Apple

Here's a drawing under 5 min that I did on my phone. Didn't have time to draw a proper one. But something is better than nothing.

Gaming: Relaxation

2024/12/05 [Day 3]

The only excuse I have for myself for having this later than I initially promised myself to have it (its literally only been 3 days and already streak broken sort of!) is because a game that I have been really excited about was released today. 

Infinity Nikki is basically a dress up game that’s really cozy where you collect things to make clothes and its cute and there’s a lot of things to do and well, I am enjoying myself immensely thank you for asking. 

I like playing games, especially games with storylines or pretty visuals. (Pretty visuals are very very satisfying.) If you really think about it, games are just another way to tell stories, similar to reading a book or watching a movie in many ways. You sick in time to a medium, absorb the words that they throw at you and know a new character, feel another emotion, marvel at this other world that is placed before you. 

I don’t really know a lot of people around me who plays the games I do, and its a bit sad sometimes when I can’t really express how excited I am for these new games. Either the response they give just shows that they don’t really get it, or I just don’t want to come off as too strong about whatever it is I am excited about. Which is why I like reaction videos actually, seeing someone else being excited about the same thing I am is weirdly comforting. 

Writing 

2024/12/04 [Day 2]

Stories have fascinated me since I was young, but writing was something that I hated, probably because of the reason why I was asked to write. School essays suck. 

And yet, I’ve always loved stories. Listening to those children audio books at night and reading fantasy in the morning when I was a kid is really quite nostalgic now that I think about it. I don’t think I really understood at that point that the words I was being forced to write could become something akin to the words in storybooks. 

I only started to like writing when I was 10, and my English teacher gave everyone in class a cute little notebook and would give us a topic and 5 minutes at the start of each English lesson to write about that topic. Anything at all. 

That was the first time that I felt that words could be mine. 

It’s a feeling I think I’ve since tried to cling onto. I journaled for a bit between 14-16, and it was during the pandemic that I really started writing stories a bit more, but... it still feels like I have a lot of things to say. A lot of things that I still don't know how to say.  

Goals

2024/12/03 [Day 1]

There comes a time every year where I sit down at my desk and have the itch to write something. This particular time more often than not tends to come at a a time where I should in fact not be writing and be doing something else instead (exam), and then when I actually have time to write… I don’t. 

Incredibly baffling, I know, but this is basically a yearly occurrence at this point. 

Which is why I’m setting a goal today. For tomorrow and perhaps at least a month? There’s so many things to do in this life, like gaming, reading, writing, drawing… or maybe I just have too many hobbies. I have no expectations right now, but it would be cute to have something to look back upon. 

So! The goal – one short musing / prose / story like this, and one picture (of Kirby, he? her? it? Is easy-ish to draw.) everyday to… build habit I guess? 

More thoughts from me, written using a person that I call 'her'. Feel free to imagine 'her' as anyone you like. For me though, 'Her' is the ache inside of me I think, because I am okay, but not all of me is.

And trigger warning, the slightest, tiniest, you have to infer it to see it, implications of suicide/suicidal thoughts. Stay safe!

Thanks for reading! ~ Apple

------- 1

Sometimes, she wished that time would stop.

Only then, would the world grow silent.

Only then, would the cars stop moving, the light stop flickering. The Humans all around her would stop breathing, hearts stop beating, because for that moment, everything was still.

Like a movie screen.

Maybe the world paused multiple times a day, a million times a year. She would not know, because she was a part of this world, wasn't she? If they stopped, so would she.

(She didn't want to belong in this world)

------- 2

Time doesn't really stop when you lock yourself in your room and close your eyes.

If you listen close enough, you can hear the sounds of a city just outside the window. You can hear the whispers of the wind. You can hear the pitter patter of raindrops against the window.

These are all signs that life is still moving onwards and onwards and onwards. Slowly. Quietly. Excruciatingly.

Maybe one day you'll fall so far behind.

-------- 3

Sometimes, she wants time to stop.

Only then, the world would grow silent. And she would be the only one to see it.

The way a bird stretches its wings before it takes flight. The way a bottle topples and the liquid half falls out but does not really touch the group. The way every human being on Earth just... stops, and she is the only one breathing, heart beating.

But the world does not work that way.

The only way to fall out of sync with the world, the only way to fall out of sync with time...

She closes her eyes, feeling the breath of the wind on her face, hearing the sounds of cars and birds and screams of people. She doesn't want to see the city below her feet, not anymore.

Just some random words from random thoughts, not necessarily thoughts that are about me, but they did appear in my head so they are mine.

Warnings: 4th 'part' (not sure what else to call it) implies suicide so skip it if you need to.

All parts are independent of each other. The 'she' mentioned is just a character as whoever you want to imagine. They can be the same person, or different.

~Apple

------------ 1

Tears fall, and a voice, her voice, lets out a strangled scream. She staggers forward, hands wrapped around her throat, trying to pry away the choked feeling she felt. And yet... the feeling was getting tighter and tighter, so why was her hands only scratching against bare skin?

------------- 2

She sits alone atop the table, legs swinging forward and back, forward and back.

From here, she could see everything. (A faint smile creeps onto her face)

------------- 3

Words she had never said, could not say, fell from her mouth like a never-ending current. There was nothing she could do to stop it, and the others were only just staring and staring and staring.

Their faces haunted her memory, even as her chest lightened.

------------- 4

Her eyes were filled with tears and her ears could only hear the pounding of her heart. She inhaled sharply as a hiccup caused her whole body to shudder, the taste and smell of salt filling her mouth, her nose.

Chiling cold fills her as the first bare foot touches ocean waves. And the next. And the next.

A large wave crashes into her and she falls, but all she knows is the smell of salt water.

------------- 5

The volume of the song was incredibly soft, the words indistinguishable though the emotion was clear in the singer's voice. And as the climax was reached, the volume rose ever so steadily. Emotions once clear were now overwhelming; Words once indistinguishable were now heard, but the weight behind them so heavy it would take a long while before they were truly heard.

Then the song quietened, leaving behind the silence, the emptiness of a study room.

There's no one here.

------------- 6

She listens to the sounds of the cars on the road and the birds in the trees. She listens to howling wind and the pitter patter of rain. She too, listens to conversations and laughter and screams.