Growth
I don’t believe in magic
but I do believe in miracles.
I don’t understand the things I believe in
and maybe that’s a good thing
but on nights like this, I do not know
what is good for me.
I’ve read To Kill a Mockingbird
one hundred times across three summers—
this world and its people grow
more senseless every time.
Every night, I stop to stare at the stars
and convince myself they’re fireflies
because sometimes I need to think
I understand what I can’t reach
and maybe I am tired
of gazing at the ground.
Maybe I’ll never know my heart
or why Tom Robinson had to die and
maybe the color of his skin
has never been the answer.
When I was twelve years old,
they said I’d be six feet by seventeen
and maybe I have spent my lifetime
sprouting toward the stars.
I do not believe in magic
I do not believe in magic
I do not believe in magic
but I do believe in light.
Growing.
Today I finally realised that I no longer have high school as a crutch to fall back on. I’m out. I’m a full citizen of society now. I turned eighteen and left the nest, as it were. And in deciding to postpone university attendance for a year, I’m left with the question: what am I doing?
I know what I want to do. I want to be a writer. It’s an ambitious journey, but something I am very passionate about. But when you tell employers and publishers that, they look at you skeptically and shake their heads. How many people have wanted to be a writer and never done anything about it?
I’m determined not to be one of those people.
For this reason, there is a new page on my blog: Services. Here, I’m offering my writing abilities to be written in a very personal way: for you, and you alone. I will write what you want, when you want, for a small fee. In whatever way you want it. I’m determined to have my writing touch people and move out there. But I can’t write every day all day for free. I’m trying to get overseas, to publish a collection, to be someone older. I need some funds for that.
For this reason, you can find offerances of poetry, prose and the simple ability to donate any funds you might have. I’d be most grateful for anything. I’ve been here for over a year now and I’d like to think I’ve touched some of you. If you like what you read, consider sending a dollar or two.
If you have any feedback on this new direction, please, let me know: too expensive? Too cheap? Not enough options? If you have any ideas, let me know. I want to make this scheme something that is accessible and just.
Sincerely,
Nicky.
Real love—where the grass is greener on the other side,
Always sunny and clear blue skies.
He promised her that, no fingers crossed as he kissed her lips.
Took her hand as he lead her astray.
Two years later, she moves in with him.
A tiny little apartment, but it was just the both of them.
It was good at first, until that night.
He came home drunk at three in the morning.
Told her to strip but she said:
“Honey, no! Just stop! You’re drunk!”
“Shut your mouth woman, just strip and stop worrying!”
He yelled and slapped her and she started to cry.
Tears rolling down her face as she pleaded him to stop.
Angrily he stood up and walked over to the shelf. Pulled out a gun,
And said: “Now woman, will you listen to me now?”
She got up and headed for the door, but the tears in her eyes
Clouded her vision but still she made it there.
“Where are you going?!” he yelled “Did I say you can leave?!”
BANG
She stopped right in her tracks, you would too if you got shot in the back.
She fell to the ground and life was gone in her eyes.
He rushed over to her yelling at himself “What have I done?!”
“I’m sorry Jenny” he sobbed as he looked at her blood covered body, then the gun.
Calmed himself down a bit and put it to his head,
“We’ll die together baby, I’m sorry for the hurt that I’ve caused”
BANG
The last color he saw was red.
Real love—where the grass is greener on the other side,
Always sunny and clear blue skies.
He promised her that, as he laid by her side,
Took her hand as he lead her astray.
Before I was raped
Before I was raped
I saw the world through colors.
A good day was blue like the sky on a crisp spring day-
bright, cheery, light-hearted, and full of promise.
Sad days were grey like my boyfriend’s eyes whenever
his parents had another argument
and his mom had left the house screaming
and brusied.
Grey like those whispery, overcast winter days
when the sky is still-waiting for something to
come and break open the heavy colorless mold.
My best friend was purple because she was so passionate-
about art and school and life. She simply loved loving
and I loved her for it.
That day, was red. Lots of red- for
the fire in your eyes- full of something evil that I didn’t know existed in the world
till that moment.
Red for your heated words against my throat, “You wanted this. Slut!”
Red-
for all the blood. So much…
And now, I don’t see colors anymore.
I guess,
anything that emits or reflects a thing as holy as light would be too pure for my tainted soul.
Anything part of the visible spetrum that holds any truth and clear answers
wouldn’t dare to show it’s face to my corrupted one.
Now, I only see black.
Hueless and
neutral-
offering no answers.
No solace.
Humans.
Humans are funny
In a certain way
they all seek for love
but instead a war they create.
Pretty red flowers
are supposed to be held in our hands
but instead our hands hold blooded scars
and unhealed wounds.
Smiles and laughs,
happiness in short
is what we are supposed to share
but I find myself
sharing nothing but my pain and hurt
and there are many who relate.
Indeed we are all humans,
and humans are funny.
Bookmarked Heart
Bookmarked Heart
By Jean Roy
Like the seventh chapter of
my copy of Gatsby,
She left her bookmark on my heart
so that I would be forced
to flip back to beautiful pages of our story
and relive the same pain
while still hoping the ending would turn out different.
But happily ever after’s are misleading
while fairy tales stories were not intended readings
by broken hearted adults whose ideas of true love are fleeting .
Copyright 2012
All Rights Reserved
A character should not be an emotion
Remember when you were little and watched or read Winnie the Pooh? Eeyore was almost always sad, but occasionally he would experience a small joy or get bored or experience another emotion. Eeyore is probably the most extreme example of a character associated with an emotion, and even he could experience the entire range. He was just usually sad.
