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“Writing is such an ordinary enough occupation
Yet how precious it is
If writing did not exist
What terrible depressions should we suffer”— ~ The Pillow Book -
Untitled.
She had finally made it to the park as she ran away from home an hour ago. She crouched on the damp grass, weeping uncontrollably in the dark. Her sobs became crystal clear in the emptiness.
It had been hell for her.
For nineteen years of her life, she had to bear all her sufferings so much so, she could only bottle up everything within her and pretended to be normal everyday. But tonight, she had enough. Enough of being judged upon, abused, insulted and being alone. She was alone. She had always been. No one heard her cries for help. No one.
Deep inside, she was certain that she had to end the hell she had been facing. She knew she was worthless. A burden to her family. An attention seeker to her friends. And she just had to finish this off once and for all.With trembling hands, she reached into her pocket and grabbed the rusty penknife, which she had taken with her.
‘This is it,’ she muttered as she placed it onto her left wrist, preparing to cut it deep into her flesh.“Stop!” A voice boomed.
Surprised, she dropped her penknife and looked around. But no one was there.
Droplets of perspiration started to trickle down her forehead.Whence came that… voice?
She then mustered up all her courage and picked up the penknife from the ground.
“Don’t Samantha. You’re not alone. You’re never alone. I’m always here. I’ve always been.”
The voice had now became calmer and… loving.
A light shone ever so brightly down on her from the dark sky as she looked up. And then it struck her.She dropped the penknife and fall onto her knees. Tears started trickling down her cheeks, but this time, it wasn’t tears of despair. Instead, it was tears of hope.
The Truth.
It’s the Truth.
She had finally found the Truth.***
This is such an an awkward prose/writing I’ve ever written. Something’s amiss but I can’t be bothered. Okay bye. -
Have you ever cut yourself to see what the fuss is about? Have you ever wished for the will power to starve yourself even after seeing someone completely waste away? Have you ever wished for cancer just for the sympathy? Is the only reason you’ve wished for life after death just so you can see who comes to your funeral, who cries?
Have you ever admitted those thoughts to anybody else?
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Frank Sinatra Has a Cold by Gay Talese. Esquire, April 1966.
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Waking
I took a step away from the hissing pancakes, walking right into him. His arms encircled my waist and three kisses traced my shoulder, sending chills up my spine.
My room is dark. His body was just a piled of pillows, his arms are roping sheets and his kisses are the cool breeze from an open window.
6/3/12
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Awakening.
Below is my final writing piece for ‘Introduction Creative Writing’ in the form of a short story. After weeks of tweaking, I think I am finally happy enough to stand back from it and present it to the world - please don’t judge it too harshly, I poured my soul into this; enjoy.
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Where i talk about what i thought of Prometheus and my ever growing love for Michael Fassbender.
There’s some fashion stuff lurking about on the blog too if film’s not your thing! Check it outtt
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Time to go shower then, dressed and eat something, and go to Kaylas house while the rest of my family is at hard rock Casino.
I could have stayed home alone, but I’d rather spend time with my kitty c’:
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Moments that I want to remember (even if some of them haven't happened yet):
- Alt prom 2012
- Meeting Emily
- Going to prom WITH SAM :D
- Doing a duet with Sam
- Senor’s partayy
- Meeting the senior class of 2012 at my school
- Hugging Sara Penna
- Eating some fucking good cheesecake
- The various writings that Hannah has shared with me since I met her
- My first kiss
- Being on the Ellen show
- Meeting J.K. Rowling
- ALL of the various elements of Harry Potter
- The feeling of graduation from high school
- and college.
- Getting accepted to AAG and College
- As many funny moments with my sister as I can.
- And/Or my family
- And/Or my friends.
