'Lissa Stufflestreet
Bio
I'm just a daydreaming college student who's been manifesting becoming a writer since I was five. I never stick to just one writing genre (and typically write dark content). | she/they
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Stories (264)
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The Reason I Write
I guess you could say that I have the passion for writing in my genetics. Quite a few of my family members all have had the passions for writing, but the one person who sticks out the most for me is the man I felt the closest to as I was growing up; my father.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Journal
The Life of Dylan Mackenzie
273 My eyes stared down at the number that popped up on the little scale I was standing on praying that it would just jump down about one hundred pounds. A gloomy feeling washed over me as I stepped off. Whatever. I don’t care. Why should I care about a stupid number? I felt my body lift up as I got back up on that scale once more. A huge sigh of disappointment flushed over me as the numbers 273 jumped back up onto the small screen just sitting slightly above my toes. “Please go down,” I found myself whispering to the scale as if it’ll respond back.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Fiction
Taken
The room was dark. I reached my arms out as far as they could stretch searching for a weapon with zero luck. The floor beneath me felt hard and rough; almost like a basement flooring. My screams only came out muffled and something had been wrapped tightly around my legs that just hurt anytime I would try and move them. Where was I? The room smelled kind of funky; almost as if someone had died just days before in this very room. Panic began to fill my insides. I had a sudden urge to scream but I just couldn’t seem to let it escape my lips.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Fiction
The Last Dance
No matter how many times you take yourself out of an equation, that sole memory will always remain. It's been five years since we shared our last dance on the frozen pond behind your mother's house, yet I've been playing the memory over and over again as if it had just occurred yesterday. It's been five years of me pleading for you to come back, of me pleading for your return.. and although I know you will never come back, I can't ever find myself to allow myself to move on. Five years. Five years since our last dance. The last time we held hands. The last time we shared a kiss. Dammit Claudia, why did you have to go? You promised me you'd stay. You promised me that you'd get better. You promised. We were supposed to grow old together. We had plans to grow old together, watching the sky change colors as you laid your head on my shoulder. You weren't supposed to end your story before the climax, Deb.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Fiction
Signs That You Might Have a Toxic Best Friend
If you are here, most likely you’re curious. Don’t worry. It’s not an uncommon thing to have a toxic person enter your life. Don’t be ashamed if you never realized it before — sometimes it could take years for a person to catch on to what's really going on with who they thought was their best friend.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Humans
I Love(d) You.
I miss the fact that he never got to see most of my biggest accomplishments; entering high school, graduating, becoming an adult.. or even becoming a teenager. I hated the fact that everyone got to have a father see them grow up into the young adult they always dreamt their daughter would become, while I never got a chance to have that.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Families
It Only Takes One..
The afternoon started off so perfect. After the long, stressful week I've had, Thomas knew exactly what it was that I was needing to help destress. We began our day with extra large milkshakes with a little bit of rum mixed in. I was hesitant but Thomas insisted that the rum made it taste so much better. After that, we found ourselves wandering around the museum of art trying to figure out how many pieces of art we could understand at just the first glance. I kept noticing how often Thomas would add more rum to every drink he'd consume, but I kept brushing it off. Obviously he would know his own limits.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Fiction
