ppikachu-deactivated20111002 asked: Aw, this was such a pleasure to read. :c I give this blog a 10!

I give YOU a 10.

stillmarredwithink asked: must you really?

We’re bummed about it too. But it’s what’s best for us.

pressuredtiger-deactivated20111 asked: Thanks for giving us some encouragement and useful advices... it is a shame to say goodbye to a great idea.

Thank you kindly. We hope that others will do what we have done on their own blogs, possibly. It was fun while it lasted.

So mine is going to be just a copy of his pretty much.

I love this blog. I truly do. But life is hectic, life is busy, life is life. High school is a fun place, but it’s very busy to nerds like us as well. There’s so much we have to do to make sure we can do the best we can at high school while also enjoying the high school experience. Because of this, we barely even have time for good content on our regular blogs, much less this one.

I think we had a great idea in this blog. I truly hoped we helped y’all and that no one took anything offensively. Through the positive feedback we received on this short-lived blog, I know that I was better able to feel confident in that I was doing something good for people. We thank you for your tremendous support, for your kick-ass words, and the nice porn links you sent us.

I’m only kidding about one of those things.

Really, though. Thank you. It was great.

-W

Dear followers,

When me and W first created this blog, we were very excited. The reader feedback was tremendous and people were very open-minded about it. We thank each and every one of you for taking an interest, submitting work, and starting dialogue. Me and W started this blog when we both were capable of keeping up with the mass amount of writing on this website, and sadly both of our lives have gotten extremely busy and this blog has become more of a burden than it is fun anymore.

I know that it was short-lived, but we two are just not able to stay ahead of the game. We will continue to critique and read everyone’s words from our respective blogs, but we simply do not have the time to continue this one. So, thank you all for your positive reactions and inspiration. I also thank all the beautiful writers on this site for sharing your words with the internet for people to become inspired by. We are very pleased with the massive amount of talent we have come across along the way.

Thank you all very much. I give Tumblr a 10.

-R

jayarrarr:

Either you want it or you don’t. This is not a judgement call, nor is it a call-to-arms, it’s just an observation, and you can think of it whatever you want. You’re not a writer. You’re a human being who writes words onto paper or types them onto screen. That’s it. You want to be a writer, or you don’t. Some of you don’t. Some of you just do this for release. And that’s beautiful, and your words are beautiful. But some of you do it because you must, because this is your life’s passion, because the world just doesn’t feel real unless and until you’ve written it. Because all you wanna do is write, all day, every day, and still have a roof over your head and food in your belly and nourishment in your soul in whatever stripe you seek nourishment and love and life: and this is for you.

This is for you if you bleed ink. This is for you if thoughts burn. This is for you if you’ve ever pulled off the side of the road to capture a nascent idea somehow before it becomes still-born and silent. This is for you if you write because there’s nothing else you’re confident you can do. This is for you if you’re reading this and you think it’s for you. This is for you if you post a piece and constant refresh to watch the stream (or not) of hearts and replies. This is for you if you actually give a shit who reads and lets you know it.

You may post shit you ain’t crazy about. Shit you wanna delete as soon as it’s up. Folk might like it, hang on. You can look at your own work but please know that despite your bias one way or the other your opinion is but one among many others, and it will only ever be one, sole and solitary, a single opinion, one. I cannot stress that enough. Once something’s released, it’s no longer yours, a fact I’m telling myself as much as I’m telling you. It’s not yours, you can no longer hold onto it and get possessive or angry or jealous. Put it out there, it’s theirs. To do with as they will.

Tell your readers thank you, tell them you care. I don’t do this, really, but I’m telling you to do it, because I’m hypocritical like that. But at least at first, you should. You should thank every single motherfucker who finds your shit worthy of a reblog, and you should ask them what they liked, and you should ask them why they cared, and then you should internalize and capitalize on that knowledge.

But who am I, and what am I saying? I don’t do any of this shit, but I know that I should have, so I’m telling you, now, to do so. To learn from my mistakes. If you wanna be a writer, you should care. You should care if people like what you write, and you shouldn’t be ashamed of that, and you shouldn’t shrug it off.

So full-stop, period, point-blank: if you write, you write to share. You write that someone might someday relate and understand and believe and feel. You write to be read. That. Five words to say what five hundred already did. Hemingway would be rolling in his grave, but I don’t aspire to be Hemingway. I only aspire for someone else, forty years from now, to say the same thing about me.

