being together, well it's been seven years and some people might have moved on and had met other people. Found happiness and know where their lives are heading to. But not me. I still feel heavy and empty. Yet I'm getting by. I college graduate with a degree in literature. Can't even believe that the course that I would choose is about writing. Right now I'm working at a newspaper. But I don't write news article. I'm still writing with my specialty. Poems that I don't know if anyone actually notices. I get feedback from readers every once and a while. But I think no ones that interested in my work.
I've been also trying to write my own book that I would publish with the many I have. Well it's a move that's unlike me. But I have a story to tell. Yet I'm having troubles in writing neither the ending nor the next events. Well you see since I can't forget her and almost every night she is still on my mind. What I do is write about her. Write a story about me and her. Our ifs. Yet I can't really be optimistic. That's why even on the book I'm writing it still ends up like this. The lead character being lost. Having to say goodbye to the only thing that's giving his world light. I really miss Ana. Each night I go on wondering where is she now. Still hoping that we will see each other again. Though my heart knows it's impossible
For seven years it's been like this. At first I stayed in touch with Ana's parents but after some time. I can't contact them. That's why for seven years I've been living my life wondering. There are moment where I almost gave into depression. But I held on because deep inside a fragment of my sanity believes that we will see each other again. Well I think that's about it. Your all caught up with my life. Nothing really much happened in college. As always I was a loner and an outcast, because I choose to be one. That's why for seven years. The only person I interacted with is my boss. Who discovered my poems when I was still a student. Ironically the poem that my boss read to hire me. Was the first poem I wrote for Ana, but I just went with it. My boss is really nice. He loves poetry that's why he keeps on insisting putting a section of it in his newspaper, thanks to him I have a job.
A job that I'm not that passionate about. But I'm ok with it. Because maybe this was it. The last remnant of  Ana that is still in me. That spark of being able to write once more. Maybe someday I'll get over everything. Someday I'll be fine. I'll just continue writing poems. And writing my book. I'm ok with this being the ending of a story. But once more things change. Another event that would make me hope for a better tomorrow that I know will be sorrow.
I was walking home. I went of my office minding my own business. Just like when I was in high school. Ears plug with music not minding the world or my surrounding. Lost in thought instead of the melody that I'm hearing. Thinking. Being on my own even surrounded by many people walking. Then something broke the silence. Someone burst my bubble. A person that I've been wanting to see for this whole seven years. It was her Ana
"Hey" she said to me as she tries to get my attention
But I didn't hear her at first because I'm listening to music. So he touched my shoulder and once again said
"Hey are you Joseph"
Then I finally notice her. I turned around and saw her. It's been seven years. I don't know what to actually feel. My mind turned blank. The thoughts that I was lost in suddenly  disappear and all I wanted to do was to hug her. But I didn't because this all feels unreal that's why I thought I was imagining things. But no it was really her. That smile. That voice, that same innocence in her eyes. It was really her. And she remembers me.
"Ana is that you?"
"Oh how do you know my name? That's weird I didn't remember we have met before"
Then once again my hope turned into nothing. Because she don't remember me but how can she recognize me then from what I can see. I figure it out.
"Uhm no but it's written in your name tag"
Luckily she was wearing a nametag I was safe. 
"Oh yes my bad. Well I don't really know you as a person but I recognize you from this" she said and showed me the newspaper
Then just like I thought she only recognize me because of the newspaper she was holding. I didn't know what to feel. Happy that she continues to read my work or sad because she can't remember me and that I once wrote for her
"I see well thanks for your support"
I wanted to end the conversation. Because I thought to myself it's better to end things here. Rather than make myself hope that the new memories that will about the make if I keep the conversation going is a memory she'll remember. 
"Your welcome" she said with a smile on her face
"Well I have to get going now once again thanks and it was nice meeting you"
I said those words. Because I cant bear looking at that smile. I don't want to be hopeful once more. But as I was about to leave she grabbed my hand. Then it reminded me when we first met on that bridge.
"Wait don't leave"
"Why?"
"Well two reasons. Let me know more about your work. The second reason is…"
"What is it?"
"Is I don't how to get home will you help me?"
I just don't know what is happening. What is causing this turn of events. After seven long years we met again. But why me to all the people to ask. Why me? For all the people that is walking in this area why did she ask me?
"I don't know how to help you and why me?
"Because I want it to be you, I don't know how to explain it. But your poems has always spoke to me. Each time I read your work on this newspaper I feel as if we know each other and I cant remember. Then as I forget how to get home. I was holding this newspaper then I saw you and recognize your face from the picture here posted as the writer. Well I'm sorry for being a bother but I just really need your help"
What she said made me happy. Because I've been writing in the news paper for about 3 years and if she was reading my work all this time that meant one thing. All the poems I've written so far have reached her. Just hearing her say the word that my poems spoke to her. That made me feel so relieved. That all this time I wasn't writing for nothing. All my efforts was not in vain. that's why with that being said. I didn't overthink. I just smiled at her and walked with her.
"Fine I'll help you get home"
Those were my words but yes deep inside I'm happy but still holding back my words
"Yay Thanks and let me properly introduce myself I'm Ana."
"Ok I'm Joseph got any idea where you live?"
"Not a clue, you see I suffer from short term memory loss. So sometimes there are details in my life that I tend to forget."
"Well I guess for now lets walk around and see if you can spot a familiar place for you"
We started walking around and talking. Then we decided to rest for a bit by sitting down on a bench. There we continued our conversation
"so tell me more about yourself Ana?"
I tried small talk. Asking her questions to get some hint about what was she doing in the past seven years
"Well right now I honestly don't know what to do."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You see I have short term memory loss"
"Yeah you told me that and so?"
"Because of this condition. I forget a lot things about my life. I cant retain any memory. I only remember the now then later on forget it. Living like this has been hard. Especially for those I love. My parents have the hardest jobs. Because for years they have been taking care of me. Enduring hospital bills and buying the medication I need. Also I cant really bear to see them cry sometimes. Because there are moments when I make them cry."
"How do you know that?"
"I've started writing a journal a while back. Sometimes when I wake up I read it. But there are days when I don't believe I have short term memory loss. Those are the normal days for me. And today is where I believe I have short term memory in which are the weird days. But the worst days is when I cant remember anything"
What she told me had open my eyes on how hard it must be for her parents and also for her. No wonder they didn't stay in contact since they have to focus in caring for Ana
"then how come you remember my work?"
"well its because it's a weird day. And theres a whole section of your poems in my journal. That's why on weird days like these I read some of them. Luckily today I met you. That's why let me ask you. Who are you really writing for? Or what is your inspiration"
As she asked that question. I don't know weather to tell her the truth about its for her, or not. That's why as I writer I just answer vaguely. By telling her a story about a girl.  Because I don't want to really hope once again that I will be remembered
"Uhm its for a girl I met seven years ago. A girl that bought color to my life. And through my poems I hope I could reach her"
"Why? Where did this girl go anyway?"
"She went abroad. I haven't really heard from her since. For seven years I worry about her. Wondering if shes ok or if I'll ever meet her again. I keep on thinking if she will remember me when we see each other again or not"
"I'm sure she remembers you not unless…"
"Unless what?"
"She has short term memory loss like I do hahaha"
Then she laugh. I cant believe even knowing her situation she still laughed about it.  But me I just stared at her
"Oh sorry my bad. But really, I know she remembers you. Especially when she read some of your poems I'm sure she will remember you"
" I hope she does"
After that we just go on talking. Then I remember how she can get home.  I remember when we were highs school her phone has directions to their home. So she checked it and I walked her home.
"I had a really fun time" she said with a smile
"Me too it was nice talking to you. Also meeting you"
This has been like the seventh first meeting I had with her. But after this I don't know what to do. How can I stay in touch with her. That's why I did something for the first time. 
"Can I borrow your phone for a few minutes?"
"Sure why?"
"Uhm it's a surprise?
Then there I was once again writing for her
Tomorrow
To you everyday
Is a new day
Every night your memories go away
And that's not really ok
That's why I hope I can find a way
For me in your mind to stay
Can you write this day
In your journal so you could remember
The moments we had together
And on your weird days remember
To call me cause here is my number
I'll be waiting even its winter or summer
What lies ahead we may not know
But still I hope you never let go
Of the hope for a better tomorrow

