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Chapter 5 - A Small Comfort She stopped wondering whether she belonged here. For now, there was the project, and that was enough. She and her partner settled into a rhythm—meeting after class, shooting footage, and sharing notes when needed. It was functional and efficient. But it was also the only time she really talked to someone since coming to the school. One evening, as they wrapped up their last study session at his apartment, he leaned back on the couch and stretched. “You know, when I first got here, I felt like I was just floating around. Like I was a visitor, not a student.” She glanced up from her laptop, intrigued. He didn’t usually talk about himself much. When he did, it was usually about him and his girlfriend, which she took great enjoyment in. Listening to him talk about their story was like being a teenage girl again, reading about high school sweethearts. “What changed?” she asked. He smirked. “Networking. Sounds lame, I know, but that’s what this school is about. It’s not just about showing up, doing the work, and leaving. You’ve gotta push yourself to meet people and make connections. That’s how you make it here. That’s how you make it anywhere, really.” She nodded as she listened, though the idea of forcing herself to talk to people still felt daunting. But with him, she had started to feel comfortable. “You got that app the school asks you to download? The one with your schedule and everything?” he asked as he looked over at her. She nodded. “Yeah, of course I do.” She glanced at her phone as if making sure the app was still there, despite knowing she looked at it almost every day for her schedule. “Here, let me see your phone.” He stretched out his hand, waiting. She raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look as if he was really asking her to just hand over her phone. He chuckled lightly, his hand still hanging in the air. He tilted his head, silently challenging her to deny him. She smiled, rolling her eyes before grabbing her phone from the table and dropping it into his hand dramatically. It’s not like she had anything interesting on it anyway. What was the harm in letting him have it for a second? He opened the app and navigated to a part she had never seen before. “See this?” He turned the phone to her. “This is how I found events to network with people when I first started. I managed to make some friends at these events. I’m sure that you could, too.” She watched as he scrolled through the list of school events happening throughout the month. She knew he just wanted to help her make friends. Maybe he felt bad for her. Maybe he even found her pitiful. He looked back at her, seemingly done scrolling through her phone. She nodded. “Yeah, I’ll think about it.” He studied her for a moment, as if deciding whether she was telling the truth. Whatever he saw in her expression must have satisfied him, because after a few moments, he nodded back as if accepting her answer. The end of the month approached, and so did the deadline for their project. One day after their last study session, as she gathered her things, preparing to leave, he spoke up. “After this class ends, we probably won’t see each other again. Our programs don’t have many classes together.” Something inside her dipped just slightly. Despite knowing this already, he was the only person she had really talked to since coming here. She smiled to herself, though it came out more crooked than she intended. “Yeah… I guess not.” As she slung her bag over her shoulder, she looked back at him. He was already looking at her. “But if you ever need help, or if you get stuck with another project and don’t have anyone to work with, you can always ask me. I don’t mind.” She smiled, a real one this time. Even if she never talked to another person at this school, at least she knew that if she ever needed help—if another project came up where she had the option to choose—she could count on him. And somehow, that made everything feel a little better. xoxo, @auroxisia_