Ok, I like the vocabulary. But that’s about it.

No one cares. Really. Just stop writing about writing. It’s ridiculous and pointless. You shouldn’t need to make cookie-cutter writers. Just fucking write and get over it. Why you write is NOT important.

This was my first and only rude comment.

-R

Since starting this blog, both of us have become very busy. We will post on here whenever we can, but it sometimes just adds onto the current stress. If there is a piece you would like us to look at, continue submitting them and we will post them when we can. Thank you for sticking with us.

submitted by butter-flies-fly-away

“I saw no use in letting blood stain my wrists. A silence like no other, I stood under the autumn moon, stark white, darkness wrapping me like a thin ragged thing of a blanket. When would the first leaf fall? I waited expectantly by your tree, waiting and waiting for a crisp red leaf to fall in my hands. I’d cup the fragile leaf and send a leaf back, crushing it in my hands and blowing my love to you into the wind, hoping that the seeds might scatter somewhere and amount to something. The seasons came and went. It took me too long to realize you were evergreen. I shed all my leaves for you and here I am now, shivering naked branches.”

This is a very strong piece. It is beautifully elegant, and heartbreaking. It made me want to cry. Seriously.

It talks about a girl that shared so much and gave so much to this one person but soon found out that this person wasn’t willing to give the same. She was left so vulnerable because of this. She really wanted something to happen, in reference to the seeds, like a growth in love and a relationship. But it never happened and she was left with nothing else to offer.

It was beautiful. I have nothing else to say. It was pretty much perfect.

10

-R

People used to call me smart
and while that’s nice
I didn’t want to just be
known as smart.
In middle school I was known
as the quiet girl
but I didn’t like that either
so I became loud.
For most of sixth grade
I went by Bertha,
I know, it’s a long story,
but even then people only knew
my nickname.
I have a big extended family
and when they sign cards 
it always says: To Kirk, Amy and the girls.
My parents sign cards the same way.
People used to ask me
what I wanted to be
but apparently “a good person”
isn’t a proper answer after kindergarden.
My answer changed each hour
and when I finally settled on forensics
they would tell me “you know CSI’s not real right?”
Neither’s your hair color.
I know it’s hard to imagine
but there’s more to me
than just this poem. 

————————————-

I like this style. I would have broke it up into different stanzas, I think, though.

I feel like this whole poem gives me a nice little snippet into her life. You also get the right amount of who she is as a person. It included the right amount of history without getting too specific, and even has some humor (“Neither’s your hair color” made me laugh).

There really isn’t much to interpret from this poem. It’s pretty much a poem about herself as far as I can tell. It doesn’t really draw any certain emotion from me, though. It’s able to keep my attention and, for the most part, I would say it’s well written. I just don’t feel any strength to it, really.

Does that make sense? I mean, yeah, I like it. But I don’t like it as in “wow that was an incredibly deep and emotional poem.” I like it as in “hm, wow, that was pretty nice and it kept me entertained. I think I wanna meet this chick!”

-W

getmorebooks:

A telltale heart - susurrous as the Bodleian reading room - 

Would lie to keep a man home from war

And then blame him for living, and brood

On his timid yellow paunch, his gape,

His gait and bow-backed acquiescence,

A telltale heart will, selflessly, make the baby hate him,

And laugh each time he stubs his toe. 

It is poetry like this that makes me happy when I search through the poetry tag.

The telltale heart. Ah, I love that story. For those of you who don’t know, it is a story by Edgar Allan Poe. I suggest you read it.

Instead of going really in depth with this one, I will probably keep it a little short. Not because it doesn’t deserve a long interpretation. It’s just that my own personal interpretation doesn’t require that much explaining if you’ve read the story.

I feel like this poem is talking about that little nagging voice in your head that never shuts up. Just like those little whispers in a library, (“susurrous as the Bodleian reading room”) it’s always pestering you when you wish it wouldn’t.

And it is this nagging voice that keeps you from doing what you want or makes you do what you want or makes you feel so shitty. Yeah, all that.

This voice thinks it’s funny to play games with you. This voice loves to drive you insane. And, like the tell-tale heart, it comes from within yourself; not from others.

This poem is magnificent.

-W