Tired Of Living In Fiction Novels & Stories

Just something. I need something to do because I'm extremely tired of having to read books every time a new day rolls around. I'm tired of this fucking cycle where I wake up with guilt and heartbreak in my chest, cry a little, eat a lot, read for some time, then go back to sleep and wake up the next morning just to repeat the previous day's exhausting routine. Gosh, I don't even have a phone—he still has mine confiscated. I know nothing about what's happening in the online world, and it's slowly killing me.

I was once again forced to speak to the man who broke my heart into a million pieces… I stopped writing and frowned at my words. I shook my head and deleted it. I don’t want to write yet another post about Brian. I thought about something Joseph had said on the first day of class and I started to grow inspired. Trying again I wrote: What is fiction? What defines fiction? Does it count as fiction if you’ve never seen something? Just because you’ve never seen a unicorn, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It just means you’ve never seen it. The idea that there could be otherworldly creatures living amongst us is crazy to me because it’s always seemed like such fiction. But as I grow older, and I ex

"So that is why! This world is very different. In this world, everyone lived happily. Everyone smiled and lived normally." "Is this true? What am I? A fiction? Ha ha ha! Yes. I know. I am fiction. And I saw it with my own two eyes. Leah right? Before she went that day. Three months ago when she was hit by a girl. I saw her. Yes. I saw you. Leah. You were knocked by. I am not talking to you as Sherry by to her own soul. You see. I always had this thought. Why she always kept looking at me. Cried over me. Am I dead for which I am not? Yes. I knew how. How I knew I was a fiction. That time when she took by someone I saw a book. I read it. And that's how. See? Ha ha ha! Fuck heavens!" He paused

Broke reader, right you could say that. They're my inspiration, motivation and also distraction. I'm an orphan with no one to take care of me, I wasn't that confident in myself. “ Today's red moon. Did you hear that our wishes will come true if we make a wish?” I heard some of my colleagues squealing happily and I just rolled my eyes. Nonsense. Who would believe those kind of words these days? How stupid. I shook my head to get rid of those silly thoughts of my fellow colleagues. Wishes come true? What a bullshit!

It hurts so bad that all those fucking fairytales we read when we were children, all those movies and happy ever afters never come true. They never do, and the people, the writers who sell us that bullshit, they are the real criminals, they are the real villans. They kill each and every soul on this planet by lying to us after making us hope, hope like fucking idiots that one day, all will be perfect and there won't be a single thing wrong with our lives. I wipe my mouth and flush the toilet, and rinse my mouth with water in the wash basin. Groaning at the sight of vomit in the living room, I reach for my phone next to it to check what the buzzing was about.

My face suddenly brightened when I tasted them. "These are so good," I said, and he just smiled. "Auggie, where are your parents?" "They are abroad. Sometimes, it is very lonely that I am all alone here." I suddenly recalled what happened last night. I thought I was going to die. I thought God already granted my wish of living in The Yarn. I call it that way because my fictitious world is like tangled yarn. You have to untangle everything just to discover what has been hidden. You are probably thinking that why I prefer to live in fiction. Unlike reality, you could create your own plot. It is like writing a story. You have to think about the sequence of events for you to create a story that

I WROTE THIS BUT NO ONE LIKED IT SO I DECIDED TO NOT MAKE THIS AS AN ENDING AND CONTINUE WITH THE BOOK SO YALL READ THE NEXT CHAPTERS AND NOT LEAVE! I'm sorry for the disappointing ending but I just wanted to put that as an ending as this has happened to me way too many times. The feeling of comfort I get while day dreaming or reading but once it's over I realise it was never real and never will be. I HOPE YA'LL FORGIVE ME

“In real life your problems are rarely resolved, you don’t get closure on the situations or relationships that have most impact on your life. Your father never explains why he didn’t say how proud you made him. Your ex-wife never apologies for cheating on you repeatedly. Bad people aren’t punished for their crimes and good people go unrewarded for their virtue. We look to stories to give us the closure and the resolution we so desperately crave, so we can deal with our problems and move on in a way that real life doesn’t allow.” “But it’s the lack of an ending that kept this story alive, you just said so.” “But not in a healthy way, not because it’s told and retold. This story exists as an a

I exhale and rub the back of my neck, agitated. “No, it’s not just that, Sophie. I thought we could get back what we once had but we can’t because I realised that what I want has changed. I’ve changed. All the yacht parties, and you and all your fake socialite friends pretending to like one another, when secretly you’re competing with one another. Who has the best clothing line, who will get married first, who has a bigger engagement ring? It’s shallow and materialistic bullshit, and I’m over it. I want to be able to come home after a long day and relax with my girlfriend— but I can’t do that with you, because you always want to do something, you always want to be somewhere. It’s exhausting.

Or was it correct to ask about how I would be able to accept the reality—when my brain was already closed to perceive that one hideous fact from the very beginning? The whole situation was suffocating me—drowning me into a state of constant lethargy. I was so close to death, and if this would be the real end of me, how I wished that I could have at least lived my life to the fullest. People lived their whole lives without really living at all. They actually lived to waste their time. And I guessed that people lived their lives discerning a whole pack of lies, then they would die without even correcting those lies.