This was all I can write at the moment. A short poem for her. In which I hope she read sometimes. After that. I went on home said my goodbye and hoping to see her again. We can never really predict whats coming. What time will bring. May it be new beginnings or old ones. But that is how life is. Always changing. Every choice we make leads to a different direction. That's why I learn to never expect. But right now I think for once I'll be expecting again for a better tomorrow. Without really knowing what comes next?.....



Time is unpredictable. Every action we make leads to a different heading. Still every one of us worries about what lies ahead. On what’s in store for our lives. We worry about the tomorrow every single day. Wishing that tomorrow will be better from today. A tomorrow in which there’s no pain, suffering and hurt, a new beginning, new chances and opportunities. We all wish for a tomorrow like that. Still I learned in my life to never look forward. To not expect on what tomorrow will bring. Because I don’t want to be disappointed. To look forward for a future that I know I can never have. Yeah it’s depressing, but I’ve live my life like this. Always looking back, never forward. It’s one of the curses of being able to remember everything. You’ll keep on wanting to forget or either go back to the times you still can laugh and be happy. In which I didn’t have any of those. 

It’s been about seven years or so. Since I last saw the girl who gave color and happiness to my life. The girl that I haven’t seen in such a long time. Still I remember everything about her. But the worst part is I know that she doesn’t recall any moment of us being together, well it’s been seven years and some people might have moved on and had met other people. Found happiness and know where their lives are heading to. But not me. I still feel heavy and empty. Yet I’m getting by. I college graduate with a degree in literature. Can’t even believe that the course that I would choose is about writing. Right now I’m working at a newspaper. But I don’t write news article. I’m still writing with my specialty. Poems that I don’t know if anyone actually notices. I get feedback from readers every once and a while. But I think no ones that interested in my work. 

I’ve been also trying to write my own book that I would publish with the many I have. Well it’s a move that’s unlike me. But I have a story to tell. Yet I’m having troubles in writing neither the ending nor the next events. Well you see since I can’t forget her and almost every night she is still on my mind. What I do is write about her. Write a story about me and her. Our ifs. Yet I can’t really be optimistic. That’s why even on the book I’m writing it still ends up like this. The lead character being lost. Having to say goodbye to the only thing that’s giving his world light. I really miss Ana. Each night I go on wondering where is she now. Still hoping that we will see each other again. Though my heart knows it’s impossible 

For seven years it’s been like this. At first I stayed in touch with Ana’s parents but after some time. I can’t contact them. That’s why for seven years I’ve been living my life wondering. There are moment where I almost gave into depression. But I held on because deep inside a fragment of my sanity believes that we will see each other again. Well I think that’s about it. Your all caught up with my life. Nothing really much happened in college. As always I was a loner and an outcast, because I choose to be one. That’s why for seven years. The only person I interacted with is my boss. Who discovered my poems when I was still a student. Ironically the poem that my boss read to hire me. Was the first poem I wrote for Ana, but I just went with it. My boss is really nice. He loves poetry that’s why he keeps on insisting putting a section of it in his newspaper, thanks to him I have a job. 

A job that I’m not that passionate about. But I’m ok with it. Because maybe this was it. The last remnant of Ana that is still in me. That spark of being able to write once more. Maybe someday I’ll get over everything. Someday I’ll be fine. I’ll just continue writing poems. And writing my book. I’m ok with this being the ending of a story. But once more things change. Another event that would make me hope for a better tomorrow that I know will be sorrow. 

I was walking home. I went of my office minding my own business. Just like when I was in high school. Ears plug with music not minding the world or my surrounding. Lost in thought instead of the melody that I’m hearing. Thinking. Being on my own even surrounded by many people walking. Then something broke the silence. Someone burst my bubble. A person that I’ve been wanting to see for this whole seven years. It was her Ana 

“Hey” she said to me as she tries to get my attention 

But I didn’t hear her at first because I’m listening to music. So he touched my shoulder and once again said 

“Hey are you Joseph” 

Then I finally notice her. I turned around and saw her. It’s been seven years. I don’t know what to actually feel. My mind turned blank. The thoughts that I was lost in suddenly disappear and all I wanted to do was to hug her. But I didn’t because this all feels unreal that’s why I thought I was imagining things. But no it was really her. That smile. That voice, that same innocence in her eyes. It was really her. And she remembers me. 

“Ana is that you?” 

“Oh how do you know my name? That’s weird I didn’t remember we have met before” 

Then once again my hope turned into nothing. Because she don’t remember me but how can she recognize me then from what I can see. I figure it out. 

