Reader. Writer. Romantic.

Posts tagged ‘personal’

My Apology

I never knew true loneliness until I had a companion, until I met you. Every night, every day I depended on our conversations. I never knew how important you were to me until I lost you. Though we were never that close and never spoke as much as we had in the last two weeks, I felt that I could trust you. There were things we talked about, things I told you that I’ve never told another person. Maybe I’m a fool for having trusted you, but I always believed that I should trust until my faith in you was disproven.

Last night we exchanged some heated words. Not in anger. But in fear. I was afraid and like Will Graham, fear made me rude. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel guilty about who you were or what you wanted to do. I know that I want those things, but would never have the impulsive courage to pursue them. I was afraid that I would lose what little self I had left and though I trusted you, I overreacted and said some things I now regret. I will never blame you for anything that happen, it was my own inexperience that led to this riff. If only you knew, how much I grew to love you in these last few weeks. If only you knew how desperately I clung to the idea of you and I, but my sense of propriety stopped me, as it always has. In these last few weeks, I’ve given away a part of myself. A part of me I’ll never get back. A part of me that no one else can have. It’s yours and it will always be yours. There was a void before I met you, an emptiness I thought could never be filled. I never thought I’d meet someone who had the same private interests as myself and I don’t think I ever will. I didn’t realize what I had in you until I lost you.

Most people drown themselves in alcohol and tears, wallowing in self-pity and despair, but I drowned myself in poetry and songs and moon cake. I kept replaying this song over and over, until the tears flooded my eyes and my heart felt a dull ache. I kept replaying this song to keep you in my head. This is the closest I’ve been to heartbreak. You have become one of the people I care most about. And in doing so I’ve allowed you to hurt me in a way no one else can. It’s the people you love most that cause you the most pain. The tears I shed last night in fear are nothing compared to the ones I shed now. “I couldn’t really blame you if you turned and walked away, but with everything I fee inside, I’m asking you to stay.”

You were my muse as much as the Patron of my Heart was. He appealed to my traditional values.  You, you were something else. You brought out the side of me, you brought out the part of me that was only seen in my novels and poetry. You amplified and refined my art. The Patron of my Heart could never do that. He confined me to ideals, confined me to a societal construction in a way you never did. You set my heart free. You made me feel freedom again.

I’m such a cerebral person that not only do I overreact, I overthink. Every word means a million other things. Every word leads to a million what ifs. When you said you were giving up, did you mean in me? Did what I say make it so you no longer wanted to be friends?

Tonight I feel a familiar dull ache. I told you once I was afraid of being hurt. This familiar loneliness, the inability to accept that there is someone who actually cares for me has returned. I can no longer see my worth or my beauty. This has become the heartbeat of my life. This is the taste of sadness.

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When I say goodbye

Sometimes I get so discouraged
And I wonder if there is something wrong with me.
Sometimes I give into the pressures of society, parents, friends and family
Because I’m too weak to keep fighting them

Sometimes I get into the car and I think
I’ll never be able to control this
This urge to destroy
This urge not to revert to my natural tension

It’s harder than a word
A thought
Or a sound

Control
Relax

Some mornings I wake up alert
Only to find myself fatigued so much so
That I can hardly function

I find my patience wearing thin
The laughter that once laced my words
Replaced with bitter tears
Feelings known only by someone
who has never known the world
And only my heart

Someone who has never left my head
And filled my heart
With wonder and affection

Now I find solace in what never was
Now I find comfort in my dreams
Reality has no place for the likes of me
Theory has always been the place for me
But yet I have never belonged

Neither here
Nor there

I am no philosopher
No academic by the stretch of the imagination
I am an artist
But yet
I am not

My art is mediocre at best
My voice too imperfect
The poetry and stories
Filled with aspirations unrealized

I am to be impartial
Yet I fear to be judged

How can I rule fairly
When I worry about thoughts
Words
And Sounds

How can I be anything great
If I keep on worrying

I feel the pressure to be useful
Even in death
My body will not be my own
But to help those in need

I don’t wish to be remembered
But it’s worse to be forgotten

What legacy will I leave behind?
What have I already done?

What will this world remember when I have gone?
Will materialism consume it all?
And breakdown the world in my heart?

If I have learned anything it is this:
We have created a society where only one can thrive
If you cannot fit into this box
Do not try

Quote

“Before I met y…

“Before I met you I forgot what true happiness felt like. I never believed I was beautiful until your smile touched my lips.”
-Alcina Fong (moirasterling)-

Work in Progress

So recently I’ve been working on a new piece. It was supposed to be about affairs that the main character has as she is going through university, but apparently what I’ve done (and learned) in my detective fiction class had different ideas. Now it’s turned into a murder mystery, but I still want to go with my idea of the affairs as a way of exhibiting and exploring female autonomy and sexuality. However, the problem is, is that the story may become too long for one book or too disjointed to be included all in one novel. This is also the first time I’ve broken the book up into chapters, so it’s a bit weird for me to write. If I serialize it then it’ll be a while before I get to the part I really want to write about and again, something new for me. Right now I’m having trouble writing the next part. This, in part may be because I’m writing it up on the computer. I’ve always had difficulty writing what I consider “good writing” on a computer. I’ve always had to write by hand before I type it up, which is in a way how I edit my work. The computer is incredibly strenuous on my eyes and I prefer writing by hand. As I once said, “The pen is personal, the computer critical.” That is true when it comes to writing my essays as well. I’ve never been able to write up an essay by hand and have it amount to a good critical piece. It is perhaps that my critical essays must be typed up to be handed in that it’s become a habit, while I’ve been writing creatively since I was five and access to a computer was a luxury.

Maybe story boarding might be a good idea, especially since there are going to be so many characters and subplots. I’ll also need to sit down and decide on some GOOD character names, especially for the main character. I don’t like her name, but I’ve always had ways of coming up with weird nicknames for them which I fall in love with. I also love playing with meanings of names as a way of building the character, just as the humours were used to establish personality traits for characters during the early modern period.

Despite being stuck, I want to keep writing this novel and I don’t want to do anything else other than write. And the problem is, is that I have an essay on torture, homosexuality and Edward II due in a week. That I haven’t started on. I’ve spent the whole day reading sources for my essay and I don’t want to know anymore about this topic. No, it’s not gruesome or anything like that, but has anyone tried reading 20 pages of Holinshed’s Chronicles?! HONESTLY!!!!!!! I have given up on reading it for the most part. I’ll come back to it later, maybe just reading the parts in which Edward is murdered and comparing that to the play. But I’ll definitely have to reread the play…that’ll be fun!

Oh yeah and I have a book review to finish. For the most part, it’s done. I just have to bring it to class for a final workshop, fix it up for Wednesday and DONE! But the Edward essay isn’t going to be like that. I have the nitpickiest teacher for this class. At least I didn’t fail the last essay. Although it did take her a month to mark a 1000 word essay. I mean, seriously?! I get that you had to edit a book, but it’s not like students have to take five courses that involve writing 3 essays due for the same day and work or anything crazy like that. I’ll just be happy to be done this course. I just want to graduate. And not with a GPA burning in hell…if possible. The end is near. And I’m definitely in fear.

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