I promised some actual writing, so here it is. I'm going to be brave and lay the worst of me on a platter for you (whoever you may be). As I'm sure a lot of writers would say- the worst of you always seems to produce the best writing- or is that just me? Either way here are a few carefully selected segments of my random writings over the past four years. I started writing random thoughts at uni and have built up over 7000 words of thought. Usually about my crap love life. To clarify these were all written when I was unhappy, or happy and being melodramatic. Take each word with a pinch of salt- I'm not really this depressing, it just makes for better writing. And looking back I realise how lucky I am now to have Antony (the boy) in my life. Anyway, enough mushy talk, here is the worst of me.
Tuesday 7th June 2005, 01:24
And so she is home, comforting herself with empty spaces, knowing the complications aren’t in this house. She warms up to her inner voice, smiles at the faces she wants to see. The faces she wants to block become like recurring nightmares, scenarios playing over in her head while the birds tease her to insanity. At least there is safety in the knowledge that they are all far away, both in distance and in time.
Saturday 13th May 2006, 17:18
This gaping space has become horrifyingly normal for her. She stares at the cracks on the wall whilst a numbness hits her hard. These painful dreams, these reincarnated tears, these broken record memories are wearing her thin. Injecting hearts onto her arm brings a smile before the jealousy rips it back. Her awkward hurt is now a companion. Something to hold to when there is nothing. Blank thoughts dance across the screen while the vague knife stabbing her does so without question nor answer. Shattered pieces of her pleasant memories get strewn across the town for her to photograph like a tourist.
Tuesday 29th August 2006, 18:37
The only thing raging in her chest is anger. Anger at him smothered in confusion. How dare he make her fears reality? How dare he throw her back to the wolves? What right does he have to crush her, what right do any of these men have? After doubting herself she screams to songs and allows the anger to flow. She screams at the self abuse, she screams at every thought leading her down that path, she screams for every scar on her body.
Sunday 11th March 2007, 16:59
There are no more tears to cry for the moment, she is sore and weary from drowning. Hope of this ending, hope of a release has died. Suffocated from her own breath, she sends a coffin full of hope off like a paper boat in a never ending sea. Slowly it falls into the distance as she accepts her fate. And what a fate it is. Collapsed on a bed of dreams she remains fallen. She accepts the pain and stares into it with no fear. She is beyond fear. She is beyond everything.
Friday 25th January 2008, 17:58
What to do on this remaining scrap of innocence? Begging to be defaced, determined to die dirty. With what graffiti to mark this canvas with? Words of wonder elude her as the irritant of strangers after her services grows. Just words she thinks. Destroy it with words and the actions will follow.
Sunday 18th May 2008
She has figured herself out. She is a writer that cannot spell. She is an artist trapped inside the body of someone that can’t draw. She is a creative that lacks the talent to transform her dreams into realities. There is only frustration, no fruition. This is all about to change she whispers to herself. Everything around her is dusty, begging to be cleaned. A new chapter is opening up. Change is upon her, and finally- finally, she embraces it. She revels in it in fact, it is becoming a new hobby. Routine and formalities have driven her to stagnant waters. She looks forward to newly appointed challenges and makes a pact with herself. Do it now, do it before it’s too late.
Thursday 12th June 2008, 01:33 AM
How can music do that? Reach into the bottom of your soul and reveal to you long forgotten emotions. God she loves it. These early hours are the best, when all are asleep but her and her new best friend- Mr Joslin. Oh how you move her, recreate tears that fell years ago. She thought they had died, gone forever- but you found them. You have decorated her sketched face with the artful little shapes. You are reminding her what her calling is, showing her it needn’t all be electrical nonsense- just passion. And her loves, (oh her loves), losses and continuing loneliness, you’ve found them too. Her mind is shooting scenes every second- various men take their turn in the role of leading man. He’s in bed with her and holds onto her naked skin for dear life. And you, good sir, are their soundtrack, and you are infuriating their imaginary passion and her real hurt. She thanks you for it, truly, nothing has moved her this far for years indeed. I think it was the push she needed to finally approach the belly of the beast. ..and secretly enjoy it.
Wednesday 30th July 2008, 12:29 AM
The lower half of her body has lost feeling. Sometimes she wonders if she will be able to walk again. Stuck in limbo she looks inwards for inspiration and entertainment. Her daydreams, as usual, provide the best. Another love interest has entered her life- but like so many others, he is planning to leave. Another relationship that will die prematurely. Perhaps the stranger she runs into every three years is the one for her. Fate certainly seems to want them to meet- how else would he have found her after all these years?
Her boredom needs a new word, the current one doesn’t begin to explain. She has too much time to think and at times she wonders if she will loose her mind. Thankfully all this is giving her fingers incentive to type, to record, to provide evidence. For if she truly disappears, as she fears she will, at least this will stand as proof. She lived! She wrote! She loved! She slept.
Monday 3rd November 2008, 15:47
He walks tall and with a purpose. His smile when he sees her is all she thinks about. When she’s with him all she feels is calm and supreme relaxation- there are no games being played here, no false words or stomach flips. When she sees his passions surface she smiles to herself. A man without passion or dreams is one without love. He has opened her eyes to a bigger world and reunited her with her own love for life and the accompanying soundtrack. His knowledge and fierce intelligence astounds her. His caring hands wrap around her instinctively. And she loves it.
Her romantic history to date has been full of hurt and bad luck…he has become her lucky charm, changing all of it in an instant. Others have tossed her to one side- but she thanks them for that, she was put there for him to find. Even fate seemed to want them to meet- bringing them together again and again in chance meetings over the years. Well, she thanks you fate for leading him to her. She knew there was a plan behind your games and is glad to finally see what it was. It was you.