“Uhm no but it’s written in your name tag” 

Luckily she was wearing a nametag I was safe. 

“Oh yes my bad. Well I don’t really know you as a person but I recognize you from this” she said and showed me the newspaper 

Then just like I thought she only recognize me because of the newspaper she was holding. I didn’t know what to feel. Happy that she continues to read my work or sad because she can’t remember me and that I once wrote for her 

“I see well thanks for your support” 

I wanted to end the conversation. Because I thought to myself it’s better to end things here. Rather than make myself hope that the new memories that will about the make if I keep the conversation going is a memory she’ll remember. 

“Your welcome” she said with a smile on her face 

“Well I have to get going now once again thanks and it was nice meeting you” 

I said those words. Because I cant bear looking at that smile. I don’t want to be hopeful once more. But as I was about to leave she grabbed my hand. Then it reminded me when we first met on that bridge. 

“Wait don’t leave” 

“Why?” 

“Well two reasons. Let me know more about your work. The second reason is…” 

“What is it?” 

“Is I don’t how to get home will you help me?” 

I just don’t know what is happening. What is causing this turn of events. After seven long years we met again. But why me to all the people to ask. Why me? For all the people that is walking in this area why did she ask me? 

“I don’t know how to help you and why me? 

“Because I want it to be you, I don’t know how to explain it. But your poems has always spoke to me. Each time I read your work on this newspaper I feel as if we know each other and I cant remember. Then as I forget how to get home. I was holding this newspaper then I saw you and recognize your face from the picture here posted as the writer. Well I’m sorry for being a bother but I just really need your help” 

What she said made me happy. Because I’ve been writing in the news paper for about 3 years and if she was reading my work all this time that meant one thing. All the poems I’ve written so far have reached her. Just hearing her say the word that my poems spoke to her. That made me feel so relieved. That all this time I wasn’t writing for nothing. All my efforts was not in vain. that’s why with that being said. I didn’t overthink. I just smiled at her and walked with her. 

“Fine I’ll help you get home” 

Those were my words but yes deep inside I’m happy but still holding back my words 

“Yay Thanks and let me properly introduce myself I’m Ana.” 

“Ok I’m Joseph got any idea where you live?” 

“Not a clue, you see I suffer from short term memory loss. So sometimes there are details in my life that I tend to forget.” 

“Well I guess for now lets walk around and see if you can spot a familiar place for you” 

We started walking around and talking. Then we decided to rest for a bit by sitting down on a bench. There we continued our conversation 

“so tell me more about yourself Ana?” 

I tried small talk. Asking her questions to get some hint about what was she doing in the past seven years 

“Well right now I honestly don’t know what to do.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“You see I have short term memory loss” 

“Yeah you told me that and so?” 

“Because of this condition. I forget a lot things about my life. I cant retain any memory. I only remember the now then later on forget it. Living like this has been hard. Especially for those I love. My parents have the hardest jobs. Because for years they have been taking care of me. Enduring hospital bills and buying the medication I need. Also I cant really bear to see them cry sometimes. Because there are moments when I make them cry.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“I’ve started writing a journal a while back. Sometimes when I wake up I read it. But there are days when I don’t believe I have short term memory loss. Those are the normal days for me. And today is where I believe I have short term memory in which are the weird days. But the worst days is when I cant remember anything” 

What she told me had open my eyes on how hard it must be for her parents and also for her. No wonder they didn’t stay in contact since they have to focus in caring for Ana 

“then how come you remember my work?” 

“well its because it’s a weird day. And theres a whole section of your poems in my journal. That’s why on weird days like these I read some of them. Luckily today I met you. That’s why let me ask you. Who are you really writing for? Or what is your inspiration” 

As she asked that question. I don’t know weather to tell her the truth about its for her, or not. That’s why as I writer I just answer vaguely. By telling her a story about a girl. Because I don’t want to really hope once again that I will be remembered 

“Uhm its for a girl I met seven years ago. A girl that bought color to my life. And through my poems I hope I could reach her” 

“Why? Where did this girl go anyway?” 

“She went abroad. I haven’t really heard from her since. For seven years I worry about her. Wondering if shes ok or if I’ll ever meet her again. I keep on thinking if she will remember me when we see each other again or not” 

“I’m sure she remembers you not unless…” 

“Unless what?” 

“She has short term memory loss like I do hahaha” 

Then she laugh. I cant believe even knowing her situation she still laughed about it. But me I just stared at her 

“Oh sorry my bad. But really, I know she remembers you. Especially when she read some of your poems I’m sure she will remember you” 

“ I hope she does” 

After that we just go on talking. Then I remember how she can get home. I remember when we were highs school her phone has directions to their home. So she checked it and I walked her home. 

“I had a really fun time” she said with a smile 

“Me too it was nice talking to you. Also meeting you” 

This has been like the seventh first meeting I had with her. But after this I don’t know what to do. How can I stay in touch with her. That’s why I did something for the first time. 

“Can I borrow your phone for a few minutes?” 

“Sure why?” 

“Uhm it’s a surprise? 

Then there I was once again writing for her 

Tomorrow 

To you everyday 

Is a new day 

Every night your memories go away 

And that’s not really ok 

That’s why I hope I can find a way 

For me in your mind to stay 

Can you write this day 

In your journal so you could remember 

The moments we had together 

And on your weird days remember 

To call me cause here is my number 

I’ll be waiting even its winter or summer 

What lies ahead we may not know 

But still I hope you never let go 

Of the hope for a better tomorrow 

This was all I can write at the moment. A short poem for her. In which I hope she read sometimes. After that. I went on home said my goodbye and hoping to see her again. We can never really predict whats coming. What time will bring. May it be new beginnings or old ones. But that is how life is. Always changing. Every choice we make leads to a different direction. That’s why I learn to never expect. But right now I think for once I’ll be expecting again for a better tomorrow. Without really knowing what comes next?........

A love story about a guy with hyperthymesia and a girl with short term memory loss. The guy has a disorder that makes him able to recall every event in his life. The girl on the other hand got into an accident his temporal lobe got damage so she is unable to attain short term memories. As the plot continues the main character Joseph will keep on trying to make Ana remember her. John is Ana's best friend. Marie is the first love of Joseph. They will be the hurdles at first. Then Ana's disorder worsens she will forget everything. For years they'll be separated and when they meet again. Joseph will redo and try if Ana will remember her. Then in the end they will create a sort of journal and video. By doing so Ana will remember Joseph through what Joseph write

That afternoon.