Chapter 4 - A Shift in the Air The first month of university passed in a blur. Eile moved through the days like a ghost—present, but unnoticed. She attended lectures, took notes, and left the moment class was dismissed. The campus buzzed with life, but she drifted through it without stopping, without exploring. She stuck to familiar paths, ones that led only to the places she needed to be. Conversations flowed around her, laughter erupted in clusters, but she remained an observer. An outsider looking in. She wasn’t miserable, but she wasn’t happy either. She simply existed—another nameless figure in a crowd, a number lost in a sea of students. The only words she’d spoken since arriving were on the first day, asking for directions. Then came the moment that cracked her routine. “All right, everyone.” The professor’s voice cut through the room. “Your next assignment will be done in pairs. You can choose anyone, even outside this class, though working with a classmate is recommended. That way, you’ll both understand the material.” Her stomach dropped. She had managed to avoid group work so far, slipping through the cracks, keeping to herself. Now, panic coiled around her throat. Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of her seat. Before she could stop herself, she muttered, “Uh, no. What am I going to do?” A quiet chuckle came from beside her. “What’s wrong? Need a partner?” She turned toward the young man sitting next to her—probably for the first time since the semester started. He had been there all month, but she had never really noticed him. He had an easy presence, the kind that fit into any space without effort. Now, he was watching her with mild curiosity. “I—uh—” she hesitated. What was she supposed to say? That she had no one here? No family, no friends, no one she could ask? That she had kept to herself all this time and now had no idea how to approach someone? “Yeah.” He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have any friends or family who could help you?” Her face burned. Great. He hit the nail right on the head. “No,” she admitted, staring down at her hands. “I moved here alone. I... haven’t had the chance to make friends yet.” God, did that make her sound pathetic? Like a total loner? She felt his gaze linger, the heat of it pressing against her skin. “Okay.” His voice was casual, unbothered. “You can do the video on me, then. I’d feel bad knowing you have no one else to work with.” He shrugged. “I’m Lucas, by the way.” She blinked at him, caught off guard. She had braced for pity, for awkwardness—but instead, he offered a lifeline. “Eile,” she said softly, almost hesitant. The professor continued explaining the assignment, but Eile barely heard him. She was still wrapping her head around the fact that she had a partner. That she would have to work with someone, engage with them. They went over the project details, planning when and where to meet outside of class. Lucas took the lead, throwing out ideas for their subject and how they could structure the video. He spoke easily, confidently. She understood most of it, even thought about correcting him a few times. She had studied diligently, after all. But something about the way he carried himself made her hold back. Instead, she nodded along, asked questions she already knew the answers to, let him explain things to her. Not because she needed help. But because she wasn’t ready to be seen yet. Lucas studied her for a moment before giving a knowing smile. “You sure you need me to explain anything else? You seem to have a good grasp on this.” Her face grew hot. “I—yeah, I just—” she scrambled for an excuse, fiddling with her hands. “I’m not that great with technology. Not really... tech-savvy, if you know what I mean.” He tilted his head, considering her. Then he chuckled. “Yeah, I get it.” They continued working, and for the first time since arriving at university, she felt... maybe not comfortable, but a little less out of place. Like she wasn’t just drifting anymore. Like maybe, just maybe, she could belong here. As they packed up, Lucas glanced at her. “Oh, by the way, I heard something interesting.” She paused. “Really? What was it?” “The professor pulled me aside earlier. He thanked me for helping you.” Her breath caught. “He what?” “Yeah.” Lucas slung his bag over his shoulder. “Said he was worried about you. That you were too shy. That he wasn’t sure you’d make it.” She froze. A sharp, twisting frustration coiled inside her. Embarrassment burned through her. She had sat in that class for weeks, listening intently, absorbing everything, and yet—the only thing he saw in her was doubt. Her grades never dipped lower than a 98. She did her best to keep up, to stay on top of everything. And yet... he had already decided she wouldn’t last. And he hadn’t even said it to her. He had whispered it to someone else, passed judgment behind her back. Had he seen her for the fraud she felt like? Did he see that she didn’t belong here, just like she feared? She had thought she was invisible. But no—she had been noticed. Just not in the way she wanted. Lucas smiled, oblivious to the storm raging inside her. “Guess you’ve got someone rooting for you in the faculty.” She let out a small, stiff laugh, but her mind was elsewhere. That nagging doubt, the one she had been trying to ignore, had just found new fuel. And she wasn’t sure if she could put out the fire. xoxo, @auroxisia_

