Writing Prompt challenge – 28

Day 28 —You read about yourself in your brother/sister, girlfriend/boyfriend’s diary.  What did you read?

I think this will be a short one, I’m not sure what to write for this one.

For my brother – I would imagine it wouldn’t be very complimentary. Although we don’t “not get on”, we have our fair share of sibling arguments, and we wind each other up all the time.

For my boyfriend – I think he would write about being worried about me, if anything. I know it hurts him a lot to see me like this, and when I feel really low I know how much it hurts him when I talk to him about it, and I know he wants to help but he doesn’t know how. I am so lucky to have him, he cares so much and puts up with so much just to be with me.

I’m going to take this writing prompt a bit further, as the whole point of them is to get you to write!! I’m going to write about my brother and my boyfriend a bit more.

My brother, I will call him Mouse (because that’s a nickname I call him, based on his real name.*) He is 13 years old and is growing up fast. Although he is 6 years younger than me, he is now several inches taller than me!! That was not a nice discovery – I came home from uni one time, and suddenly he was taller than me!

He is good natured really – although he seems to be in a mood most of the time, I guess that’s what 13 year old boys are like. We get on sometimes, and last night (NYE) we managed to get on alright, and we played a game with my cousin (Actress) which is like pictionary but with play dough!

I feel sorry for my brother really. He has had to see my mum go through depression, and as he was much younger than me I’d imagine he didn’t really understand it. Why she is sometimes so short tempered and spent so many days in bed, and not being able to do things like the cooking etc. And now there’s me, and I still don’t think he knows what’s going on. He’s 13 and got nothing to worry about, except that he is getting like me in terms of perfectionism – he worries about not doing well enough at school, even though he’s very bright. I hope he doesn’t turn out like me.

And my boyfriend. He’s the loveliest person I know. Although he winds me up a lot (it’s not hard these days) he really cares about me and is always there for me when I need him. (And he knows when I’m not ok, even though I say I am.) He is my best friend more than my boyfriend, and I’m glad it’s that way round. Because of things with the ex, I’m very cautious with my feelings – I don’t want to be out of control. I’m worried about getting hurt again, and there are loads of things that trigger panic and fear in me. Even though for more than half of the year I live the other end of the country, we still talk or at least text everyday. I feel like I’d be lost without him, but I like to think that our friendship is strong enough that even if we split up, we would still be friends.

I do worry that eventually he is going to get fed up of how I am. I know I am difficult to be with, but he says he doesn’t care, and that he wants to be with me anyway. I’m always going to have insecurities about this, seeing as how things ended with the ex, but I feel so bad that he has to deal with the problems which were created by the ex, and the ex just got to walk away and doesn’t have to deal with the consequences of his actions.

Anyway, I think that’s enough of a random ramble. I guess this shows that writing prompts can be helpful, as I didn’t have any ideas for a post tonight, but now I’ve written quite a lot – on a different topic.

*Can anyone guess? – It’s not a direct link!


Writing Prompt Challenge – 10

I’ve decided it’s time to do some more of my writing challenges! I’ve neglected them for quite a while, and I’m having a time of writers block, so I might as well use some of the prompts provided!

On a side note, in my previous post I said that I’m going to post a very important post soon. I haven’t finished it, because I don’t want it to be rushed, but it will be coming – soon!

Day 10 —What do you want to be remembered for?

Some people want to be remembered for being famous; for being a footballer, a singer, dancer, artist. I’d love to write a book, and be famous for it. Not for the money, (although that would be nice) but because I would love to be someone who inspires people. I would love for kids everywhere to read my books like J.KRowling, or even if it just made a difference to a few people. BUT, that’s still not the one thing I’d like to be remembered for.

If there’s one thing that I want people to remember me for, it would be my caring nature. I don’t always do the right thing, I’m not always there at the right time, but I do care. (Sometimes too much.)

When my granddad died (nearly 8 years ago) everyone said “George was such a nice man”, and he was. I never ever remember him being angry, and I always remember him being so kind and gentle.  I like to hope that I am at least a bit like him, I’d like people to remember me for caring, for being kind, for loving.

