Angst Writer - Tumblr Posts

Glossed Over Eyes & Flat-lined Lips

Today was the same as yesterday, and the day before and the day before, every day since I moved to this city has been the same.

“That’ll be 30.42,” the cashier’s voice echoed around me. I dug into my purse, tugging out my raggedy patent leather wallet. It was nearly disintegrated, but it worked, I guess. I handed the droopy-eyed teenager, standing behind the register, a couple of bills. Once I received my change, I was on my way, groceries in tow. The bags pulled my arms down, but I didn’t mind, I guess. I felt comforted knowing that something was keeping me anchored down to Earth.

The commute on the subway back to my apartment was noisy and long. I fought back the insatiable urge to claw my face off.

As I walked up the steps to my apartment building, I looked out onto the horizon. It was a wonderful day. A gentle breeze, birds chirping, and the sun high in the sky. I breathed it in for a moment. Days like these were one of the only things I had nowadays.

Fiddling the keys out of my pocket, I unlocked my door. A depressing sight welcomed me. Compared to the weather, my apartment was pathetic, at best. Dust and grime and stupid, old furniture left by the previous tenant. It was everything I hated. Even the air smelled musty. Disgusting. How could someone like me live in a place like this? I’ve fallen so far from my lofty throne.

All I could do was sleep. I threw my item-filled plastic bags down on the counter and fell over onto the couch. Bits of dust soared up into the air and then back down. I do this often nowadays. It was one of my only sources of comfort. I felt my eyes going blurry, my mind going blank, and my body sinking into the sofa. I felt encapsulated by the warmth of my little bubble.

In my dreams, I could be anything. I didn’t have to be the failure I was, living in a glorified cardboard box, working a part-time job I hated while studying a major I couldn’t care less about. Sleeping was best for me now. It was the only time I could get a break from everything. The noisy transit, the bright-eyed tourists, everything—all of it, all at once, all gone.

Word count: 391

(Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this little dollop of my writing. I'll try to post a continuation tomorrow!)

The Art of Almost

The following morning, my eyes fluttered open as I awoke. Once I took in my surroundings, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, stretched my unmoved limbs, and felt drowsiness seep into my bones. It took far too long for me to realize that I had slept past my alarm.

I glanced down at my phone. It was 11:15 a.m. Only 45 minutes remained until my shift began, and the subway commute, alone, took half an hour.

I leapt up, stumbling over to my cramped bathroom. In the mirror, a strange face reflected at me: uneven blond bangs, dark bags under her eyes, and a frown plastered on her face. The one staring at me was beautiful, there was no doubt, but how long would that last? I contemplated for many moments before coming back to reality. I needed to get to work.

In a couple of minutes, I threw myself out of the door, almost breaking my ankle from running down the stairs. Once I arrived at the station, I was heaving. I called my boss and had undergone a lecture, so all I had to do was show up. It was the last thing I ever wanted to spend my time doing. It was no intention of mine to be working a dead-end job in a dead-end neighborhood, living in a dead-end apartment. Something like this was a last-ditch effort for someone like me.

With every second that passed, my feelings of dread grew. My job wasn’t bad per se, but I despised it with every fiber of my being. It was better than living as a non-contributor to society. At least, that’s what I told myself. Doing something was better than not. Complaining over things I cannot change will only cause me to be more miserable, too. I should stop that.

Word count: 305

(Author's Note: This chick is kind of pissing me off, even though I'm the one who wrote her. What does that say about me?)

Hurry Up, Winter's Coming

My hours spent working dragged on. Dealing with customers, cleaning tables, and enduring backhanded remarks from my boss. It was the usual. Like any other day, nothing memorable had transpired.

After what had felt like an eternity, I finally finished my shift. A cool breeze blew, causing hair to get in my eyes and goosebumps to appear on my arms. It felt like a slap to the face. It was almost as if the universe were mocking me. With each day that passed, the weather grew colder and harsher, and I hated it more than ever then.

As I strolled along the sidewalk and down a set of stairs, I reached the subway station. I thought it to be as dingy as expected from a terminal. The air was damp and reeked of cigarettes and mold. Miserable groups of people lined the walls, begging for money. I almost felt apologetic until I remembered I was narrowly above the poverty line myself.

Several minutes passed before the doors of a subway train glided open. Dozens of people piled in, and I was among them, pushing my way in for a spot. However, I stood holding a metal pole for the entirety of my ride. I was never quick enough.

I briskly strode a couple of blocks. I arrived at a large building with people surrounding it. Well-landscaped bushes bordered the walls of the building, built on a firm foundation of red bricks. There were countless columns and statuses around the school. It was a prestigious college, and only a thousand wealthy and influential students were admitted yearly. I had been fortunate enough to get a scholarship because of my past.

It was clear to everyone I was an outcast. My status was evident in how my tattered clothes draped over my body and my manner of speaking and eating. I wished I turned out differently, but there was no going back to fix my life. All I could do was accept my current position and work to rebuild something for myself. Maybe, one day, I could do what I love again.

Word Count: 350

(Author's Note: I SWEAR I'M GETTING TO THE ACTUAL STORY PART, PLEASE BEAR WITH ME!!! WAIT FOR LIKE THE NEXT TWO PARTS AND IT'LL START TO PICK UP THE PACE)

about me !!

hey there ;)

i'm marion, and i post about writing-related things because this is literally a writing blog (?? big shocker, i know).

i'm 14.

hobbies: musical theater, listening to music, writing, sewing, fashion-related anything, reading, cleaning, and drawing.

favorite books: jane eyre, the virgin suicides, & the perks of being a wallflower

favorite artists: beabadoobee, laufey, faye webster, clairo, chappell roan, wave to earth, riize, newjeans, kiss of life, twice, txt, just to name a few ...

i'd love if you asked me questions, i'll answer literally anything writing related! also feel free to send me your writing, i'd be honored to read it.

there's not much else i have to say. i'm an intj. i really like shoujo anime/mangas and webcomics (I'M AWARE OF MY LOSER STATUS, SHUT UP PLSSS). i write a lot of sad stuff because it's fun idk.

Oh god wrote Jun angst for the first time and idk how was it, but I hope it's worth reading. I wrote on shot almost after one or two month 😭😭😭😭😭

nihyun’s navi

Nihyun | she/her | 22

masterlist | about me

“Not everyone can like you, you’ll have a person that you’ll hate and there would be someone who will hate you for no reason, if that’s the case, it’s not something you can change. Accept it and live confidently” ~ Choi Seungcheol

I am more of an angst writer than of a fluff

Requests are closed for now but inspiration is always welcomed

I’m still a student so I don’t post my work very frequently yet I try

I write on wattpad as well

me with megumi fushiguro

Me: I adore this character. They are my favourite lil dude ever and I would defend them with my life.

Also me: *writes fics in which the same character goes through some of the most heart-wrenching traumatising ordeals I can think of*