I crave the warmth against me.
I crave normality.
I crave the release of pressure.
I crave to be me.
Don't sit around and wait for life to happen.
Free to be me.
Free to see what I see.
Free to say what I say.
Free to do what I do.
Free to feel what I feel.
I'm free as can be.
I see the world like a project to change;
Idealist too much, maybe.
But that's okay.
Everything is strange;
Everything I feel is strange outragement.
To reject the norms of even secularness,
To analyze life rather than live it;
To have a brain of facts
That override the memories
Everything I feel is numb.
I try to explore mirth;
Sometimes I fail.
Sometimes I want to cry
But no tears fall.
Sometimes there's pain,
but it goes away.
Sometimes I'm on top of the world;
then, I'm in the pit of lonely darkness.
Do I feel?
Do I feel emotions?
Do I feel like a human?
Do I feel like anything?
You're doing fine.
Go with life;
Don't worry about strife.
Difference should be the norm;
But it isn't,
So find the pride in yourself
That's how I feel.
The blindness to the butterflies
That tell you to run.
The blindness to the faults and facts
That say it's not a match.
The pink memories of a calm togetherness;
then, burned by dark revelations.
Dark revelations to white words.
The epitome of youth,
The epitome of probability,
The epitome of reflection.
You set me free
When you unshackled the chains
That unleashed my passion
To know that first love
Is young love.
Something calm is also chaos.
She’s oblivious to the world.
Something sweet is also sour.
She wishes to rule with her iron fist.
And something intelligent is also dumb.
A world where everything is a grey area.
Everything is a pang of panic; a surge of wonder.
‘Yes? No?’ rings though the rapid pound of the drums.
But, in the end, it’s a swelling urge of solitude.
She’s an aria of wit and opinion without consequence.
Her ballad races the Tour de France without break.
She sways to the symphony of violins, lifting her into the clouds
until the orchestra breaks to the swelling of a
heaving bass, rising and falling
And she wakes up.
Who am I?
This is not necessary, but this can help you if you’re someone who is a planner.
Reason for Name:
Birthday: (Day, Month, Year)
Reason for choosing this date:
Siblings (if any):
Significant other(s) (if any):
Children (if any):
Hair: (Color, Length Type, Texture)
Eyes: (Shape, Color)
Face: (Shape, Appearance)
Body: (Type, Appearance)
Clothes: (Type, Details)
Introvert or Extrovert:
Personality Type from 16Personalities:
For appearance details, I suggest mapping out ways you can describe them.
What starts with M and ends with a Y?
You get lost
You pay the cost
Stars will lose their glow,
For there is nothing left to show,
But if we give them reason to shine,
Maybe everything will turn out fine.
We must crave the dark
So that we find ourselves
And return to the light.
Life is a series of complex stitches
In blanket of patchwork
Each there for a reason.
There is a purpose, I suppose,
For this life:
Like everyone else,
Have my own agenda;
Like everyone else,
Turn a blind eye
To those in need of help,
Who am I?
I'm too human ...
Like everyone else.
As writers, and as we get older in general, description is vital in what we write. Pay attention to detail, they always say. As we age, people expect our attention to specificities to get better and better.
Take this for example:
She had short, curly brown hair. Her eyes were blue.
While it’s okay to be basic, this is a mistake on a few levels:
- The details should be spread out amongst the course of the novel, not told immediately.
- There’s no direct focus other than the character.
Also, what age does the narrator sound like?
(Please, comment your answer below)
When writing, take into account the age, intelligence, and personality of the narrator. Even if it’s in third-person, the narrator should mimic the personality of your focal character.
Now, take this description:
She bounced into her apartment, crystal irises buzzing with the energy surging through her brain. Her perky curls danced on her shoulders as she plopped in front of the blue glow of her computer screen.
Now, I’m not saying this is ideal. In fact, this is flowery. A lot of metaphors. But I did try to put “her” appearance into action. I also didn’t use simple sentences.
So, in the end, make sure you put the details to action.