There’s not much I’m good at, but caring is one of the things I can do. Maybe sometimes I care too much, maybe sometimes I put myself in a worse position by caring, but I can’t help it. I never want people to feel like they have no one; I wouldn’t want it to happen to me.

I hope that I’ll qualify as a clinical Psychologist, and I’ll help loads of people with their mental illnesses, I hope I’ll make a difference. I hope I’ll write a book and it’ll make a difference. I don’t know if any of this will happen, but even if none of it does… I’ll still care.

I hope I’ll inspire people, with whatever I do. I want to make a difference to the world. I want to raise awareness of mental illness, and how the treatment needs a lot of improvement, I want people to understand that these things are ILLNESSES, and not life choices. I want to inspire people to do good with their lives, to make a difference themselves. I’m full of big ideas, and hopes of changing the world, but the chance is I won’t. But even if I affect just one person, it will be something.

I never give up on people, and sometimes that can be a flaw. It meant that I gave the ex far too many chances, but I couldn’t help it – I cared, I wanted him to change, I wanted to give him another chance (because everyone deserves a second chance.*)

And on the note of caring, as I’ve said to lots of my bloggy friends, and my readers, if you ever want someone to “talk”to, you can always send me an email, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.


*But probably no where near as many chances as I gave him.

Writing prompt challenge – 18

Day 18 —Take a reader behind the wheel with the worst driver you’ve ever known.

“Maybe you should get some help… like anger management or something?”

The car starts moving, before she even has time to put her seatbelt on. She quickly jams it in, as the car picks up speed, and he grows angrier. He looks at her, with a look of disgust and anger “Oh so I’m crazy now, am I?” he pushes his foot down further on the accelerator, “I need help, do I?” The wheels spin faster and faster, and she sees the world whizzing by, growing less and less clear as the speed increases.

“Look, I’m sorry, please will you -” she starts, as he slams on the brakes to avoid a collision. They lurch forward, the car coming to a stop just behind the vehicle in front. “slow down” she continues, at a whisper. “Slow down?” he asks, mockingly. He speeds up again, driving along country lanes, picking up more and more speed, overtaking cars that are in his way. “Does it scare you?” he asks, daring her.

“Please, just slow down. You’re scaring me. Please.” She cries. He starts to swerve – on purpose, to scare her. “Am I scaring you now?” he taunts her. The car wiggles along the (empty) road, with the steering wheel being jerked around erratically by the angry driver.

“YOU’RE SCARING ME. STOP THE CAR.” she shouts, the fear evident in her voice, as it trembles with the tears. Her heart is beating fast, it feels like a hammering in her chest. He continues to swerve, speed and suddenly brake as their journey continues. She can’t see the speedometer but she knows it’s fast. Too fast.

“Ok then.” he says, his voice surprisingly calm now. “I’ll go to the hospital. I’m mental. I’ll hand myself in shall I?” and the swerves become more dangerous. She is sure they will come off the road. There are near crashes, as he meets traffic on the road to the hospital. He beeps the horn. She’s crying, begging him, making all sorts of promises, just begging him to calm down, and slow down.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please. I’m sorry.”

Writing prompt challenge – 27

Day 27 —Make up a near-death experience (unless you have a real one).

It was K’s birthday party, I think we must’ve been about 8 at the time. She had a swimming party, and so my family and I travelled the hour journey to where she lives, and I was excited because I loved swimming at the time.

K’s parents had hired the whole pool for us! It was great; there were giant floats that you could sit on, those “noodles” and in the middle a HUGE inflatable slide that you could swim to, climb up, and then launch yourself down the slide and splash into the pool.

We were all playing together, even though I only knew K and her sister, but that’s what kids are like. They don’t mind if they don’t know each other – they just make friends and play together.

A group of us were playing together making islands out of the big floats, and holding them together to make a bigger island that we could all sit on.

