Perfect Simplicity

I wish to write a book.
A nonfiction one.
But I need help.
A lot of help.
And more specifically, Yours.

I have an idea for a book. It will be long and arduous but I believe it will be worth it. However, I first need your input. I need to make sure it will be something that you all are interested in. I need to figure out my target audience and write for the interest of them. The audience would be you. Everyday people, with everyday jobs or lack thereof. I need to know what you would want to read. What you need.
The book would consist of your stories and your pictures. Stories of hope, sorrow, forgiveness, anger, and joy. I need them all as much as I need you. I need people to contribute.
It will take years to get enough stories to start weeding through them to chose what should and should not go in.

Is this something you would read? Is this something you would want to submit something for? Are you willing to have your picture taken for it?

If you are reading through my Facebook, message me your thoughts.
Twitter, tweet me.
Tumblr, message/submit to me.
Thank you for reading.

Much love.

Please? And chose either poem or a short story? As compensation, I’ll post it, ok?

Thankfully, I’ve never been on the receiving end of a cruel anon. I have been bullied. Many times. Too many times. I know what it’s like. I know how painful it is. It’s a cruel and cowardly thing to do to a person. I’ve known my attackers but not many of you can say the same. I’m sorry that you’re going through this. Just know that I’m always here to lend an ear if you need it.
The following is a mix of what I’ve gone through emotionally and what I have seen some of you go through. If you can relate, again, know that there are others of us here who do really care for you. We’ll fight for you like no one ever has. :0)

WHAM!
Something punched me in the chest.
WACK!
Something else hit the back of my head.
I spun around trying to find my attackers but saw nothing but shadows. Shadows of people. What I think were people. They were so consumed with fear and hatred for what I was that they weren’t even human anymore. They were monsters that only looked human.
BAM!
Something slammed into my legs knocking me over. I collapsed and looked up.
‘Why can’t you leave me alone?’ I cried. ‘Cant you see that I’m hurting enough?’
But they couldn’t see. They didn’t have the same eyes that I did. That few people I know did. They didn’t understand and therefore lashed out in fear. Their fear, their pain, their dislike and distrust over ran all other thoughts and emotions. They were consumed. Without life. Few of them, maybe, might see with these same eyes of mine, but instead of helping me, faded into the shadows and lashed out in the hopes that they would gain healing. Instead, they fell deeper and deeper.
CRACK!
Another shadow kicked at my ribs while the others punched my legs and pulled my hair. I cried out for help but no one came. This had happened to others. People had tried to save them from these shadows but soon left, too busy, too tired, or were caught in the same trap. I cried and screamed. No one heard me. I tried to fight back but my hands would only find air.
I just wanted it to stop. I would do whatever it took. I was so beaten down, so worn from the fight, I just wanted to lay down and never get up. I cried even more, knowing that there were few options to take at this point, either give up completely or join them. I didn’t want to become them. Soulless, lifeless, without care for others. I didn’t want to do to others what they were doing to me. No. I’ll go. I’ll leave and never return.
I’ll lay down. Submit and let the darkness take me.

Crazy Megan=> best written work on the planet…

Norma looked outside towards the old factory. Her parents used to work there but since the Once-ler ran out of resources, everyone abandoned it and moved on to start different lives. Norma’s parents were some of the last people to leave. Her mom had worked in the packaging center and prepared the Thneeds to be shipped out across the land. Her father on the other hand, was the Once-ler’s personal cook. Norma had met him a few times.

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But the bright side to this? I get to write! I got an idea for something that I’ll share later. I hope you guys like it. :0) I’ve churned out about five pages in the span of an hour. I’m almost at 3k words. :D

Also, if you guys have something you want me to work on, lemme know. Toss it in my ask of fan box and I’ll see what I can do. :0)

My carpal tunnel hasn’t kicked in yet so I can still type.

And in it, start out with one or two sentences for a story. I want to write something silly, suspenseful, crazy, or weird in response. I just wanna write!  XDD

You should totally message me something random. Like, start a story with me. You write a line, I’ll write a line. Then you reblog with the next few lines and then I’ll reblog the next few lines, etc.