Textweets

I write what I think, I think what I am. Stories written in 280 characters or less. -:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:- ⚡️ SPICY MEXICAN FLAVOR: @CUENTIROUS 📩

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A single, paralyzing thought buoyed from the fog inside his mind: I think I’m going insane.

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Stand tall. Ha! What a load of crap. The whole world is designed to crush you down, how can anyone walk straight under the pressure?

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My grandpa used to warn me that the world would become small. Now that I’m older I understand what he meant, and how right he was.

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“Why,” she asked him, “are you wound up?”
He paused, realizing he was coiled as if ready to pounce. “I don’t know,” he said, and, exhaling, let go.

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There are no knights in shining armor, only yourself.

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Just like that, a myriad of thoughts came crashing through her brain, each frantically grasping for attention. All demeaning, degrading, she struggled just to stay afloat.

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There’s a reason people say actions speak louder than words. So show me, don’t tell me.

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I thought I was happy. Turns out I was just frenetic not to be sad.

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He didn’t have all the answers, but he knew they weren’t necessary. Sometimes, he thought, you have to trust your instincts and push through.

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On this day and age, it’s easy to turn to stone, under the guise of protecting our mental health. But we must feel, in order to care for others.

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Some things, he thought as he erased his text, are better left unsaid.

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The world needs you, the voice in his head whispered. And he knew that, as long as he heard that voice, he would be alright. He was terrified of the alternative.

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I am not broken, I whisper at the mirror. You are not broken, the mirror replies.

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She rolled her eyes. Men, she thought. If you don’t know, why not just fucking ask?

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What am I doing?

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She was stuck in limbo, stuck between the life she had and the life she longed for. She hadn’t quite reached the latter, but she didn’t fit in the former anymore. Her heart full of nostalgia, she made peace with her past self, like hugging a childhood friend for the last time.

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“New year,” he said to the mirror.
“New me,” his reflection cautiously smiled back. Not cautiously, he realized; with motivation, pushing him forward.
When he left the mirror, the smile was still on his face.

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It’s not only that I wouldn’t mind pushing my boundaries. I need to cross them. I long to go beyond the reaches of my mind, taste electromagnetic fields, see landscapes in ultraviolet and infrared, move across superluminal space.

[Textweets @textweets]

*sigh.* But who would want to listen to my endless ramblings about nothing, anyway?

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He was exhausted of picking apart and reconfiguring his brain and himself so often. If only he could rest.