Chapter 3 - Out of Place The first day never felt so long. The rush of entering the classroom, the moment of sitting down, had only been the beginning. The rest of the class seemed to stretch on, pulling her into its rhythm, its strange, unknowable current. Every moment felt like it was happening a bit too fast and a bit too slow all at once. Time seemed to move in waves—distant and close at the same time, a bizarre kind of limbo. She had made it through the lecture, but that didn’t mean she was okay. It was easy to fake it in the beginning. She nodded when the professor asked a question, smiled at the right moments, scribbled down a few notes as if she was part of the conversation. Though she was sure that all her thoughts showed on her face. How utterly clueless she was throughout the class as the professor spoke. It seemed like things everyone else knew, and she was an outsider looking in. Her mind was blank. Her thoughts only focused on trying to retain his words. The faces of her classmates were an ocean of unfamiliarity, each one a new puzzle piece she couldn’t quite fit into. Everyone seemed to be in their own world, already at ease, already part of the rhythm of the class. The guy next to her, the one with black hair and glasses, typed furiously on his laptop, his eyes fixed on the screen. His screen split in two. One on a video of a popular video game she's sure she's seen before, and the other showing the program introduced during class. She glanced at him once but quickly looked away when he caught her staring. She felt her cheeks flush with heat. Was he judging her? She had no idea. Did it even matter? She shifted in her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it only made things worse. The chair was comfortable, but she feared becoming too comfortable. She leaned back in it, and soon became scared of falling back when there didn't seem to be a limit to how far her chair would allow her to sit. When the lecture finally ended, she almost didn’t want to leave. The moment she stood, the walls felt a little too close. There was a surge of activity as the students packed up, gathering their bags, zipping up their laptops, and filing out. She remained seated for a second longer, hoping to give herself a moment to breathe, to process. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt like an outsider looking in. Maybe everyone else already had friends, already knew how the whole college thing worked. They had found their places in the world, and here she was, still floating, still searching for something solid to hold onto. It was overwhelming—this whole new world of people who seemed so sure of themselves, while she was still fumbling with her own sense of purpose. The hallway outside felt colder than she expected. It smelled like cleaning supplies again, that sharp, sterile scent that made everything feel like it was still under construction. She walked slowly, trying to put some distance between herself and the sea of students, trying to let the quiet of the hallway offer a moment of respite. She gripped her bag tighter, wishing she could pull herself together like she did in her head when she imagined how things would go. She’d thought it would be different. She’d thought she would walk in with a little more confidence, a little more ease, as if the world was already hers to take. But it wasn’t. Not yet. She sat in her car, head on the steering wheel. She closed her eyes, just breathing, reminding herself that it was okay to feel lost, to feel unsure. It wasn’t going to be easy. She knew that. But maybe—just maybe—it would get easier. One day. xoxo, @auroxisia_

Chapter 2 - Inside the Maze Her shoes squeaked against the tile as she stepped inside. The cool air washing over her, a quiet relief. For a moment, it felt like she could breathe again. The relief was short-lived. The building felt endless, a maze of walls with movies posters, fluorescet lights buzzing overhead. Hallways stretched before her, the hum of voices made her heart beat faster. It smelled like like cleaning supplies and Florida air —sterile, sharp, with a lingering humidity. Another deep breath. She could figure this out. Her eyes flicked to her phone, then up at the ceiling, where metal signs marked room numbers. Follow the signs. She moved quickly, trying to appear confident, like she knew where she was going. But after two wrong turns, a dead end, and a full circle, the nervous sweat returned. The clock taunted her. Three minutes. Then, like a miracle, she spotted it. Room 111B. The classroom door stood