Similarly, you should never have a character who is always experiencing a single emotion. Can they be associated with one emotion? Sure! Can they usually be found in that emotional state? Absolutely! Can they experience the same emotion 100% of the time?
No.
Give your depressed people little joys and your happy people small sorrows. It doesn’t matter how many other quirks they have, a character will always be flat and one-dimensional if they can only ever be found in one emotional state. “Emotionless” counts as an emotional state unless they are a robot or similar.
As an added bonus, a character experiencing an emotion that they usually don’t experience can be a good point of drama. These drama points help keep people reading.
The follower of the day is sunnaybunnay. TW: some posts deal with self-harm.
This is not a heart.
Clench
Is one of the worst words I have ever heard.
Listen to it –
Clench.
And then there’s pang.
Pang sounds like a trampoline to me.
They do not describe what my heart does when you say those things or
When you look over at me and I can see your eyes dancing or
When you’re the first thing I see when I get off the bus or
When your arms tighten around me in your sleep or
When I look at you and my heart pumps poetry along my veins
Because
It’s drunker and softer than a clench
Sweeter and sharper than any pang
It bites your lips even as you’re smiling
It steals all the air from your lungs and wraps it around your heart
And sends it, tingling, out to your stomach and fingertips and
I always have to run my hand through my hair and bring myself back into my head
But I never want to
You completely undo me
Release me, explode me out of myself and into the sky and
Nothing could call me back, not for that perfect heart-clench moment
That is nothing like a clench, nor a pang,
and nothing like a heart.
Your lips are not
poetry
neither is your walk
your eyes don’t tell a
story
there are no metaphors
in your heart,
You are not angelic,
I’ve never seen you
in my dreams,
and I don’t want to
run my hands
up your spine
like piano keys,
But my pen
often gets
carried away
with the poetry
of the day-to-day
and too often it ignores
what it can’t define,
what it can’t write into
rhythm and rhyme.
Customizable settings
Do you know what one of the biggest draws of zombie apocalypse-style books is? People often read them so that they can later imagine themselves and a group of their friends in a similar situation. The setting just lends itself to such things. How would you rig a house to keep the zombies out? What weapons would you use? Where would you get your food?
There are several other stories that inspire the same kind of thinking. How would your Pokemon journey go? What items would you alchemize in Homestuck? How would you fight if you were picked for the Hunger Games?
The magic of these types of settings is that it makes people think and talk about what you wrote long after they finish reading it. Not every setting lends itself to speculation like this. The standard fantasy setting, for example, only has room for the heroes in the actual story. They are the chosen ones and nobody else can come. What’s worse is when a map is provided at the beginning of the book that only shows the places the characters go. I don’t know about other people, but I certainly love it when there are unexplored areas on the map that I get to fill in with my imagination.
When the story is still being molded and the setting isn’t firm in your mind, try to think of a way that more than just your main characters can be heroes. Aim for a process where people can become heroes so that literally anybody can become one if they really want to. In Homestuck, for example, all somebody has to do is buy Sburb to engage on the journey. In The Hunger Games, people can volunteer themselves.
It also helps to hint that the story world is bigger than just what the characters have to traverse. Give your readers little areas to call their own that your characters haven’t touched.
The follower of the day is kylasedai, who is awesome and also a person that I follow.
How to unbreak your heart
1. You have to accept the hard truth that your heart is broken and though it is not entirely your fault that you fell in love and your beloved fell out of love for you, you are the only one who can cure you. Your beloved is gone and whatever your hopes and wishes are that he’ll be coming back, it will be easier for you to just understand that when someone you love leaves, there’s a fifty percent chance that he’s coming back and another fifty percent chance that he’s not. You must trust the latter in order not to get your hopes up and further the damage in your heart.
2. Now that you’ve accepted the bitter fact, you must now let go. Slowly. Time heals all wounds, they say, and what is time but a drag. You can never let go of someone so fast that you don’t need the patience of time. But you must learn that when you are in the stage of letting go, you will hurt more, hope more, and dream more. But these are only side effects of the phase you are in. These are only illusions. You must be able to see the vision of a blissful and hurt-free life ahead of you after you’re done here.
3. You must never be bitter although what you’ve went through made you that way. This is a normal thing but it doesn’t mean you have to succumb to the bitterness of your heartbreak. Bitterness leads to nowhere but more heartache and bitterness. You will only cure your heart with patches of lonely and anger. You don’t want that. Your heart don’t want that.
4. If he calls you, never answer. If he sends you a message, delete it before you can even read it. The closure you needed was when he said goodbye and drove off your driveway with smoke trailing from his car. The next closure you need is after you’ve healed your heart, when you’re happy again that you’re single. This is a crucial stage because if you entertain thoughts of him, you will start back to one and the process will be longer and you’ll never move on and heal your broken heart.
5. Be with your friends. Don’t spend time alone. Read a book. Travel to places you’ve never been to. You must do things you weren’t able to do when you were still together. He didn’t like that you eat a lot of ice cream? Eat a quarter gallon while watching that chick flick movie you love and he hates. He didn’t like you wearing too short skirts? Go to the beach and wear a bikini and flaunt that body. He didn’t like you tying your hair in a ponytail? Cut it and don a new hairstyle. Just be merry and soon you will realize how beautiful life is when you are enjoying it without any restrictions.
6. Meet someone new. It is not necessary that you fall in love with him. Just get to know him. Be his friend. Some boys are better off as friends while some can be lovers. If he deserves to be the latter, fall in love with him. You heart’s job is to love and the catch is that it will probably break itself because of loving but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t let your heart love because what is the use of it if you don’t use it for love. Love is the best thing in the world next to snuggling in bed during rainy days but that is not even complete without someone you love with you on the bed. Give your heart a second chance. Give love a second chance.
