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@katesbookofstuff
Sheās a virgin Plastic foil on a box of tea Which gets torn by a man loosing purity.
Sheās a virgin Cardboard box standing at his door Then it serves its function and it is no more.
ā āVirgināĀ | k.w. Kateās Book Of Stuff
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Struggling to put words on paper I forget to breathe.
10 Word Story #3 | k.w. Kateās Book Of Stuff
Depression is sitting in your room, locked up, finally alone.
Loneliness more bearable now that you're not surrounded by your friends who no longer recognize you.
Depression is trying to paint the coulds so they are not grey and white any more.
Depression is frantically trying to paint the clouds back gray when you start to see them black on the horizon.
Depression is wanting to fight against... Against what?
Depression is fighting against something you no longer remember.
Depression is not fighting anymore.
Depression is not asking for help because you were raised to be strong. You were raised to be a woman. A woman, it sounds proud. A woman is not weak. A woman can take care of herself. A woman. does not. need. help.
A woman will die afraid of asking for help.
Depression is not knowing how to answer when asked 'What is wrong?'
Depression is feeling weight on your shoulders, the weight of a monster, the monster tumbling down. The monster is the world. Society. School. Family... You.
Depression is not knowing where it all started. Depression is not knowing when.
Depression is skipping meals. You ate enough.
Last week.
Depression is looking in the mirror... and pulling... and pinching, scratching, cursing, crying.
Depression is black skinny jeans in the summer. T-shirts and hoodies three sizes too big, hanging off a slouched frame, covering thighs.
Depression is wishing you could die without consequences.
Depression is searching the Internet for motivation titled:
'Reasons To Stay Alive'.
Depression is not sadness.
Depression is fear. Emptiness.
Depression is not romantic.
Depression is hollow. Indifferent.
Depression is not late-night phone calls to your best friend after He broke up with you.
Depression is not crying over a failed exam.
Depression is dying every morning before going outsideā numb, only to be resurected at night in the faint glow of the moon, who seems like the perfect company to your anxious torment.
Depression is an illness. Depression needs treatment.
Depression rarely gets treatment.
ā Explaining My Depression To Everyone Who Still Doesn't Understand (May 2015)Ā | k.w. Kateās Book of Stuff
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about what do I write about what do Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about what do I write about what do I write Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write aboutĀ what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what to I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write about Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I writeĀ Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what do I write
- Procrastination | k.w. Kateās Book of Stuff
Writing used to feel so natural to me.
Now it is nothing but nerve-racking. Constant questions in my mind whether itās any good, any special. How can I improve it? I cannot, can I? Thereās nothing I can do to make it great. To reach the level others have reached.Ā
I spend my days reminiscing on the past, how it felt so liberating to write whatever the heck I wanted to. Why canāt I do that anymore? Of course I can, but for some reason it feels like this priviledge has been somehow taken away from me.
Iāve been trying to work on that. On making myself feel like I have the right to write. To create. And to create things that may not be what I want them to be. But I have to start somewhere.
And this is exactly what Iām doing right now. Iām starting. Once again. And probably not for the last time. Not yet. But thatās OK.
- Something That Had to be Written a Long Time Ago | k.w. Kateās Book of Stuff
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The first time we met was unexpected. Our lives filled with mental issues and family problems. 21st century Europe with days too short and nights bursting with longing. Wage gaps, gender roles, rape culture, white priviledge and a battle for equality. That was the first time we met. The first time we fell in love. And neither of us were searching for it.
The Times We MetĀ | k.w. Kateās Book Of Stuff
Sometimes I cry because life is hard and music tends to be too adequate.
Tales Of People Who Feel Too Much #1Ā | k.w. Kateās Book Of Stuff
They all seem to be growing up in the same way. Drinking, partying, friends and laughter. And I'm just left here, walking in a whole different direction. On my own.
Thoughts I Dream At Night #9Ā | k.w. Kateās Book Of Stuff
You are not the only one touched by a tragedy.
10 Word StoryĀ #2 | k.w. Kateās Book Of Stuff
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As she fluttered her eyelashes the fairy dust fell under her eyes magically turning into golden freckles scattered all over her cheekbones.
ā Fairy Tale Queen |Ā k.w. Kateās Book Of Stuff
His price for breaking our friendship was a bottle of wine. Mineā aĀ neverending childhood.
A Tale Of Two People |Ā k.w. Kateās Book Of Stuff
Thereās this certain kind of wine that tastes like getting drunk. Itās my favourite type but when I drink it all I can taste are late night walks on New Yearās Eve, all-night-long parties at my best friendās house while her parents are away, and my 18th birthday. House packed with people. Music. Darkness. Sweat, laughter and love. I got used to the idea that getting drunk feels like warmth and light and happiness and stars. Itās so hard to get drunk on sadness now. Itās hard to make wine taste like regret when all you can feel on your tongue are the only memories you donāt want to erase.
I Always Knew Iād End Up Like Bridget Jones |Ā k.w. Kateās Book Of Stuff
Iām sorry.
Iām sorry for not becoming a singer.Ā Iām sorry for being too scared to try.
Iām sorry for not becoming a writer. Iām sorry for being too inconsistent to make it.
Iām sorry for not becoming a princess because I thought it would make me look too weak, too fragile. Iām sorry for being too afraid of getting hurt.Ā
Iām sorry for not becoming a girlfriend.Ā Iām sorry for always taking too long.
Iām sorry for not becoming a wife. Iām sorry for always saying nothing else but ānoā.
And most of all Iām sorry for not becoming a mother.Ā Iām sorry for being too damn selfish.Ā
-Ā āHow Do We Forgive Ourselves For All The Things We Did Not Become?āĀ | k.w. Kateās Book Of Stuff
Lately Iāve been wondering, how does being in love feel like. Because Iāve always thought that when I feel it, Iāll know. But Iām not so sure anymore. Because it never feels close enough to being in love. Maybe I donāt know what being in love is supposed to feel like. Maybe Iāve already been in love and Iāve simply missed it. Or maybe I havenāt. But it still makes me afraid that if I ever fall in love, I wonāt notice it. Iām afraid that I will miss my chance.Ā -Ā Thoughts I Dream At Night #8Ā | k.w. Kateās Book Of Stuff
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There will be nights when you start to question everything you've ever known. There will be days when you try so hard but everything still always goes wrong.Ā There will be times when your wellbeing collides with theirs.
This will lead you to the realisation that maybe not everyone is supposed to be friends. That friendships work just like relationships do. That in some cases two people simply damage each other more than they benefit from said friendship.Ā And some nights, some days, some times you won't be able to understand it. And surely you won't be able to accept it either.Ā
-Ā Thoughts I Dream At Night #7Ā | k.w. Kateās Book Of Stuff
Don't ever laugh when someone tells you about their problems. You may never hear from them again when they decide you are not worthy of listening. Or when they decide they are not worthy of being heard.
Thoughts I Dream At Night #6 | k.w. Kate's Book Of Stuff