Best ramonasfavourites Shayari, Status, Quotes, Stories

Ramona Singh

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wotevah— % & { Yeah, hi. Sit down. Good girl. Career counseling? Let's start with my example. So there's this thing about me having nail polish on and wotevahs. (not like all of them were done like that, but with the nail polish on, i am cooler with the audience and without it, i'm doing the writer equivalent of melodious snoring, i think? it might be tolerable, but could you choose to have it? you might, if you're into silver noise, but would you choose that over the orchestral track with backing vocals? y

wotevah— % & { Yeah, hi. Sit down. Good girl. Career counseling? Let's start with my example. So there's this thing about me having nail polish on and wotevahs. (not like all of them were done like that, but with the nail polish on, i am cooler with the audience and without it, i'm doing the writer equivalent of melodious snoring, i think? it might be tolerable, but could you choose to have it? you might, if you're into silver noise, but would you choose that over the orchestral track with backing vocals? y

Ramona Singh

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Dirty museums To have a memory never so nothinglike, is a tragic tragic thing. It is almost to not know when to believe, when to not believe. To have a part in your own memory, you severe a string with belief. That is comfortable, for once. But then, like a toy seller, you do not know; the Wednesday you believed in and the Wednesday you died, which one was real? Like a car's windows in winter rain, the memory colours itself. But you, you cannot see. And blindness is not a colour. We treasure love. We make mu

Dirty museums To have a memory never so nothinglike, is a tragic tragic thing. It is almost to not know when to believe, when to not believe. To have a part in your own memory, you severe a string with belief. That is comfortable, for once. But then, like a toy seller, you do not know; the Wednesday you believed in and the Wednesday you died, which one was real? Like a car's windows in winter rain, the memory colours itself. But you, you cannot see. And blindness is not a colour. We treasure love. We make mu

Ramona Singh

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Of course, of course, tranquilized traumatized ostracized chicken eyes That one goddamn picture. June took your eyes away like a potato peeler. Get naked and get americanized all of your glittery golden shit you go about. Daffodils here daffodils there why don't you eat them up bitch. Hoarding up locking up hiding this, hiding that, well, why don't you hide your face, why don't you go follow thinspo and get limbs half your original size? 26. 26. Half will be 13. Yeah? Then you will be taken by the wind like a bony kite, kids will point to your skin, your hide, all blue and thin and infested with cellulite And will that be all you ever wanted? TW / It is summer. I am warm. / #fifteen_ramona #nixteen #sicksteen #ramonasfavourites 535

Of course, of course, tranquilized traumatized ostracized chicken eyes That one goddamn picture. June took your eyes away like a potato peeler. Get naked and get americanized all of your glittery golden shit you go about. Daffodils here daffodils there why don't you eat them up bitch. Hoarding up locking up hiding this, hiding that, well, why don't you hide your face, why don't you go follow thinspo and get limbs half your original size? 26. 26. Half will be 13. Yeah? Then you will be taken by the wind like a bony kite, kids will point to your skin, your hide, all blue and thin and infested with cellulite And will that be all you ever wanted? TW / It is summer. I am warm. / #fifteen_ramona #nixteen #sicksteen #ramonasfavourites 535

Ramona Singh

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new? *tw* peppercuts reddest of the red lips to hide peppercuts red lips to hide, hour, two, day, a month for you the laptop holds the tissues

new? *tw* peppercuts reddest of the red lips to hide peppercuts red lips to hide, hour, two, day, a month for you the laptop holds the tissues

Ramona Singh

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{thevioletdaffodil}: so I was wearing headphones, attending a class on the laptop and I wanted to get something to munch on, so I get up and go and Wonk! The headphones are on my ears and as I get yankied towards that blue light satanic flatland, dragging, begging to be let go, Bonk! I frantically yell "oh my absolute God" and now my folks think I'm out of my agnostic phase and they're all celebrating while I realise I have betrayed my wiser, younger, fifteen year old self and I am already a failure in her (weaker) eyes and the expectations and plans she made for me. Guilt seeps in like sawdust that Matilda's father used to put in his clients' cars. WELCOME! TO OUR BEAUTIFUL! UX friendly! thingy! ↗️DISTRACTING POPUP POPUP ADVERT! ↖️ One close source says: "HeLp. She is a failure within 2 months of turning sixteen. Not to be ageist, but that's too young for a failure! Too young for sunsets."