before her. The knot in her stomach tightened, nervousness flooding back. She took another deep breath, eyes flickering around—looking for someone, anyone, to reassure her. Anything to make this less intimidating. She hesitated, fingers trembling on the door handle, before finally pushing it open. The instant she entered, every head turned. Her stomach dropped. She froze in place, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. It felt like a nightmare—showing up late, everyone staring as if she didn't belong. Please don't let me be the only one late. Her throat went dry as she tried to swallow the nervousness. The professor—an older man with graying hair and wire-rimmed glasses—offered a small nod. "Welcome. Come in, take a seat." Her feet obeyed, carrying her toward an empty chair. She sets her things down next to a young man with black hair and glasses. He glanced at her as she settled into her seat. She checked her phone again. One minute to spare. Great. Barely made it. The professor did a quick headcount, muttering numbers under his breath. Apparently, she wasn’t the only latecomer—someone else hadn’t shown up either, but he didn’t seem fazed. The tension in her chest eased slightly, but when she looked around, she saw her classmates already set up—laptops open, notebooks out, ready to go. She scrambled to pull her own laptop from her bag, fumbling slightly as she rushed to catch up. She felt exposed, like everyone could tell she wasn't supposed to be there. The beat of her heart was almost deafening. The fear of saying the wrong thing. Of being laughed at or made to feel like she doesn't belong. Her hands trembled just a little. First-day jitters. That’s all. But as the professor began speaking, her shoulders relaxed just the tiniest bit. She had made it to class. And for now, that was enough. xoxo, @auroxisia_

Chapter 1- First Day The sun was ruthless. It hung high in the sky, burning down with a vengeance, making the pavement shimmer as waves of heat rolled through the air. She could already feel sweat gathering at the base of her neck, dampening the collar of her shirt. Not exactly how she wanted to start her first day. She clutched her phone, her grip slightly damp from the heat and nerves, staring down at the campus map with a furrowed brow. 3F, Room 111B.  The numbers meant nothing when every building looked the same. She glanced up, eyes darting over the towering structures, but there were no clear signs, no flashing arrows pointing her in the right direction. Her stomach twisted as she checked the time. 9:47 AM. Class started in thirteen minutes . Her heartbeat picked up, pounding against her ribs like it wanted out. The fear of being late started to overpower the fear of asking for help. She swallowed, lifting her gaze to the crowd moving around her. Students rushed past—laughing in groups, eyes locked on their phones, striding ahead with the confidence of people who knew where they belonged. She didn’t. She seemed to be more lost than ever. Her fingers hovered over her screen, debating whether to pull up another map, but what good would that do? She needed help. She whimpered to herself as she worried about how she will possibly make it to class on time. The anxiety at the thought of being late filled her. Then she spotted him. A young man, walking out of a nearby building, calm amidst the rush. He wasn’t in a hurry like the others—his pace was unhurried, his posture relaxed. Maybe she could ask him. Before she could talk herself out of it, she moved. She quickly walked toward him, stomach twisting tighter with each step, until she was close enough to reach out. Her hand hesitated in the air for a second before she tapped his shoulder, the touch light, almost uncertain. "Uh—excuse me?" He turned, blinking down at her. He was taller than she expected, maybe a junior or senior, his dark eyes mildly curious. Her lips curled into a nervous smile, but it came out crooked, more like an awkward grimace. "Hi, um—"  she cleared her throat, her voice cracking slightly, "I'm a bit lost. I was wondering if you could help me? I'm trying to find 3F, Room 111B." She fidgeted with her phone, shifting it from one hand to the other, already bracing for the possibility that he might be too busy to help. But instead, he smiled. Not in a condescending way, but in the way people do when they remember being in your place once. The bundle of nerves in her chest calms slightly from his smile. "Uh, yeah. Here, let me see." He extended his hand slightly, gesturing for her phone. She turned her phone toward him, gripping it like a lifeline as he began explaining. "Each building has a letter, and each section of the building