1.5M ratings
277k ratings

See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna

The scary thing about life is that you’ve only got one. And the fact that it’s so easy to get caught up in the little things. Life gets so repetitive. What’s the point in the end. So much time wasted. But then there are the moments of magic. You finally meet the one, a baby is born so small, so complete, innocent. You over come a fear, get that promotion. You’re alive and it’s real. And you find you couldn’t ask for more

creative writing expression

Perfection is a flaw. It’s a facade, unobtainable, fake. Humans are the definition of imperfection. We are designed to make mistakes. Somehow we seem to have forgotten that. We where masks and tell ourselves that perfection is there we just aren’t enough. So we pretend. We pretend we’re perfect. But I’m done. I don’t want to pretend. I’m a human made of flesh, bones and I make mistakes.

creative writing expression perfection

Hopeless dream

I have this dream. I don’t know if it’ll ever come true. It’s that some day when I’m old I’ll have to explain what homophobia meant to my grandkids, because it won’t be something they’d ever encountered. That they won’t understand what I mean when I say I grew up in a sexist world. That when they open a magazine they won’t be bombarded with pictures of girls in their underwear. That they will live in a world where they don’t have to check a box: girl, boy, gay, straight, fat, skinny. Where when they read about the day same sex marriage was made legal they wrinkle their nose at the fact it ever wasn’t. That they never notice the colour of someone’s skin, because why would it matter. That their gender is what they believe it is not what they were labeled. That clothes have never belonged to a gender in their eyes. That two girls could walk down the street hand in hand without anyone batting an eye. That wars are only stories. I hope that we will be known as the generation who was crazy and messed up, I know that sounds awful but at least that means there would be change. That they will find the world we call our own ridiculous. That we will have many religions and beliefs but be one nation. But I doubt I will see this in my lifetime. It’s sad really, our world.

expression creative writing

I’m expected to know who I am. who I want to be. What I am. What I want to do now. I have no clue. I have so much time to choose. But then not enough. Somehow I’m supposed to just know. Or have this feeling or something. I don’t. I haven’t the faintest. I don’t know who I am. Aren’t I supposed to? Aren’t I supposed to just magically figure it out? Why does everyone else seem to have? Am I an abnormally?

One day you will be forgotten in the endless folds of time. Names more current and tangible, real, will rest upon yours. Some choose to leaves scars deep in the fabrics of our world, others a huge legacy. You don’t need to have your name everywhere. You just make your little light that others can hold onto and grasp to keep from drowning. Right your name in the sand, in the ocean, the hills, the sky. You where here. You did something. You meant something to someone. And you left the world, just a little bit brighter then when you got here.

writting creativity expression

We all know our first words, a simple sound so joyous and meaningful. We don’t know our last words. One day they will come. But there are so many things to say in between. We take language for granted, as we sometimes do with life. We’re creating sounds, that others can understand and our tongues weave sentences out of a gasp of air. Who knows how long until our last words. But might as well have something to say in between.