Evan

Joined June 2021

9 stories

Bio

Down for it all, then back up til’ I fall again

My muse is my fiancée Rosse, and the confident music she produces from a place of eager artistry.

https://open.spotify.com/artist/0rUWPf3mbRGeUusm1P3Z4i?si=ZP8pJ7knQQevYlDtz8kFgQ

Stories (9)

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Loophole out of the Madness
Stereotypically, “adulting right” consists of a lot of bare-minimum, seemingly just-average days being our most chaotic where we itch and claw at the insides of our heads to escape out. I find myself seriously impaired - as if an unknown force is stirring life this way or that, barking such a loud commotion until I’ve found even the most basic of things that should provide comfort, are hassles just to figure out and follow through on. It isn’t hard to recognize the number one battle in young adults today will always boil down to: income stability, a maintained mental health, and on top of those, finding a way to contribute to the world in a meaningful way (all the while trying to find a joy through these processes). “So what, huh?” you may ask, when it’s so easy to point out obvious struggles - without providing much more to it than that. This however is my first effort to provide more to it than that; this is a letter is to my young adults of any age range that can relate. I truly believe there is a set of standards that has not been so easily provided to us through written lessons, but just as easily, is out there, and does seem to offer a set of standards for life if we lived by we could find joy through the mundane. By no means do I aim to take shot at any functioning members of society by discrediting hard work when hard work is apparent, or to discredit anyone’s choice in life, or will I be discussing any specific faith as I think we all have our own welded ideas that won’t leave our brains - let me share with you my theory, based on my story, on a loophole out of the madness.
By Evan4 years ago in Motivation
Colors
Another January came, yet in distant Januarys past, the rising orange sun was indicative of spirits sprung high with hope -- individuals would be inspired to apply aspirational changes to their lives when a new year began. For the past decade, however, setting suns struggled to protrude out of a smog that viscerally seemed to grow darker each moment that passed.
By Evan4 years ago in Fiction
Colors
Another January came, yet in distant Januarys past, the rising orange sun was indicative of spirits sprung high with hope -- individuals would be inspired to apply aspirational changes to their lives when a new year began. For the past decade, however, setting suns struggled to protrude out of a smog that viscerally seemed to grow darker each moment that passed.
By Evan4 years ago in Fiction
Colors
It was the beginning of another January, yet in distant Januarys past, the rising orange sun was indicative of spirits sprung high with hope -- a time when individuals would apply aspirational changes to their lives with a new year’s beginning. However, the past decade seemed only capable of setting suns that struggled to protrude out of a smog, that viscerally grew a darker shade, each moment that passed.
By Evan4 years ago in Fiction
The birth of a Black Rose
A great white circled above them, while a loud call aiming at nothing specific was made from a whale across the sea. They sat across each other at a long marble table, meant only for the two. They were underneath outstanding glass he had built to hold back the ocean’s weight from caving in on her. Which ocean - Rosse couldn’t say for sure - but for a decade and some change, she had been held captive in this farfetched sunken facility, with no means for escape.
By Evan4 years ago in Fiction
Colors
It was the beginning of another January, yet in distant Januarys past, the rising orange sun was indicative of spirits sprung high with hope -- a time when individuals would apply aspirational changes to their lives with a new year’s beginning. However, the past decade seemed only capable of setting suns that struggled to protrude out of a smog, that viscerally grew a darker shade, each moment that passed.
By Evan4 years ago in Fiction
Elements
The unyielding tiny knocks on the roof of the car had persisted long enough that she may as well just given up and let the flood in. Her love was like the rain in that, neither had the chance to stay long (despite that unyielding persistence), before being buried into the ground, and later, sprung from the clouds anew. The engine and lights shut off once the courage to turn the key halfway sunk in, with music kept on as an excuse for the rain and her to listen to. Without it, there was just a concurrent drum-line that would hit along lacking any fluidity or rhythm. Neither knew where the solo orchestra may lead by the end of the night.
By Evan4 years ago in Confessions
Bodies In The Barn
A cult suicide was nothing ground breaking these days, it happened often. But this one specifically had a gut-wrenching horror stitched to it the second Beth walked in to do her job. Calling it a “suicide” was still heavily politically debated on, but to Beth, a bunch of lifeless teenagers on the ground of this abandoned barn she had just walked into, had said enough.
By Evan5 years ago in Fiction
Colors
Another January came around, yet in a distant Januarys past, the hued mounting sun was likewise indicative of spirits lifting - a time society openly celebrated this embarking into an unknown chaos and wonder from their time ahead. For the past twenty-three years however, setting suns struggled to scratch against an oozed smog, that likened to a spill from a child’s knocking over of something, seemingly getting thicker and more atramentous each moment that passed.
By Evan5 years ago in Fiction

Evan

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Loophole out of the Madness

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The birth of a Black Rose

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Elements

Bodies In The Barn

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Stories (9)