Beijing Television Station.

In an office at a certain floor, Zhang Ye was led by a staff member from the front desk. He did not even see which floor the elevator had stopped at. This was because he was feeling a bit worried. He knew this was the last chance for him to enter a television station. So he treated it with highest regard, hoping that he could grab this opportunity.

The office was empty.

"Teacher Zhang, please wait a minute." the staff member said.

"Alright." Zhang Ye sat on a chair by the side.

The staff said, "The Leader should be coming soon."

Zhang Ye said, "Sure, do what you need to do. Thank you very much."

"You're welcome. Then I'll go first." The staff left after closing the door.

After a few minutes, a plump, middle-aged man pushed open the door and saw Zhang Ye immediately. He said with a sigh, "Teacher Little Zhang, you've come?"

"You are?" Zhang Ye found the voice familiar.

The middle-aged fatty said, "I'm Hu Fei. We've spoken on the phone twice."

Zhang Ye immediately came forward to shake hands with him, "Oh, so it’s Teacher Hu. It’s nice to meet you."

Hu Fei had previously seen Zhang Ye at the Silver Microphone Awards, but Zhang Ye had not seen him. This was the first time they had actually interacted, so they exchanged pleasantries.

Finally, Hu Fei got round to business, "Teacher Little Zhang, you have to be mentally prepared for today's interview. There might not be too much hope."

Zhang Ye was stunned, "...I got it."

Hu Fei explained, "I have already repeatedly communicated with the management. In the morning, when I spoke with you, I still thought that I could convince them. But after all I said, they still felt you were not up to the task. The incident of you saying ‘Dead Water’ back then gave them concerns, and they were not... I have tried my very best. In a while, I will also try my best to help you win the job, but I can tell that they do not wish to let you come to the Beijing Television Station. Even if you were to pass the interview perfectly, they might not hire you. So, I'm informing you beforehand. You can only blame me for not doing my job in advance."

Zhang Ye immediately said, "I can't blame you. You have already helped me so much. It was my fault. Since I said 'Dead Water', scolding the unit and the management, then I already had the preparations to bear the consequences. So it's alright."

Suddenly, footsteps from outside could be heard.

Hu Fei stopped talking with Zhang Ye and sat on an interview seat behind the desk.

Zhang Ye was feeling bitter. This was like a roller coaster ride. A few hours ago, Hu Fei's words had given him hope. But in a blink of an eye, the situation had changed. He went from having hope to not having hope. He had not even gone through the interview, but he already knew he was sure to fail the interview? It was meaningless, no matter how well he answered? Zhang Ye felt his heart go cold to the freezing point, but he did not complain. As he said, since he had done certain things, he had to bear the consequences. Life had always been fair, so he had nothing to complain about!

Getting something is because I'm lucky!

Losing something is because of my fate!

Zhang Ye remained silent for a moment. His mental state also calmed down. Of course, he did not completely give up. Even if he knew the chances were slim or even zero, he still wanted to try!

The interviewers came in, one after another.

There were around 8-9 people. They were probably the channel or station's junior heads or staff.

"Old Hu, you've already come?" A 40+-year-old middle-aged man said.

"I also just came in," Hu Fei answered.

The middle-aged man looked at Zhang Ye, "This is Zhang Ye? Let's begin then."

"Alright, then let's allow Little Zhang to prepare?" Hu Fei suggested.

Zhang Ye said calmly, "I'm fine. I can have my interview any moment."

Everyone sat down. The middle-aged man that had spoken previously then sat in the middle. His name was Wang Shuixin. His name sounded slightly feminine, and he looked gentle, with his golden wire-rimmed glasses. Zhang Ye had checked the television station's official website's information before he came. He knew this person was the Beijing Television Station's Arts Channel's Director. He was probably the Leader of all the people present, and head of the Arts Channel.

There was not much public information one could find on the internet, but there was plenty of information about Wang Shuixin. Before he left, Zhang Ye had happened to find it online. Director Wang happened to be a poet in the past. A few years ago, he had published a few works and anthologies. He was best at modern poems. Although he did not have many works in recent times, he was still famous. Most people in the industry still knew him.

It was quite obvious after giving it some thought. As the head of the television's Arts Channel, he would not be able to have the role without some ability. He definitely had to have some literary quality to him.

"First introduce yourself?" Director Wang Shuixin said.

"My name is Zhang Ye. I'm 23 years old this year. I graduated from..." Zhang Ye began his self-introduction.

During this, a few interviewers were whispering to each other. Some frowned, while others shook their heads. It was as if they did not wish for Zhang Ye to enter their Arts Channel.

Wang Shuixin was also one of them. Back at the Silver Microphone Awards, he and Hu Fei were present. He had heard with his own ears Zhang Ye's angry recitation of "Dead Water". The atmosphere seemed to have exploded, but Wang Shuixin had secretly shook his head. He knew that Zhang Ye was a problematic person. It was not easy to handle him. His literary standards were passable, but his temper was too terrible. No Leader would want such a person. Leaders tended to want obedient subordinates, so by getting such a different kind of guy in, he would not be as gregarious and he had to worry that he would stir up something daily! So even though he treated Teacher Hu's recommendations seriously, Wang Shuixin was unimpressed!

Of course, there was another reason.

Wang Shuixin actually felt that Hu Fei was blowing Zhang Ye's so-called literary level out of proportions. And it was this matter. He never believed that Zhang Ye could compete on the same level as him. He felt that Zhang Ye was still far inferior! "Dead Water"? "A Generation"? Wang Shuixin believed that he could write such poems, too. He even felt that his previous works were much better than Zhang Ye's.

Cultured people tended to scorn each other!

No one considered themselves inferior!

Actually, the other interviewers had the same thoughts. Although Zhang Ye was highly acclaimed on the internet, they did not think that Zhang Ye could be compared to a master like Wang Shuixin. In the literature scene, Wang Shuixin was clearly not the most famous person, but he was a veteran who had many excellent works. Furthermore, he had several poems that were very popular. So how good could Zhang Ye, a young kid who had just appeared, be against Director Wang? At this interview, they were, in fact, not bothered. As Director Wang's attitude was very clear, Zhang Ye was definitely not going to be hired!

Zhang Ye finished his introduction.

Hu Fei interjected, "Director, Teacher Little Zhang has one of the highest literary skills amongst his generation. He is the best amongst his peers. Besides..."

Wang Shuixin interrupted his words, "He can be considered good amongst his peers, but he is far too inferior compared to predecessors who are in the arts."

