Sara Stobe Writes

Whispers of Colour I hold my burning face. She just hit me because I forgot to empty the dishwasher. She says she hates me, that I’m the worst thing that ever happened to her, that she wishes I had never been born, because I’m a disappointment, “just like my father”. Whatever that means, because I barely remember him. I’m not allowed to be in touch with him. She doesn’t want that. She says it’s about loyalty. I sit on my bed, hugging my knees. I ache for love so much it burns in my chest. My heart feels like it’s falling apart, dying inside in slow motion. I can’t remember the last time someone hugged me. My mother has rejected me so many times that I stopped trying. I don’t know how to be a better daughter. All I know is this: I can’t stay here. If I do, I’ll lose my mind. I have to save myself. Some people are aware of the situation between my mother and me. They tell me they’re sorry, but none of them ever tries to help. Her physical abuse is less severe than her mental ...

  Hello, you lovely person! I just came up with a creative and challenging idea for my blog to get me writing, and I have to share it already with you, even though I haven't written down one single word....besides all of the words I'm writing down right now.  I will ask each of my family members to give me ONE word, and I'll turn all of them into a short story. There are five people, meaning I will have five words to get my creative brain cells working overtime, making up anything.  That way, I won't feel under pressure, which naturally saves me from the darkness of procrastination city. IYKYK I might turn it into a regular series on my blog.  Maybe I could even inspire you to turn it into a drinking game....if there isn't already one like that, but I wouldn't know, would I? 😁 Of course, I've already pitched my idea to my best supporters here, and the words are fixed. You might wanna know those now and judge my writing later....so here they are:...