Suddenly, I plunged into the water. I remember the sounds of shouting and splashing just disappearing, and seeing nothing around me but a fuzzy blueness – the water of course. I struggled to get myself back above the water but I couldn’t. I was beneath the float island, and I was too disorientated to work out which way to get out. I thrashed around, trying to push the floats out of the way, but there were still children sitting on them, so they were too heavy for me to move.

I still remember the terror of thinking “I can’t get out, I can’t breathe!” I started to feel dizzy, having not enough oxygen left to breathe properly. I was gulping water in my panic, and I needed to get out – I needed to breathe properly again!

I thought I was going to die. No one had noticed that I was under the floats; I was 8 years old and I thought “I’m going to drown!” Eventually, I saw a gap in the floats – I could see the ceiling through the blur of the water. I aimed for it, and propelled myself above the water; choking and gasping for air.

In retrospect maybe this wasn’t a near death experience, but to an 8 year old it felt like it!*

*Parts of this story are true, parts are not – it said make one up, but I just edited one of my personal experiences 🙂

Writing prompt challenge – 7 (Take 2)

Yesterday I did the writing prompt 7 – What sets you apart from the crowd, but it ended up very negative and with me feeling that I’m incredibly boring and not special at all…

So, I’m going to try again… this time from a more positive light!! Here goes:

When I did this post yesterday, I tried to think of that ONE THING that sets me apart. If you’ve read that post, you’ll know that I came to the conclusion that there is nothing that makes me special.

After posting it, I was happily surprised by a number of comments telling me that I was being too hard on myself, that I do have special things about me… So I’m trying again, and last night, after reading those comments I discovered something…

There isn’t ONE THING that sets me apart from the crowd. However, it’s all the little things that make me different. There are parts of who I am that are “normal”, and parts that are very abnormal, so this is going to be a post about what makes me, me.

I am a caring person, sometimes this can be a negative thing (such as giving ex too many chances, or having people walk all over me) but generally this is a nice trait to have. I find it easy to make friends because of this, and I enjoy looking after people, cheering them up, being there for them.

I am quite strange. I like naming inanimate objects (Bob, Steve, Matilda), and I have an unhealthy obsession with Eastenders and Elephants. I spend way too long on my laptop every day, reading and writing blogs, but that’s what I like doing. I love reading about other people’s lives, and trying to help where I can by leaving comments. Then there’s writing, that’s what I really like doing. There’s not that much that I have a genuine interest in at the moment (blame the depression!) but writing is still something I enjoy. I’m not going to pretend to be a good writer, but hey – I like it, so I’m going to do it!

I am the only (or possibly 1 of 2) student in my year at my university studying the course I do. It’s a weird combination, which never fails to get the response “Oh…that’s unusual” when people ask what I’m studying. But I don’t care, it’s what I want to do. I like languages, and I like Psychology.

I am a Cub leader (when I’m at home, although I might try and find a group up here too) and even though I sometimes get anxious about speaking in front of the kids, I enjoy it, because it makes the kids happy. They love cubs and all the activities we do there, and making people happy makes me happy.

I want to be a psychologist because I want to help people. People like me with depression and anxiety, and people with other mental health illnesses. So maybe, what sets me apart is that I’m a helping person… most of the stuff I enjoy revolves around helping people.

Then there’s physical difference. I am incredibly short for my age. I always have been the smallest in my class, even in nursery I think! I am 4 ft 11 and 3/4, so (as my boyfriend says) “pretty much as close to 5 ft as possible, without being 5 ft.” Being this short draws a lot of teasing about my height, and a lot of surprised people when they discover that I am in fact 19, rather than about 14. Embarrassingly, my brother (who is 13) is now taller than me… I used to hate being small, after being teased/bullied about it for a large portion of my school life, but now I don’t care anymore. I can wear heals, and I’m still not as tall as my boyfriend, and I’ll never ever have trouble finding a guy taller than me! (Also, it’s handy for hide and seek.)

I like running, something that a lot of people HATE. I have to admit, I haven’t been running much recently, I’ve been feeling too exhausted all the time, but I want to get back into it.

So there we have it, all of this stuff makes me, me. And that’s what sets me apart from the crowd.