Hu Fei tried to fight for Zhang Ye, "With Little Zhang's literary foundation, he is not necessarily worse than the predecessors."

Wang Shuixin was amused, "You are too absolute, Old Hu. I know that you appreciate Little Zhang, but maybe Little Zhang's literary skills match your appetite and managed to move you. But that does not mean others will be moved. It does not mean his literary skills are flawless. I know about the matter from the Mid-Autumn Poetry Meet. I also know Big Thunder, Old Zheng and a few of them. Do you think Little Zhang has exceeded people from the older generation just because you think Little Zhang overshadowed them? Not really. Actually, Big Thunder and company's poems are just a bit famous in the Beijing circles. They aren't much in the country. I also heard their poems back then at the Mid-Autumn Poetry Meet. They were all quite average. So Little Zhang overshadowing them can't show anything."

This Director was clearly a scholar to the bone. His temperament was competitive. He did not mince his words and had said it in front of Zhang Ye.

Zhang Ye gave him a glance and did not comment.

Hu Fei wanted to add on, "But Teacher Little Zhang..."

"Then let's test him with an interview question." Wang Shuixin said very confidently, "I can tell you, Old Hu, that he is weaker than me, not to mention other predecessor masters." Saying that, Wang Shuixin looked at Zhang Ye, "Little Zhang, we are just blindly chatting amongst ourselves. We aren't saying you are terrible, so don't take it to heart. Actually, to write ‘Dead Water’ at your age is already not bad."

Just not bad?

Zhang Ye smiled without speaking. He only thought that he was too careless!

"Alright, I'll not talk about your physical factors. I'll give you an interview question. There will only be one today for this interview. I actually want to see how much ability and skill a young man like you, who was recommended by Old Hu, has." Wang Shuixin said.

Zhang Ye said, "Please say it."

Wang Shuixin seemed to have the intentions to compete with Zhang Ye in literature, "I have a poem that I'm not sure if you have heard of. It's called 'Everything'."

He began reciting.

"Everything is fated."

"Everything is unreal."

"Everything has no end."

"Everything has no home to return to."

"Every happiness doesn't come with a smile."

"Every suffering doesn't have tears."

"Every past is in the dreams."

"Every faith comes with longing."

"Every burst is preceded by moments of silence."

"Every death has a prolonged echo!"

After a few interviewers heard this, they gave their praises again.

"Good poem!" a middle-aged woman said.

A youth said, "This is Director Wang's best poem, right? I always feel something whenever I hear it!"

Hu Fei also had to admit that this poem was excellent. This was probably written about four to five years ago by Wang Shuixin when he was at the lowest point of his life. It was very powerful. It called out to people's hearts and shocked the world!

Wang Shuixin said calmly, "Little Zhang, this is the interview question. This is one of the works that can be considered famous, and also a modern poem that I'm most pleased with. Teacher Hu has always said that your poetry is excellent and you have deep literary foundations. Then can you compose a poem here on the spot, to show us your literary level?"

If it was a poem that had no boundaries, it would have been nothing!

But it was Wang Shuixin who said his own poem first, which meant he wanted to compete with Zhang Ye. It was also called a "Poem Contest". If Zhang Ye was to create another work, it had to be targeted at Wang Shuixin's work. Furthermore, it had to exceed Director Wang's poem for him to pass. But was this possible?

Hu Fei knew it was impossible!

Not to mention the other interviewers!

What sort of poem was "Everything"? It was a poem that was previously included in high school textbooks! Although it was in an appendix and was not eye-catching, and was eventually removed due to its dark and depressing artistic quality, it was still a model essay that was once made into teaching material!

What could Zhang Ye use to compete with it?

He had nothing to compete with it!


Zhang Ye was originally a mundane college graduate with aspiring dreams to become a star, but unfortunately has below average looks and height. However one day, he woke up and suddenly found himself in a parallel world! 
It’s like the same world, but wait a minute…many brands, celebrities and even famous works from his world changed and are gone in this new world! Armed with the profound literary knowledge of his previous world and a heaven-defying Game Ring that gives him magical items, stats and skills, Zhang Ye embarks on a journey to pursue his life-long dream of becoming famous!
Follow Zhang Ye as he takes the new world by storm, one plagiarized piece at a time, to hilarious reactions!

[What's for breakfast? Dinner? Lunch? Or maybe you could write a poem about that time you met a friend at a café.]

Of all prompts I've ever written for, this one gave me the most trouble. Often I can pop out a tiny story from even just a word, but this prompt…I don't know how to explain it in a sentence—so I'll try to explain it with a few more sentences!
Seeing the word "Food", I imagined scenes of dining with my family, both at home and in restaurants, but I couldn't come up with a way to make that interesting without taking the time to put a supernatural spin on it (for some reason, I didn't want this to have supernatural aspects). 
Well, nothing comes to mind regarding poems about meeting a friend at a café, so what can I do with "What's for breakfast? Dinner? Lunch?"? 
Oh no, here come the depressing thoughts. Scenes of animals struggling to attain food came to mind, and I don't like tragedy, so I lost the mood to write.
Fast forward to a few hours later and I re-read the prompt. Instead of tragedy, why not a pseudo-informational post about the food cycle, following one animal at a time through its life until it's eaten by a different one? Or about how life evolved in many different ways to acquire "food"? Yeah, I can see it now! "Life evolved to acquire food in many different ways. While some life chose to MAKE food, such as plants, others found ways to steal life from others. In the case of fungi…"
I just didn't feel up for a pseudo-informative piece. It bored me. So, my mind wandered back to a previous idea. I might not like tragedy very much, but the idea of lacking food could make a really sad piece…
...
It opened with a scene of an exhausted mother laying a plate of rice and beans before her young son at the dinner table. The child's face immediately contorts, showing his disgust at the food. That expression hurts the mother's heart, making it ache. She knows her son doesn't like the rice and beans, but it's what she knows…and they have nothing else. 
The son slowly lowers his spoon into the meal, picking some up and putting it in his mouth with a frown. Just as the mother takes her leave to serve and eat her own food, she hears a deep, strangled sound from behind her, and spins at her heel to see her son choking. Terror strikes her, paralyzing her for a second before she hurries to the child's side and slaps his back with a hand, unsure of what to do. She remembers someone telling her that a "Heimlich maneuver" works to dislodge food from the windpipe, but never practiced it before and worries that she'll only make the situation worse. To her relief, her son only breathed in a single grain of rice, which he manages to spit out.
The mother wraps her arms around her son, thanking God. Just as she prepares to warn him about eating food too quickly…
"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!" The child yells from his mother's embrace.
"What happened, mijo…?"
The son's face turns to face his mother as he says, "I HATE rice and beans! You only cook rice and beans!"
The mom became saddened by his exclamation and feels pity, but knows it can't be helped and that they don't have anything else.
...
 Then the boy complained about wanting chicken nuggets and ice cream, yadda yadda, making his mother cry and wonder what her family did to deserve the financial crisis they were stuck in.
 That seems like a good idea for a prompt response, right? Wrong! Because that was all I could come up with and I deemed it to have insufficient substance for a prompt…so here I am, writing about thinking about writing it for a higher word count.
...
 It has been roughly 10 hours since I began writing this prompt response and it just doesn't feel up to par with the other four =/

