My failure to write

When it comes to you, it comes at 3am. When you are snug in your bed, the thoughts come into your head, rushing in like a mad sea. And there is no place for you to sit and write. You do not have the proper tools and the bed is warm and the world is silent. And so there you lie, thinking all of your thoughts. And then later, when you so have the inclination to sit and attempt to put them down…. They have vanished.

My heart is so broken right now… but I find this is when I do the best writing. I have the best thoughts. I write the best stories. I am inspired by my imagination once again. I summon all my hopes and dreams and fantasies to the surface because I need them. I need something to cling to. Because I feel as though someone has ripped my beating heart from my chest, and I just want the pain to stop. The writing takes me to a place where I can escape from the pain for just a moment. Where I can release it from me… so that I can function. Where I can dream and glue my pieces back together.

I wish you guys could have seen the things I wrote on MySpace. But it’s all gone now. =(

I miss my desktop. I wonder if I should attempt to get another.

writing

 

 

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Anything for love….. But that. 

She loved him. With every fiber of her being, she loved him. All she wanted In Life was to make him smile. He was her sun, her moon and her stars. She would have done almost anything for him. But when someone is doing something to you that hurts you, and they admit to knowing that it hurts you, admit to knowing it’s wrong, and admit to knowing that the thing that drives that is something broken within themselves, and yet they continue the same behavior over and over and over again. And do nothing to attempt to make a change to better themselves, to heal themselves, They are CHOOSING to hurt you. All the while apologizing, whispering words of love, practicing actions of love, and showering you with gifts. That isn’t love. It is something else. 
She realized after a time, that no amount of love she gave, no amount of patience, would ever change anything. And that the pain she felt constantly was of her own doing, simply because she CHOSE to continue to allow it.

So she chose to walk away. It did not mean that her love for him had changed. It simply meant that her love for herself had changed. There would still be pain, but it would fade over time. She would miss all the things about him she loved and long for them, but she would not miss the things that hurt. She would not hurt. 

She loved him. He was her sun and her moon and her stars. She would have done almost anything him. But masochism was not her cup of tea, and she was quite full up. Time to leave that universe behind and return to earth. 


(Photo by Kirsti Mitchell Photography) The Distant pull of remembrance from The Wonderland series