Jewelry and dresses always made her day. They made her feel complete. On her darkest days, their beauty always made her smile. Nothing expensive, she preferred the simplicity of her bracelets and earrings. She always said they made her feel stronger. They gave her more power. Other people around her bought the expensive stuff. The more gold, the better. Not for her. Silver was her favorite combined with nice fabrics to complete her look. So she created a uniqueness for her self, which couldn’t be bought, but only lived in her heart ~
~ 💎💗☀️~ *
Beautiful bracelets by @leo.mazzotti *
#ivy #shortstories #stories #storiesofinstagram #fiction #fictionwriter #love #hope #bracelets #leomazzotti
Before, all she did was fight. Now she lived from her passion, which apparently led her to the love of her life. But after all the heartache in the past, she couldn’t understand her new world of peace. That small voice kept repeating all the terrible words of that time. There was no way to escape. Only to love. She needed to be strong. No escape. No mistakes. No sins. She will live the best she can, because it’s something no one ever believed she could. This will be her new voice. Her new mantra.
She can overcome
She will survive
She can be
She can be better
She will conquer
#fiction #ivy #writer #writing #smallstory #poem #poetry #poets #smallstories
By now she became a force of nature to love. Just for her pure being. That was all they needed, that was all that was missing. However, she didn’t see it. All she felt, was the loneliness in her heart. Even though she tried to hide it beneath her beautiful clothes and existence. This was also a part of her they couldn’t deny. It was fine, they said. Your safe. Their words were the greatest gift of her life, and the first gift she ever refused ~ 💙~ #fiction #fictionwriter #love #lovefiction #writer #writing #writers #writersofinstagram #missinglove #grief #sadness
There is a part of me that wants to show this part of anxiety so badly. There is part of me that is addicted to the mask of beauty. It’s the mask that kept me going, made people believe that I was worthy. Even though I felt pain inside.
Couple years ago I showed a little bit of my pain, then a lot and then, everything just slipped.
Now I am in a new home. With people who even adore me, but it’s the wrong part of me. Or not? For some reason they seem to look behind the mask. They carefully take it off and look what’s behind it.
They still think it’s beautiful. The pain is there, but silent. I am afraid what happens, when the voice of my pain becomes free, and people become aware of the loudness within me.
I see they love this silence, the whispering sadness. The adoration of my tears is what keeps me in his arms. So I stay, silent, whispering and full of love.
The best way to heal is to be better. Than who you were and who you were with. If a person was responsible for the hurt in you, be better. It’s a beautiful and idealistic wisdom, but tiring to succeed in.
This I experience everyday. Each day I try to defeat myself and the people around me. My family, their friends, my friends.
Just a year ago I experienced an attack of one of my ex’ closest friends. It turned out to be a set up by my then mother in law. My boyfriend at that time was not at home for a week. During those days I was alone. Afraid to call anyone. I hoped that time would heal me or free me from my wounds.
It became the first. My wounds healed, but it freed me from my relationship.
Nobody knows. Not even my parents. Nobody will know. Because someday I want to be better than the people who hurt me. There are more and I will conquer them. Some how, some day and I won’t give up. I can’t, that’s not Ivy.