ReadingRedhead

United States of America

Hello there, my name is Kita. I'm here trying to improve my writing and help some others along the way :)
"The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt"
-Sylvia Plath

Message from Writer

Hello friends! If you're reading this you've somehow stumbled across my lonely little profile, welcome, now that you're here it's not so lonely. If I can help you in any way, whether it be needing someone to talk to or writing help, please feel free to contact me! my email is keepyourchill@gmail.com.
Have a great day :)

Published Work

Save Me, San Francisco

It was inevitable. Everyone knew that. Yet somehow when it finally happened, not a single person was prepared. Humanity’s worst nightmares came to life. Tsunamis, hurricanes, volcanic eruptions, the list didn’t appear to end. The time has finally come; Mother Earth was taking her planet back, and she wasn’t taking no for an answer.
    When the end finally came, the world population was practically totaled. Barely twenty thousand remain, all scattered around what used to be home. At one point or another, a single thought ran through each survivors’ heads, how did humanity let this happen? Whatever the answer may be, it was a waste of time to dwell on it. People who focused all of their energy on the “should’ve done this”, “would’ve done that”, “could’ve done more”, of what happened barely lasted a day. To survive on this new Earth, one must focus solely on the present, with the main goal of having survived another day. ...

My Dear Old Friend

I had a dear old friend 
and we've been friends for many years
inseparable at first, still, as we continue through the years

He gave the best advice
and he was always there 
he told me what to do
to escape the life I wear

but times grew tough
then I grew tired
tired of his constant nagging 
tired of his constant touch
tired of his constant reminders that what I do won't be good enough
tired of his hopeless words he whispered in my ear
tired of the empty threats that haunted me for years
I wanted to escape him now, for we were friends no more
an optimist turned pessimistic as I lay there on the floor

I've tried to run
I've tried to hide 
but my dear friend always finds me
hiding in the shadows 
Hiding in my books 
Hiding in the perfect lies I've written, take a look

But my dear friend come and find me
I'm stepping into the light  ...

Monostich

Monostitchs

Even Butter knives can make you bleed.

Precious Precious life so loved.

You may not know where you're going or how you're going to get there but you're gonna get there in the end.

Monostich

Monostitchs

Even Butterknives can make you bleed.

Growing Up

There used to be a seven year old girl. One with with long red hair that did whatever it wanted and bright blue eyes seemingly seeing everything and nothing at the same time. A striped  tee hung off her small frame and when she smiled you could see her front two teeth half grown in. She showed that off like a precious trophy because loosing teeth meant your growing up, your one of the big kids. That little girl was excited, she was happy, she was looking forward to another bright sunny day of summer. Maybe she would play in the kiddie pool, maybe she would play on the swings or maybe they could go on some grand adventure. 

That little girl is no longer seven, shes grown into a "responsible young women" as they all say. Her hair is still long and red but her eyes are now a blue grey, fixed on grades and what needs to be...

Paper Walls

You start sprinting through life,
running freely without a fear in the world
Each time we fall and scrape our knee we run through a paper wall
sure, a paper cut can hurt you
you might end with a few scratches but you keep going

You continue sprinting through life
gradually the paper turns to cardboard. 
and it's harder to get through
yet still doable
you live on 

at some point in your life
could be any age 
the cardboard turns to bricks
You crash full force
Mummy's kisses stopped working a long time ago
and the blood coats your fingers.
You start to really think about things as you chip at that brick wall with your nails
Those paper walls were nothing compared to this
You weren't ready
but would you ever have been?

The open wounds turn to invisible scars as you keep marching on
walking you hold your hands out in front of you
Weary of more brick walls just waiting...