has a number,"  he said, pointing over his shoulder. "That building right there is 3F." She followed his finger, eyes darting to the building he had just walked out of. "This part of campus is Building 3,"  he continued. "From there, it should be easy. There are signs hanging from the ceiling—just follow them, and they’ll lead you right where you need to go." His voice was steady, patient, but when she flicked her gaze back to him, she caught a slight tilt of his head, as if making sure she actually understood . She didn't. Not fully, at least. It was too much information too fast ,  her mind was already a tangled mess of nerves, and now it felt like she was trying to process directions in a foreign language. The words he spoke were drowned out as she focused on his voice. It calmed her down, but she couldn't retain any of the words he actually said. She looked at him. Then at the building. Then at her phone. Then back at him again, lips parting slightly like she was about to ask for more clarification—but nothing came out. "You got it?"  he asked. She didn’t. But she didn’t want to be a burden. He had already helped her enough, and she didn’t want to take up any more of his time. She tilted her head slightly to the right as she tried to decide if she should ask him to clarify once more. Ultimately, she decided against it. So she nodded slowly. "Uh, yeah. I think I got it. Thank you." He smiled, easy and unbothered. "Yeah, no problem." And just like that, he walked away, heading toward his car. She exhaled sharply, like she had been holding her breath without realizing it. Her stomach still felt like it was tied in knots, but she at least had a direction now. She no longer felt as scared as she was before, having now soken to someone at the school. Them being much nicer than she anticipated. Not as scary as she had envisioned in her mind. "Okay,"  she whispered to herself. "You can do this." With a deep breath, she turned and headed toward the building. xoxo, @auroxisia_

What Once Held So Much Weight What once held so much weight for me now feels like words on a page, like a memory that no longer stings. It doesn’t mean that what I felt wasn’t real—it just means I’ve processed it, healed from it, and moved on. The things that once consumed us become just another part of our story, no longer holding power over us. It’s a bittersweet feeling, but oh so freeing. There are days when my memories bring me back. Back when I would feel like my heart was physically breaking, my tears clouding my vision, and my love freely given but never treasured. What Does It Mean to Love? What does it mean to be in love? Or to love someone? Being in love means obsessing over their attention, affection, and how they make you feel. Loving someone, though, means that when those feelings fade and you see their flaws, you see them for who they truly are. And then you can begin to love them. Loving someone isn’t just a feeling—it’s choosing to stay after “losing feelings.” If you love someone because of their lips, their eyes, or their body, it’s lust. If you love someone for their intelligence or insights on life, it’s admiration, not love. If you love someone because they make you forget about studying or sleep, it’s infatuation, not love. Love is when you have no clue why you are attracted to them. Love is when the heart sees what is invisible to the eyes. Love is when you can’t explain how you feel about them to the other person—or yourself. The Complexity of Letting Go I hate you because I wanted to ask you to try. Because I liked you, and I know you broke up with me because you loved someone else. But we were still in the beginning of our relationship. We still had time to cultivate our feelings. We were just starting. And I hate you because you gave up. You were ready to leave before I was—and I hate you for it. You told me to let out what I feel toward you or I wouldn’t feel better. So here it goes. I still like you. Or maybe I love you. I hate you because I still have feelings for you, but I know why we can’t work. I hate you because you made me like you, but at the same time, I don’t hate you. Not really. I mostly hate myself for it. For still liking you even though we’re over. I still care for you and would like to still be friends. Honestly, talking to my boys, and sometimes even you, are the few times that I’m laughing and not crying. But I have to take you off that list. I talk to you and I’m not so upset anymore. It sounds like you’re doing okay, and that makes me happy. But at the same time, somewhere deep inside me, I want to try and fight for our relationship. To be unreasonable and hold on to you, trying to make it work. But