(Wow, writing this has put me in a much better mood! I guess I need to focus on the positives rather than the negatives!)

Writing prompt challenge – 7

Day 7 —What sets you apart from the crowd?

I am sitting here, wanting to write one of these posts. Today number 7 came up. This is a hard one, but here goes.

I don’t think I’m special. I don’t think I’m unique, there’s nothing about me that makes me different. Many people have particular skills or personalities or hobbies that make them different. All my life, I’ve never had anything that was just “my thing”, I’ve never been unique.

One of my friends (Monkey) seems to have many things that set her apart: she is fantastic at art, incredibly intelligent academically, she does various types of dance (tap, ballet, maybe others.) We both used to play the clarinet when we were at school together, she was better. I was in her art class, she was better. In academic subjects, she always got the grades just a little bit above mine. I was always just a little behind her, in everything.

The other best friend I had in secondary school (we’ll call her piglet) was also incredibly academic, leaving me left behind. She also plays the violin to a high standard, and is very good at badminton.

My friend Cambridge, who is (perhaps obviously) studying at Cambridge University has a gift for music (grade 8 violin with distinction) and languages (she did Spanish, French and Italian A levels, and is studying Spanish and Italian at uni, and about to pick up Catalan!)

My boyfriend’s “thing” is rock climbing, he loves it. He is very passionate about it, and he climbs usually at least twice a week, sometimes more. Recently he spent two weeks climbing in Greece, and he loved every minute!

A few days ago he said something to me that stuck in my mind. He said “what are you really passionate about?” I couldn’t answer. There is nothing in my life that is “my thing.” I don’t seem to have a passion for anything. Not anymore.

Footballer has football (obviously!) Artist has…art! Panda has scuba diving… Kittens has drama/acting… everyone seems to have something, except me.

I have always achieved well. Never exceedingly amazing at anything though. I used to play clarinet, but I was rubbish. I get good grades, but never the best. I like to write, but it’s no good. I am learning German, but I am far from fluent, and Sheep will always be better. I am a Cub leader, but that is not unusual either – Monkey is a Brownie leader, several of my friends are Cub/Beaver leaders, and besides I’m barely ever there as I’m in Lancaster in term time, so I can’t call myself a proper Cub leader. I don’t have my own thing. I want my own thing.

This post was supposed to be what sets me apart. I think it was supposed to be a positive, uplifting post about what makes me different, what makes me special, what sets me apart from everyone else. Well, I guess I found it… What sets me apart is that I don’t have anything special about me.

Edit: I have now done this prompt again, from a positive point of view! You can read it here!

30 day writing prompt challenge – 30

Day 30 —Write a short entry that ends with the line, “The silver dust of moonlight settled coldly on the night.”

How bizarre! I’m starting at the end it seems! I’m quite excited for this 30 day challenge as I’m hoping it will give me some inspiration for some creative writing!!

So anyway, here goes – day 1 or day 30, however you want to look at it!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was a cold evening, the streets were quiet, and there was no one to see   Fiona quietly sliding her window open, dropping a bag out of the window and then lowering herself down as far as possible before jumping down. She dusted herself down and picked up her bag. With a deep breath, she started walking down the street; her footsteps echoing in the emptiness.

As she reached the end of the street, she fondly touched the street name sign, which read “Osbee Road” in faded black lettering. This was the place she had grown up, happily as a child, and now it was the place she was leaving behind. She was going to start a new life, far away from there.

Just round the corner, Fiona could see her get away vehicle. The black Ford Fiesta purred as the driver started the engine. With one more look back at her old home, Fiona took a deep breath and got into the car.

“Hello John,” she said, “So this is really it?” He smiled back at her,

“This is a new start for you. You can get away from here now, you don’t have to worry anymore.” He said. “Now, are you sure you’ve got everything? You won’t be able to go back once we’ve left.”

Fiona looked around her, “I know, I’m ready” she said. It was time. John put the car into gear, and started to pull away. The tires made a crunching noise against the gravelly road, and soon there was nothing but dust floating in the air to suggest their presence. The silver dust of moonlight settled coldly on the night.