It Can’t Be Undone | Guest Post ft. Zimi Zans

GUEST POST ft. Zimi Zans

Hi guys!

So today’s post isn’t gonna be one of my usual posts, today we have the incredible Zimi from Running Wild on the Streets of Vegas go check her out if you haven’t already, she’s amazing and her blog is super cool!!! I’m truly happy that she’s here today!!! WOOHOO!!! 😆😆😆 So she wrote a short story for this quest post and she’s gonna share it with us today!!!! Here we go:


Rose had been the girl of one’ dreams. She was what you would call perfect. She was beautiful with her petite waist and tanned complexion. She seemed like the princess from any fantasy, but was she really the Rose she pretended to be? Or was that all a show?

Ms. Garcia, Rose’s mother, shaped her daughter into utter perfection with her high grades and popularity. Rose was the girl who every girl in her school wanted to be. Every girl except herself. Her existence was all that mattered in school, even her notorious acts were graced with laughs and claps of approval. No teacher or student ever rose their voice at her impolite accusations. Surprisingly, this did faze Rose. All she ever wanted was for someone to tell her she was wrong and that the acts she pulled off were totally unforgivable, but no one did that because no one dared to.

She wanted to befriend those who truly cared about what she thought and did, not those who screeched every time she changed her hairstyle or wore new clothes. Even though others thought she was perfect, SHE knew she wasn’t. Her mother’s definition of ‘perfection’ wasn’t something she ever wanted to be, but it was as if fate had forced it on her. She obeyed her mother like a monkey obeying its master and even though she hated to do it, it somehow felt right after her father left them. However, it wasn’t her father’s departure than softened Rose’s behavior towards her mother. It was something else. Maybe she pitied her mother? Maybe she obeyed her commands because of the cries her little-self heard across the room? Maybe it were those broken memories of her mother being beaten into a pulp that sprang back as a nightmare each night?

Rose hated the feeling of being weak and that became the reason to her boldness. That was the reason that she hadn’t told her mother about those horrible nightmares that taunted her every night. She didn’t want to look weak, especially in front of her mother. Rose didn’t like her mother very much, at least now, but she did have some humanity to not hurt her anymore. What was there to worry about now, right? Ms. Garcia had become a renowned lawyer after her husband betrayed her and she’d had countless numbers of affairs in the country. She forced her rules on everyone, even Rose, and Rose, like any other teenager, tried her best to resist it.

Judging your daughter’s friends; forcing her to study until the sun made its way to the outline of the mountains and then making her run a thousand miles just to keep her fit, this wasn’t something a usual mother would do. But Ms. Garcia yearned perfection and so she got it. Rose’s words of denial were always subsided by her mother’s persuasive and bitter words. Her mother was barbaric and remotely unmoved. Rose pushed herself beyond limits and tried harder every day but it came to no avail. She felt weak, a feeling she hated the most. It felt as if the pressure kept increasing and one day, the pressure reached its highest peak where everything seemed unbearable, it was the point of destruction. It reached the point where Rose would bawl her eyes out until sleep consumed every fiber in her body. It had reached to such an extent that she began stealing zip lock bags from dealers in her school. She begged them for mercy until they gave in and supplied her with what she craved. She hid behind bushes during lunch and sniffed till the world turned dark and till a teacher found her unconscious with a bleeding nose. Her mother didn’t care and neither did she know. How would she know if she was too

busy talking to her lovers? How would she know if she never returned home till three in the morning? Why would she care if all she wanted were high grades and a famous, beautiful daughter?

Rose’s friends, obviously, didn’t care, either. Yes, they did help her with school work and shopping and everything but of course they didn’t know that while they taught her the various functions of graphs, she would think about how a knife would feel against her wrist and how it would feel to finally be on the verge of ending all her miseries. How would they know if they never asked? Weren’t best friends supposed to ask how you feel? Actually, weren’t they already supposed to know? There were times when she did hold a knife to her wrist, it felt good and promising to her, but abruptly a wave of emotion would hit her and she would feel weak. These were the nights when she would dig her manicured nails into her scalp until it bled and she would curl up into a ball and just hope for her to never see the ugly sunshine again.

After sometime the zip lock bags were the only thing found in Rose’s backpack, instead of books, and she would sniff with pure ecstasy until darkness embraced her and until the drug took over her fragile body. Her mother would always see her daughter cuddled up in a blanket when she returned home, but she never saw the other side where the paper which held, what had now become Rose’s life, the substance originated from the zip bags as is skimmed the soft skin of her daughter’s nose.

Ms. Garcia wouldn’t ever touch Rose. She never hugged her daughter like a normal mother would. She wouldn’t kiss her on the cheeks or wipe her tears to assure her everything would be fine. But wasn’t Ms. Garcia the reason to all the problems?

The zip lock bags, the sniffing, it all ended the day fate decide to give in to Rose’s desire. Death. The drug had consumed each and every living cell in Rose’s petite frame. The damage was done and now, there was no way Rose would return back. Even if Ms. Garcia caressed Rose’s cheeks and held the limp body in her arms, it wasn’t going to get her back. Neither were the silent prayers of the school students who patiently waited in the reception to hear just one thump of Rose’s heart. This wasn’t going to happen.

Because it just couldn’t be undone!

So that was the story, thank you so much for being here today Zimi, I’m so happy to have you here!!! 😆😆😆 She writes SO WELL, that story was so amazing, it really got my jaw on the floor. She really has a special talent for writing, it’s amazing how she gathers ideas and thoughts and then puts them into a story, absolutely incredible!!! I really hope you guys liked her story, because I loved it!!! 

Now I’m gonna put here her social links so you can follow her:


TWITTER: @Schmidt_smritz

INSTAGRAM: @schmitis

Hope you guys liked this post and see you next time, bye!!!

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19 thoughts on “It Can’t Be Undone | Guest Post ft. Zimi Zans

  1. You know what??? I love ya foe being so sweet!! I’m going to cry so bad!! Thanks for all your support, really means a lot to me!!! 😁😁😁😁😁😓😓😓😓😓😓😝😝😝😝😉😉😄😄

    Liked by 1 person

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      • OMG 😊😂😊😂😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😂😂😂😊😂😊😂😂😊😂😉😉😉😉😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😯😯😯😯😯😯😯😯😯😅😅😅😅😅😅😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😢😢😢😢😬😬😬😬😉😆😆😆😉😂😊😂😊😂😂😂😂😊😂😊😂😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😉😉😆😆😆😆😅😅😅😅😅😆😆😆😆😆😅😅😅😅😅😅😉😅😊😊😀😃😀😃😀😃😃😀😃😀😃😀😃😀😃😀😃😀😃😁😄😁😄😁😄😁😄😁😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😉😉😉😉😉😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😯😯😯😯😯😯😯😯😯😅😅😅😅😅😅😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😢😢😢😢😬😬😬😬😉😆😆😆😂😊😂😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😉😉😆😆😆😆😅😅😅😅😅😆😆😆😆😉😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😉😅😉😅😉😅😉😅😉☺😃☺😃☺😂😂😊😂😊😂😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😊😂😂😊😂😂😊😂😊 I GUESS YOU WON!


      • HAH! I don’t think so…😆😆😆😆😆😆😁😊😊😃😉😉😄😉😊😊😞😞😂😂😆😁😁😃😃😉😉😄😊😊😁😁😅😂😂😞😞😊😊😃😉😉😅😆😂😂😞😊😊😃😃😉😄😅😅😂😂😊😊 You won my hands are tired!

        Liked by 1 person

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