I don’t want to risk ruining the chance for us to be friends by doing that. Because I know I’ll be crushed if you don’t want to work it out. And I don’t want to ask because I don’t know the answer. I just don’t want to hear you say no, for real. A Loyal Heart I like you, and if I could, I’d probably fight for you if I had even a small inkling that you wanted to be with me. Because I am sadly a loyal, understanding, somewhat empathetic person. And I fight for people. When someone gets my care, no matter our relationship, I fight tooth and nail for them. So for now, this has to be it. This has to be the last love letter I give you for a long time. Maybe a month... We’ll see how I feel in a month. I’m sure I’ll be past the crying stage by then. And hopefully the angry stage. Hopefully, by the end of the month, I’ll have reached acceptance, and maybe we can be friends again. ... These are the feelings of the person I was last year. These are not the feelings I have now. We are not the same person anymore. ... xoxo, @auroxisia_

I have to move on now. It’s terrifying, yet the road ahead calls for me louder than the weight shackling me to the past. Sometimes, I glance back, tracing the outlines of memories, the faces I once knew. The scars, visible and not visible, littered on my skin, reminders of my past. The good memories and the bad cling to me like shadows, entwining in ways I cannot untangle. Often, the bad outweighs the good, but still, I hesitate to release them. I feel them as if they were right with me. So tangible that I can see them clear as day. Their hands imprinted on my skin. Still, I know I must let go. I know the ones I fear losing are already moving forward while I’m left in the dusty corners of their minds, forgotten. And therein lies my battle—I’ve always lived in the past. The trauma, the hate, the fear, the pain—they’ve become a part of me, woven into the very fabric of my being. They are so familiar, so ingrained, that letting them go feels like losing a part of myself. It would feel as if I were splitting my soul into two. Letting go of something that makes up my whole being.  But I’m older now. I can no longer use youth as an excuse to remain shackled by my past. I’ve grown. I’ve matured. I refuse to endure the disrespect just to appease someone else. I refuse to bow my head to those who view me as a lesser being. I will not shrink, not for anyone, not anymore. I won’t be diminished just to comfort another. I refuse to allow myself to be controlled. I refuse to be treated as an object, a plaything, a pet to be discarded once they’re done. No more. I refuse to hold on to the disrespect I’ve endured just to keep someone who no longer deserves to have me in their life. I have value. I live and breathe. I am a human being, not a toy made to be discarded when I no longer bring someone any use. I refuse to play ignorant. The me I’ve become—strong, unwavering, unafraid to block out those who aren’t for me, unafraid to say goodbye to the ghosts of people once deemed “important”—she is no longer someone I fear becoming. She is me now. And I love her. To be more frank, I adore her.  Yes, sometimes the fear creeps in, crawling up my spine and wrapping itself around my neck, paralyzing me as I look back at the good times, at the faces of people I thought I was “losing.” But the truth is—the good memories were because of me. I made them fun and happy. And I would never truly lose myself. I don’t need to fear the absence of those who’ve left me. I only need to remind myself that we will be okay. As long as I know myself, I will not fear an unhappy life.  The only way forward is to move on. I know my life is better now. If the old me could see me today, she’d probably laugh at her own foolishness first and then push me to make up for the mistakes she made. But I know she wouldn’t call them mistakes, either. She’d look around at her decisions and look back at me and smile. Then she’d tell me that her youth was not wasted. Her youth was the lesson we needed to learn. The pain and the fun, she would regret none of it. In her defense, they do make for some damn interesting stories. And isn’t that what life is? A journey of collecting stories.  My past is nothing more than a collection of those stories, stories that led me here today. The people who aren’t in my life anymore? They no longer hold weight in my heart. And that’s okay. Everything is perfect now. It’s hard. It’s trying. But that’s the essence of growth. And growth means I’m still living.  xoxo, @aurorxisia_