365 days, 365 scenes.
Battles among supreme beings.
Poems about losing love.
Dragons showing mercy.
Kids stumbling upon magic.

This journey involves my answering of 365 creative writing prompts in a desperate bid to overcome my laziness.
The prompts come from https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/ and I write one a day.

THE SITUATION RIGHT NOW: I've gotten over the majority of my laziness. I'm unlikely to update this much. It's pretty much complete. The novel I'm working on is Dark Seas Leading Demise

"No bother," as what most everyone would say whenever I talk to them about my innuendos, and sentiments about myself, my family, and some other shit. I feel that it is indeed a bother to some as we all experience our own defeats, wars, and regrets in our living lives. It is hard to find someone to talk really about your problems as you do not want to add the burden they are experiencing as well.
      So for a few days, I did not talk to anyone; not asking for that second opinion about my plan to resign, and I kept posting some "depressing" or over-acting tweets on Twitter about how my life is going. If I manage to write some poems, I do it as well. Before, I think I was actually good at writing those so-called poems back in college, and I think it was because it was the start of blossoming darkness inside, and all I could do at that time aside from keeping on going in college and finish some of my units, I write some pieces of shits that I could never bother to finish at all.
    I do not know now if I could manage to finish this one as well, as I am always lost in my thoughts, and I find myself keep on floating in the dark night, and all I could see is the light from the moon, and I do not know if I could reach it.
    Maybe though, it is just the anxiety talking. Maybe that I could be destined for greatness. Maybe I was just imagining things, that COVID had never happened, my parents are annulled, and I am not sick in the mind.
  "You do not have to tell everyone what you're going through, Michael, because not everyone will understand," my psychologists tell me so, my mom tells me so, my psychiatrists tell me so, and I knew that as well. I kept in mind that advice.
  "It's alright, and no bother, Michael. I understand what you're going through," TL Adrian said to me at the Skype Messenger when I told him the reason I maybe keep on failing with my work statistics. "Have you been drinking your medications?"
  "Yes, I always am." I typed back to him.
  "Good thing that you're doing that because they said that it's already maintenance for people who has that. I knew a friend of mine close to me, and she has the same situation, so I truly understand."
  I wonder sometimes if I tell anyone about what's going to me, they do really understand and being sympathetic or just being sympathetic and is unable to understand at all? They give the nods, and sometimes with a touch on the shoulder as the sign of clarity (or pity?) of what I'm going through. Of course, my supervisor is unable to give me one since we're all work from home, and he's the first supervisor I said about this, to which reason I cannot remind myself of why I told him that. But it felt like I have to explain myself to everyone I encounter in my life.
    It's no bother, really. They say that when I say sorry for telling that to them, and sometimes I lie to myself every night if I can keep on going if I feel lost every time? I am really glad that I have my vape with me to smoke all the blues, to have my body consumed with nicotine that is already addicted. 
    Sometimes though, I feel unlucky that I cannot smoke a real cigarette to lessen the pain at least. But let me just remind you that I am not a drug addict. Never was, even though one time, my family accused me of being one back in college, and when I was thinking of that, it feels funny to remember those days, but at the same time, there is this guilt of all the wrong this I've done. Maybe because of living in the past, I cannot move on, and maybe because of this, I am sick in the mind and is always lost.
   "It's no bother." My mom said to me once when I failed at looking for a job back in mid-2017 and was asking her for an allowance for transportation and food on the road. She never once complained about my ways and my decision for not taking the field I supposed to since I was a graduate for Hotel and Restaurant shit, but most of the time, I wonder if she did complain once and was bother at me at all.
  It's no bother was a word I keep hearing of and was a thing in the past that keeps on bothering me all the time even though I am in a different position right now. The past is a bother to me because it brings back the pain, and it's my fault.
-
One time though I did ask for that second opinion if I should resign, and I think that I reached out to the right person.
   "I do not want you to resign because I see a lot of potential from you. All you need to focus on what you're doing and be optimistic about everything you do, will you? Because I believe in you." TL Adrian said to me through the Skype Messenger while I was on lunch (how lucky you can be as an employee to take breaks and lunch while still working from home). Even though I doubted the words he said, it lifted me my moral as a person for a bit. It is indeed more powerful when you get some words of wisdom or even criticism from other people than yourself.
   Maybe I can really do this. Maybe I can really endure those motherfucking cunts who all can do is to insult our service through chat (just for a record, not all are assholes, some of them are really understanding). Maybe I could really be meant for greatness like what my mom says to us all three children of hers. All I have to do is to have a stronger spirit, and maybe try to summon a divine intervention instead of all the negative thoughts every night in the dark of my room with that ugly ass wall I'm seeing.
-
It is the end of the month of May or early June when one of our colleagues at work resigned because he is unable to handle the pressure and stress of the workloads we are getting in Live Chat.
    When I see something bad about the government, people hurting people, people hurting animals, people in pain when their love ones died due to this COVID shit, I turn off my phone for a while, lay down on my bed, and try not to be triggered by the negative thoughts because before whenever I see catastrophe on social media, it triggers me a lot, and sometimes cry at night about how the world is unfair. It goes back again, and again. All those pains and sorrows are just too much to handle, and the worst thing is that you do not have anyone to bother them with all the words you want to say.
    Instead, when I heard the news, what I did is announced an early break, to which I was allowed, laid down on my bed, took my vape, took a hit, and watch all the smoking blues to fade against the air.
    At that time, I did not allow myself to be bothered with anything at all, no matter what people say. I need to focus on my own battles, and for now, I do not give a fuck about what's happening around, outside, or even inside of the house I am stuck in for a while. Even though you say that I am the worst person to feel nothing, and unsympathetic about the other people who suffer.
   I may kill for a feeling of nothingness even though I was starting to feel it right now.