{thevioletdaffodil}: so I was wearing headphones, attending a class on the laptop and I wanted to get something to munch on, so I get up and go and Wonk! The headphones are on my ears and as I get yankied towards that blue light satanic flatland, dragging, begging to be let go, Bonk! I frantically yell "oh my absolute God" and now my folks think I'm out of my agnostic phase and they're all celebrating while I realise I have betrayed my wiser, younger, fifteen year old self and I am already a failure in her (weaker) eyes and the expectations and plans she made for me. Guilt seeps in like sawdust that Matilda's father used to put in his clients' cars. WELCOME! TO OUR BEAUTIFUL! UX friendly! thingy! ↗️DISTRACTING POPUP POPUP ADVERT! ↖️ One close source says: "HeLp. She is a failure within 2 months of turning sixteen. Not to be ageist, but that's too young for a failure! Too young for sunsets."

Ramona Singh

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For him look at you, mystical being your lips part and reveal flies, there's pure grime in your teeth and your breath is flavoured with organic termite defecations from my door i want someone to hug me like

For him look at you, mystical being your lips part and reveal flies, there's pure grime in your teeth and your breath is flavoured with organic termite defecations from my door i want someone to hug me like

Ramona Singh

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remembrance: arizona azure for someone who might've forgotten my face, by now /caption/ i want to bottle your sweat in a vial, maybe and take it with me. in return, can i inject my tears in you? ◆ to the far east is a fox trot azure little sleepy shebang i hang my neck everyday to make sure if it's still there. it always is.

remembrance: arizona azure for someone who might've forgotten my face, by now /caption/ i want to bottle your sweat in a vial, maybe and take it with me. in return, can i inject my tears in you? ◆ to the far east is a fox trot azure little sleepy shebang i hang my neck everyday to make sure if it's still there. it always is.

Ramona Singh

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We're together in a car (A story-like piece) CW: blood, gore, humour He groaned, opened the door of the car and vomited a bit of blood. I stayed inside, counting seconds. He was still coughing when he sat in again, and I gave him gentle punches on the back to suppress the cough. He wiped his mouth with his torn sleeve. "Let me drive now." I suggested.

We're together in a car (A story-like piece) CW: blood, gore, humour He groaned, opened the door of the car and vomited a bit of blood. I stayed inside, counting seconds. He was still coughing when he sat in again, and I gave him gentle punches on the back to suppress the cough. He wiped his mouth with his torn sleeve. "Let me drive now." I suggested.

Ramona Singh

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/when a garden dies/ /Grace/ They do not let you know. You glide into a sliver, not knowing what you leave behind. The roots work to detach from the identity of the tree. A tiddle today, a toddle tomorrow. You come of age. All the angst has now turned to grace. You now sit with papers in your hands and look out dreamily in the garden so yours. All the velvet winged butterflies rush into your being. You sit with papers and the fan lazily sways in circles like a drunk cicada who was once a bard with a lute recounting folktale

/when a garden dies/ /Grace/ They do not let you know. You glide into a sliver, not knowing what you leave behind. The roots work to detach from the identity of the tree. A tiddle today, a toddle tomorrow. You come of age. All the angst has now turned to grace. You now sit with papers in your hands and look out dreamily in the garden so yours. All the velvet winged butterflies rush into your being. You sit with papers and the fan lazily sways in circles like a drunk cicada who was once a bard with a lute recounting folktale

Ramona Singh

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the reader's rant and the writer's complain scroll i am a faceless, feetless thing. i can't do anything about that. nobody knows my face and i have no feet to leave footprints. //mid-air_floating_haunting_bloating// you think of all the pretty proper perfect poems i used to write you think this is one of them.

the reader's rant and the writer's complain scroll i am a faceless, feetless thing. i can't do anything about that. nobody knows my face and i have no feet to leave footprints. //mid-air_floating_haunting_bloating// you think of all the pretty proper perfect poems i used to write you think this is one of them.