My friend... My lover... My enemy...  My friend... My lover... My enemy... My lover...  MY ENEMY... A pattern. A cycle. A curse.  We play this game—  a dance of ruin.  A love story written in blood.  Slit from our wrists, ink and blood intertwine—  a love letter written in wounds.  Come closer, so close I can taste you on my lips.  Your breath lingers—  intoxicating, sickeningly sweet.  A moment, frozen in time.  Then—  We break apart.  The distance between us—  wide, gaping, a crater in the earth, a chasm we can’t cross.  Fate laughs. The cycle spins on.  We're stuck in a cycle we can't break.  A twisted dance, a tangled game. I’m angry.  I hate you.  And yet—  You say you love me. Do you?  Or am I the toy you pretend I am?  To love me yet never know me.  Ha. What a little fool.  To claim to be more than me,  yet you are so far behind me.  We sway, a blur of flirtation, I am winning… I am losing…  A trick. A game. The stakes? Our hearts —no, mine.  Caught in this rhythm, a never-ending waltz of lies to which I consent.  You lead. I follow. I lead. You follow.  A dance of deception.  The lies flow like honey from silver tongues—yours? Mine?  Both.  Mine were knowing lies, yours, unknowing, a fool— lying to us both, but isn’t it what we both wanted?  To feel wanted? To be needed? To be loved?  Or at least a shadow of what we swore love should be.  A dance where truth has withered, slipping like smoke through my fingers.  What’s right? What’s wrong?  I don’t even know anymore…  Did I ever really know?  Morals are long forgotten.  Love came, love left, and with it, hatred. But even that faded.  Now it’s just… nothing.  A boring cycle.  Empty. Cold. An abyss. The endless game continues.  Passionless flirtations. A hollow dance.  You lead, and in a fury, I follow—defiance in my every step.  A shiver slithers down my spine.  Ice in my veins and a fire in my lungs.  Your gaze crawls over me—  a sickness.   Eyeing me—like your next victim.  A toy to play with when you’re bored.  You’ve become nothing but a dog in heat.  Nipping at my heels in the hope of a treat.  Pawing at my body like it belongs to you. The knife in my hand, cold and sharp,  its edge aimed at your chest. Indifference in my eyes.  The temptation is there.  My hands itching to plunge deep into your chest.  But there’s something else.  I pause.  One beat.  Then two.  I could drive it deep—  but I don’t. No.  I spare you the final blow.  A cruel mercy, and with it, the end of our dance.  Our game is over.  Go away, you stupid fool.  Lies and deception cling to us like a cloak,  but I’ve shed it now.  May you forget, for I shall never remember.  You wish to find me again in five years?  Ha! I laugh at your naivety.  The game is over.  Our paths have already diverged, never to cross again.  Let’s not cling to this twisted game.  If we meet again—my blade will be a sword.  And this time—I won’t miss. xoxo, @auroxisia_

There is a fire coming. I see it in the distance. Feel the heat before it touches my skin. Hear the sizzle and crackle of the flames as they wipe out the earth before me. The reek of burning. They've found me. "Judgment," "Consequence," Self-righteous enemies standing on a pedestal built on the backs of sinners like me. With a "purity" even the gods wouldn't claim. Sinner. Liar. Witch. The words drip from their tongues, lashing at me like a vicious curse. Their eyes ablaze in hate so strong, it could've lit the match that started the fire. They come, torches in hand. They think the fire will be my undoing, That I will crumble and fall. My ashes blown away in the wind. I say let them come. I do not burn so easily. My wrath, though short, is the breath of dragons. My stance unshaken like mountain stone. They can set the world on fire but when the flames settle, It will be I, not them, that is left standing. xoxo, @auroxisia_

Hi there! As a graphic designer, I usually find myself immersed in creating visuals, but recently I've been reminiscing about my first love - writing. So, I have decided to dive into a 30-day writing challenge to explore my creativity with words and reconnect with my passion for writing. Pure chaos, unfiltered. One piece of writing every day —poems, stories, whatever my brain spits out. Some will hit, come will miss, but that's the fun of it. No rules, no overthinking, just vibes. Let's see where this goes! I'll be sharing the pieces I write each day throughout the month. It's all about experimenting with different styles, pushing my limits, and having fun in the process. The point of the challenge is to just get something written down, no matter what it is. I hope you'll follow along as I take on this creative journey, and maybe even get inspired to try something new yourself! Stay tuned for daily posts, and let's see where this writing adventure takes us! xoxo, @auroxisia_