Paint

so when words fail me, and there's no wind in my lungs

please know that you are it all

my salvation, my saviour, my grace

Ways I Show a Character is Emotionally Burned Out (Before They Even Realize It Themselves)

I love writing characters who think they’re fine but are actually walking emotional house fires with bad coping mechanisms.

They stop doing the things they used to love and don’t even notice. Their guitar gathers dust. Their favorite podcast becomes background noise. Their hobbies feel like homework now.

They pick the path of least resistance every time, even when it hurts them. No, they don’t want to go to that thing. No, they don’t want to talk to that person. But whatever’s easier. That’s the motto now.

They’re tired but can’t sleep. Or they sleep but wake up more tired. Classic burnout move: lying in bed with their brain racing like a toddler on espresso.

They give other people emotional advice they refuse to take themselves. “You have to set boundaries!” they say—while ignoring 8 texts from someone they should’ve cut off three emotional breakdowns ago.

They cry at something stupidly small. Like spilling soup. Or a dog in a commercial. Or losing their pen. The soup is never just soup.

They say “I’m just tired” like it’s a personality trait now. And not like… emotionally drained to the bone but afraid to admit it out loud.

They ghost people they love, not out of malice, but because even replying feels like too much. Social battery? Absolutely obliterated. Texting back feels like filing taxes.

They stop reacting to big things. Catastrophes get a blank stare. Disasters feel like “just another Tuesday.” The well of feeling is running dry.

They avoid being alone with their own thoughts. Constant noise. TV always on. Music blasting. Because silence = reckoning, and reckoning is terrifying.

They start hoping something will force them to stop. An accident. A missed deadline. Someone else finally telling them, “You need a break.” Because asking for help? Unthinkable.

If You Were a Poem

By Astrum

If you were a poem,

I would read you in whispers under candlelight,

tracing every syllable like a secret I was never meant to know.

Your laughter would be italicized,

soft and leaning into the edges of midnight.

Your sorrows?

Those would be bold —

unafraid, unapologetically beautiful.

I would fold you into the corners of my journals,

tuck you beneath my breath,

and let no one but the moon know

how deeply I have memorized your lines.

You are the poem I never dared to write,

and yet somehow,

I’ve been reading you all my life.

It's not about how long you've known someone, but about who walked into your life, said 'I'm here for you,' and proved it."

Yours Astrum.

I don’t want a home.

I want a heartbeat

that beats louder when it feels me near.

By yours Astrum

"i’d undress your mind first"

by Astrum.

i wouldn’t rush you.

i’d start slow —

trace the curve of your thoughts

long before i ever touched your skin.

i’d ask how you sleep when it rains,

what keeps you awake when it’s silent,

and where you ache when no one’s looking.

i’d want to know

the shape of your sigh,

the weight of your dreams,

the taste of your laugh

in the dark.

when you’d trust me enough,

i’d kiss your scars with my words,

bite your insecurities softly

between conversations,

and hold your secrets

like they were silk on my tongue.

and maybe,

if your eyes begged for it,

i’d undress you slow too.

but i promise —

your mind would be bare

long before your body ever was.

Joy Sullivan, from “These Days People Are Really Selling Me On California”, Instructions for Traveling West

"To feel intensely and with compassion is not a sign of weakness, but the living proof of humanness." - Astrum

Facial Expressions & Emotional Micro-Reactions for Writers

(For those subtle moments when “he frowned” just isn’t enough.)

Tight-lipped — Mouth pressed closed, often from restraint, anxiety, or irritation. Jaw clenched — Tension from anger, fear, or self-control. Eyes narrowed — Suspicion, doubt, or intense focus. Brow furrowed — Confusion, concern, or frustration. Lip twitching — On the edge of a smile… or a snarl. Eye roll — Dismissiveness, annoyance, or teenage energy. Lip biting — Anxiety, hesitation, or suppressed emotion. Nose scrunch — Disgust, confusion, or mild sass. Blinking too fast — Shock, overwhelm, or trying not to cry. Staring blankly — Dissociation, distraction, or emotional overload. Smirking — Confidence, mischief, or sarcasm. Avoiding eye contact — Shame, discomfort, or guilt. Looking down quickly — Vulnerability, embarrassment, or attraction. Shoulders rising slightly — Insecurity, fear, or defensiveness. Forced smile — Pretending, hiding, or surviving the moment.

lets bother mama