Michael Angelo Pablo's mental health is pushed to boundaries when the quarantine was implemented in the month of March in the year 2020. 

What could be of Michael during the time of the pandemic? Since then, he always has mental health problems, but will his predicament the whole world is experiencing worsens or heals him? Since then, he's been together with his family and started the work from the home set-up. But does that really sound good, or it gets worse?

Political calamity got worse, and social media became a toxic medium, Michael consumes the blues, and all his outlet is an unhealthy solution other than cigarettes and alcohols. He tries to get through the day until the pandemic ends.

Should you wish to know the "Smoking Blues" Michael is feeling throughout the story, you have the freedom to do so.

If this could affect and may trigger something in you, then don't.

But Michael is trying his best to be good, and not just that, but also to be at least relevant at everything in life.





Reese POV






I decided that I will be Reese Remington since I have her body now. I need to hide my real name from now on. Ursula brings me the diaries that I wrote. I learned that Reese loves reading and making poems, but for me, I hate reading and poems, I do sports, and love dancing. Reese has only one friend named Wanda, and for the rest of her life, she's been bullied. The reason is, she is gay. What the? She never even tried to say this to her family? The only common about us is being gay.

I read that she had gone through enough from bullying, even Wanda tried to help her multiple times, the bullying never stops. What a weak girl! She has a beautiful face, a loving family, and a friend. I never have those in my previous life. I am alone at that time, for me she is lucky. If she just fought back against those bullies, this will never gonna happened to her.

She loves vegetables and fruits while I love greasy foods and meats especially chicken, I hate vegetables. Now I know why she's too thin. I'm not this thin when I'm 18 years old before. I also find out that she's clumsy as hell which I laughed off.

"Well? Do you remember anything?" Ursula said while she brought me my food.

I cringed while staring at those green things on the plate. "Can I have another food? I can't eat the thing." I pointed to the grassy food.

Ursula raised her right eyebrow to me. "But this is your favorite."

"Maybe but I don't want it, I want chicken creole or chicken soup." I smiled at her.

Ursula looked confused and just nodded. "Fine, mom is taking care of your papers so you can finally come back home to us. Your room is always clean, don't worry about it." She gives me a kissed on my cheeks and left the room.

I touched my cheeks, damn! If Ursula is not my sister, I'm sure I will pursue her. She has a fine ass and a sexy body. Too bad, I don't do incest.

I continue to read the diary, I frowned when I read something interesting.

"I like the future school valedictorian, Ophelia. She's so nice to everyone, one time she saved me when I'm being bullied. But I hate her boyfriend, he's a fuck boy but I always wonder why she's dating that kind of guy when she's an angel that been brought down here on earth."

I read that paragraph, Ophelia? Is that my Ophelia or they have the same name? Pfft! Of course, it is, there are a lot of people that have the same name. It's not my Ophelia at all. This girl had a crush on someone, it's nice to be young. Oh, I forgot, I'm also young again! Hahahaha.

"Is this fine?" Ursula came back with a chicken soup and a bottle of water.

I smiled widely at her and nodded. "Thank you, the nurses that bring the food here is so disgusting," I said and excitedly eat my food. Ursula watched me amusingly, I became uncomfortable with her stare. "Is there any problem with my face?" I asked.

Ursula shakes her head. "I'm just happy that you smile a lot now, before, I can hardly see your smile and you won't talk to us that much." She sadly said.

Poor Ursula, this Reese girl can't see how her family cares for her.

"Even I don't remember you, I wanted to see your smile too. You look more beautiful when you smiling." I winked at her but my eyes feel hurt when I did that. "Aww!"

Ursula laughed while blushing. "Be careful, your nerves are not fully functional since you were sleeping for one year."

"Oh, right, I forgot." I chuckled and continue to eat. Ursula keeps watching me but I didn't mind at all.

"Your eyes...it looks different." Ursula pointed me with my eyes.

"What about them?" I asked curiously, Ursula grabbed her phone. Her phone has no keypads at all. Our phone at that time has keypads.

"Oh, that's amazing," I said in amazement when she put her phone in camera mode and I see myself. "How is this working?" I asked.

Ursula frowned. "Did you forgot?"

I nodded while smiling sheepishly at her.

She smiled at me but sighed. "I guess you have a lot of things to learn again. And looked at your eyes."

I did what she said, I stared at my own eyes. The dark brown is no longer there. It's my eyes when I'm still alive. My mouth hanged open.

"See? But it's so beautiful." Ursula said while staring at my eyes intently.

"Y-Yeah..." I nervously said and drink the water.

"Baby girl!" Isabelle came into the room with a happy smile. "You can come back home anytime."

"Great! I hate the food here." I said excitedly.

They both laugh, they prepared everything before I left the hospital. I hate the smell there and especially the food. Since my muscles are still asleep, I need to use a wheelchair and practice walking again so my muscles will be functional again.

I am in awe while I'm staring at a white 3 story house, is this our house? The driver helped me to put me in my wheelchair and Ursula pushed it for me.

"This is our house, baby girl. And soon you will remember everything. The doctor said don't think much and don't stress yourself." Isabelle said to me. "You're lucky your room is on the first floor since you hate heights."

"Wow! I did?" I chuckled.

They both nodded, Ursula, pushed my wheelchair to my room. My room is so spacious and a lot of books but kinda looked depressing, I need to change the paints and arrangement.

I tried to stand-up but Ursula helped me up and held my hands to walk to the bed.

"I file a leave to my work, mom and I talked about this. I will help you to gain your strength to walk again." Ursula said.

"Thank you, my dear," I said, my eyes widen when my tongue slip. Did I sound like an old woman again?

Ursula chuckled. "You know, I love the way you show your real emotion now. I love it, mom is also happy about it. I guess being hit in the head made you like this."

I chuckled nervously and scratched the back of my neck. "I-I'm glad it's a positive outcome of my changes."

"It is." She helps me to sit on my bed.

"I think this room needs a make-over," I said while looking around.

"I'm glad you finally noticed, I always told you before to repaint your room but you always refuse," Ursula said. "I already have ideas about this, I'll show you the pictures of my ideas." She happily said.

Ursula toured me in our house so I can be used to the place...again. The driver is always helping me to be carried if we need to walk upstairs, I feel sorry for him. He looks in his mid-50's already but he is still strong. Well, I'm still strong and tough when I'm in my 50's.

