In quiet confidence he told me that sometimes he wished
that his morning bus swerved
or he was struck by a car
while crossing a sidewalk
and sometimes people like to pretend they are fine
when really they’re a collection of millions of shattered peices of glass
hoping that someone will come along and
glue them back together
laurenjk asked: Your writing is wonderful :) <3
Thank you so very much :)
Her name is Athelia, but she knows no more than that. She lies on the dirt, muddied by the rain, her hair sticking to her face and neck. There’s clouds up above, dark, heavy with perspiration, and she curls up into herself, much like a child in a fetal position. Voices can be heard from a short distance and she perks up a little, but is still much too weak to move much. She hears her name being called, and tries to move, only to find herself in a puddle of blood that is seeping into the ground around her. Slowly, she gives up and collapses into herself, watching the life fade away between thick eyelashes and raindrops. There are arrows being fired and a battle going on not far away, she knows this, but this battle is her last, and with one more deep breath, she drifts off into the dark.
He firsts opens his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering, those beautiful emerald irises adjusting to the light. I can feel him move, turning over, pulling the sheet over his head to block the light, but it’s too late; he’s been roused. I hear the coffee maker turn on in the room next door, preparing itself for another day. We lay there in silence as the birds outside sing to us. He wraps his arms around me, almost protectively, like a mother would her child. I breathe him in, the smell of cologne and sweat mixing together to create a scent that’s uniquely him. Finally, he speaks. “We’re broken, aren’t we, you and I?” I nod a little, swallowing. The sheets are warm from our body heat and I don’t want to move because I’m so comfortable and at peace, but he’s stirring up emotions again. “But our pasts don’t make us who we are…they just help shape us into becoming who we’re supposed to be,” I respond, not wanting to have this conversation once again. “How can I forget what changed me?” He asks, not expecting an answer, and I give him none but instead watch his chest rise and fall with each breath. “The accident wasn’t your fault,” I say for the millionth time, snuggling a little closer to him for warmth. He gets angry, like expected. “God, damnit, Alex! Yes, it was.” He throws off the covers, exposing me to cold air, and I huddle beneath the blankets, scared. “You promised you’d forget about it and move on,” I remind him softly, but he’s clenching his fists, unmovable.
breannarachel asked: you're an amazing writer! (:
Thanks so very much! :)
Why do I feel like you’re always out of reach? Like, no matter how hard I try to grasp onto you, you pull backwards, refusing. It wasn’t always like this. We used to be inseparable. Maybe we weren’t voted cutest couple of the year and sometimes our friends disagreed that we should be together, but we fought through it. We told each other, “Let’s make this happen.” But now we’re tumbling, falling, and no matter how hard I try to explain it to you time and time again, you refuse to listen. I get the same feeling every time: I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down, so close to falling, teetering on the edge of my heels. Then, comes the plunge…and it’s like I’m submerged underwater, and I can’t breathe, and the water fills up my lungs, drowning me. You tell me I’m being overdramatic, that this time is our last, and I’m scrambling again for feelings and emotions I’m afraid I do not possess to make you feel better. It was always about you, wasn’t it? You said the same about me; that the world revolved around me and that my mood determined yours. How could two people so close become like separate continents? Look at this ocean between us. Tell me it’s killing you too. Tell me that late at night you think of me and all the mistakes you made and inside, you forgive me for the ones I’ve made too. Because I don’t know how much longer I can handle this.
Here I am, once again, so close to falling. I describe this moment to you many times, over and over again, yet you do not believe. You say you must see it to believe it, but how could I let you watch me break? You tell me that you want to see me crumble, that this world wasn’t meant to be fought against. Embrace your emotions, you say. You always pushed me to my limits. Maybe that’s why I kept you around for so long. But I cannot let you watch me shatter. Once exposed, you’ll see who I really am. You’ll see I’m not as tough as I act and that I’m just as sensitive as any other teenage girl. I want to be different, strong, and immobile. Don’t touch me, you’re too close…don’t say those words, I’ll break down and it will be over. This illusion I’ve tried to maintain will fade away and each tear will be a reminder of what I’ve tried so hard to leave behind. Let me be fierce, let me be resilient. Let each breaking blow change me instead of weaken me. For I am not as pathetic as you think I am beneath this façade. I can be just as strong as you. Let me try. Let me fight. Let me win.
ryecatchers asked: i don't know you, but you're a brilliant writer
That’s the absolute best comment you can give me, so thank you so much!
A heart can only be broken so many times before it refuses to comply. Some build walls around it, others let it go to ruin with each falling blow. A heart is a precious thing, the container of all emotions, foremost being love. My heart had seen so much already and experienced beyond what a normal heart should. I was young and let myself run free in a world that I believed had no real restrictions to what a heart could feel. Little did I know that there were limits and boundaries as vast as a sea, but could tighten within moments, threatening to squeeze the very light out of a heart. People wonder why other people turn cold, and what made them that way. I would not blame them if heartbreak turned them sour and left them to contemplate ever loving again. For, a heart is a fragile thing, and not just an organ inside, beating. Without a heart, one cannot live. Without love, one cannot live. So, as I’m sitting here, thinking about you and our hearts and how they beat at different paces like a drummer always being just slightly offbeat, I begin to make boundaries within myself. Here I am, building up walls. A stone for each time you hurt my feelings, another brick for each insult and curse. I’ll blame this on you, but it’s only my way of self-preservation. I want to keep what’s left of my heart untouched and ready for someone who is worthy; someone that won’t tarnish it or break it into two like you did so quickly, so forcefully, too sudden.
oodz asked: I love your blog! You are such a talented writer. I only wish you would write on it more often! ((:
I’ll try! Thanks so much! :)
deoxynicole-deactivated20101108 asked: wow. i am blown away by your creative genius! your writing is amazing and i am so glad i found your blog!
Gosh, thanks so much! :D
gretchens-weiner asked: you are a truely amazing writer<3
i love reading your stories :3
Thank you SO much! Wow :D
desireofagirl asked: i love your blog! <3 =]
Thank you so much! It’s basically all writing though haha
saysthecrow-deactivated20120415 asked: Ah! You have a writing blog too?! This is so awesome, haha :) I only skimmed through, I'll be reading everything in a few, but what I did see looks absolutely amazing! xxxx
Thank you so, so much! <3 I’ll try to update it more often :)