I only noticed that there's no someone called my father. And there are no photos of him at the house.

"Uhm...where is father?"

Ursula paused in pushing my wheelchair, Isabelle also looked up to me while putting food on the table with the help of the two maids.

"Take a seat first, baby girl," Isabelle said, Ursula, helped me walked to the chair and take a sit.

"Your father...well, when your still a baby he left us...to someone else. I didn't tell that to you when you are not put in the hospital. I guess I needed to tell this to you, the whole truth. He was cheating behind my back, and the one who he cheats on is younger than him for 8 years. That girl is his student, when their relationship is revealed, his license for being a teacher is already blocked. He is in jail for that." Isabelle chuckled.

"Oh, wow...what a dickhead." I said, I'm glad I'm gay and I don't have a dick.

Ursula choked on her water and laughed hysterically, Isabelle looked at me with wide eyes.

"Baby girl! You never say any filthy thing from your mouth." Isabelle said in disbelief.

Oops! I need to read all of Reese's diaries.

"Mom, it's fine. I find it too funny." Ursula said through her laughter.

"It's not fine, young lady." Isabelle glared at Ursula.

Ursula shrugged her shoulders but giggled. "I'm 26 years old, mom. I'm not young anymore."

"Pfft! Your still young, my dear. You can finally say to yourself old when you became 60 years old. I felt that when I became—" I paused, I almost spill again!

"What did you just say?" Isabelle stared at me.

"I-I...Uhm...I met someone old and told me that." I said awkwardly.

The two made an "o" shape from their mouth and didn't ask anymore. I sighed in relief and just eat.

Isabelle told me that I can go back to school even I am late, they said I'm already smart and I learned fast. I'm already a senior high school and I will come back to school if I can finally walk again completely. I stop going to school when I'm in my original body when I was kicked out of our house. I'm so excited to be back at school again.

An 87 years old woman named Eunice lived into a normal life, single but have her own children. But there is one problem that always makes her heart and soul in guilt and regrets, she never fought the love that she found before. She wished if she reborn again, if she finds love again, she will do everything to gain it.

What will happen if a playful God of Youth make her wish come true without her knowledge and just woke up in a different body?

I got up the next day at 7 A.M which is totally unlike me. I usually get up midday but I guess there's a first to everything. I jumped down my bed and landed on a big medical dictionary. The one I always use as a step to get up my bed. I walked over to my nightstand to grab my notebook to decide which task I would start with. I settled on writing a poem so I grabbed my pink notebook from the same nightstand. The pink notebook is what I usually write my poems in. I started writing:

Broken Strength

I thought you would respect my wishes
So I gave you my heart
And it came back in pieces
Now I need stitches 
I need to pick up each part
I need to stitch back my heart
Glue back my love 
Glue back my trust
Glue back my faith 
And remove your face
Remove all your lies
Remove all the hate
I need to learn how to climb again
I told you I need you to be the last
In my face, you said ok
But behind my back, you laughed
I told you about my past
Thought you would cherish me unlike my last
You didn't even try to make a change
You soaked in all I said like a sponge
And did me the same wrong 
Again and again 
Thank God that I'm strong
Because if I wasn't I wouldn't be on this earth this long
Thank God that you taught me how to fight
So that every time the darkness tries to consume me I know how to put on my light
Believe me, I won't make the same mistake 
Now I know how to recognize a fake
The ones that say 
But do not do
The ones that smile 
With the evil twinkle in their eyes 
The ones that come in the prettiest design
Trust me when I say 
I'll leave that beautiful fruit overnight 
Let it rot and spoil
But all the things that you did me 
I still want to say thank you
Because now I know the real me
I have found my strength 
I have found my courage 
I have gained self-esteem 
With this pain
Now I can sing
I wasn't able to be this strong 
You didn't do me any wrong 
Instead, you put me in a place I belong
A place where queens take pain to make them strong.

You Were Wrong

I feel the coldness running down my spine
Thinking to myself why do I have to be so kind
I open up the shower so wide
I created a waterfall inside 
I cried so loud, I shout, I screamed
Wondering how I get on my knees 
I need to be healed 
I need to pray
For I have finally reached the end of my days
You hurt me so bad I don't know how to live
I'm like a tree with no leaves 
I've lost my beauty 
I'm moody and droopy 
How can you be so cruel
Happiness used to be my fuel
Now I've run out of gas 
I don't know how long I'm going to last
I was so ripe and fresh 
You liked what you see so you picked the best 
Yes, the best, the one you found suitable to peel the skin off,
Squeeze the juice out and leave the seed dry
Then you threw me to the side
Leaving me to die
But what you forgot is that seeds grow
When you thought I was no more 
And you walked out through that door
I felt dead inside 
But eventually, I tired
I left you surprised 
Because you didn't know I could fight
You didn't know I would be alright 
But I like surprising niggas like you
I showed you I could pull through
Now look me in the eye and find out who rules the world tonight boo
I bet you thought I wouldn't survive
But look at me I'm still alive.

When I was done I recorded the first poem over and over until I was satisfied with how it turned out. I made a thumbnail on the canva app then uploaded the video. What next I sit and asked myself. I stared at my note book quickly realizing how those tasks could become depressing really quick and I was already depressed as it is.

My family was getting worried because I talked about suicide a lot and to be quiet honest the only reason I haven't done it was because I wanted to be there for my little sister and grandmother. I love all the members of my family but those two was dear to me maybe because they were the only persons to actually come to me and have conversations with the right amount of laughter.

Other than that I really try, I even started to talk to a counselor but that was unsuccessful. He told me to look for the positive in a situation instead of focusing on the negative but that was hard to do. I have been trying that all my life and it rarely worked. The whole counseling session was basically him talking. I hardly did any talking and then that had me questioning all that I've studied in my psychology classes. They taught us that the patient should be the one doing the majority of the talking and make them come up with the solutions for them to attempt. The counselor is basically a guider or a helper someone you can talk to without feeling judged. Well I guess every counselor is different at least I didn't pay because it was a complete waste of money to pay for dissatisfaction.

My family always say my problem is I bundle up everything and never speak about it but I can't speak about personal things like what go through my head it just feels to weird. Plus they can't expect me to just open up like that when we never had that close relationship and most of my problems are caused by certain family members.

depressing poems novel

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Journey of 365 Days (((Kind of Completed)))

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A New One

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