Writer Stuff - Blog Posts

#57

How many of us look for love, all around the world, and yet so few of us seem to find it? We are all hungry, and desperate, and lonely, are we not? 

What keeps us away from this love?

Is it our choices, our destiny, or simply repentance for the mistakes we made a thousand lifetimes ago?

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#56

Writing and words are all that keep me going. I cry and bleed and yell and scream through my words, each one cutting me as sharp as a blade. 

If I cannot live the life I wanted to, then I shall live it through the sorrows and joys of words. Words and books and poems and characters for all those feelings that were never felt. 

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#55

My heart aches so profoundly and so deeply for a love that I do not have, for a love that might not even exist.

And yet I hope. Hope for someone, anyone, to come and whisk me away from this hell we call home. Even numbing the pain has not helped, for all I have succeeded in doing is numbing my heart. Numbed and frozen and preserved the charred and broken remains of it I will be surprised if it thaws at all. For all my heart and soul have ever known is an eternal winter so frigid and cold it needs the strongest of fortresses to keep the cold out. 

But now I fear that I have blocked too much out. People, places, things, feelings. And I do not know how to open the castle I sealed so meticulously. The castle that was once glimmering with hope and love and joy, has been reduced to nothing but ashes and dust, and the sad, sorry remains of my broken and breaking heart. 

I do not know when I shall recover, if ever at all. 

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#54

How can I crave and yet despise love so deeply and at the same time? I hunger for someone’s touch to be so gentle and reverent, yet I squander the chance by pushing them away simply because my body cannot stand it. Because I feel sick at the sight of love. At the idea that someone could love me as I am. That there is not a single aspect of me that is not ruined and mangled so thoroughly the only solution would be to end me entirely and erase me from existence. As if I have not tried a thousand times already, and will not try a thousand times more. All my attempts have been futile, yet another painful reminder that I am a failure no matter what I do. Even ending something simple as my own life has been too great a task for my traitorous body to follow. 

That does not mean I do not think of it. I always do. Of what it would feel like to simply…cease to exist. To be gone from the human realm, to be released from these shackles of mortality that have done nothing but ruin. To simply break free and disappear. To hide, and never come out. From others or from myself, I do not know. I do not think I will accept it either way. My body has, and yet my bruised heart cannot. Stupid thing. It knows what I cannot have and yearns for exactly that. It will drive me mad. Perhaps it already has. It does not know that the poison it has been living off of has finally begun to affect it in the most horrendous ways imaginable. Hallucinations, heartaches. And pain. So much pain it is a miracle I am alive at all. A miracle my parents have not woken up to my corpse, drained, and lifeless and pale, with unseeing eyes on the floor of my house with a knife clutched in my now-dead hands. And yet I continue to live. To torture myself day after day, week after week. Nothing happens. Nothing changes. And yet I do. Why?

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#53

I cannot tell if my hands are stained with

Blood or paint,

Charcoal or soot,

Ash or fire.

All I know

Is that they are covered

With something unearthly

And I try

I scream, scratch, claw at myself

But I cannot rid myself of this

I cannot tell if my hands are stained with

Blood or paint,

Charcoal or soot,

Ash or fire.

All I know

Is that they are covered

With something unearthly

And I try

I scream, scratch, claw at myself

But I cannot rid myself of this

For it has embedded itself into my soul

And it refuses to come out.

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#52

By the graceful, gilded light of fame My heart calls your name again.

For love keeps me going And money cannot fill the void

Not as deeply

Or as fully

As your soul does.

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#51

Not mine to lose nor mine to keep, I fell into a love so deep.

A love so unfathomably wild, I truly am nature’s lunatic child.

Poems, songs, even life itself, Shall never compare to your stunning self.

I thank the Gods everyday For blessing me with a love so great.

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#50

I crave you, the taste of you, the feeling of you, and of your presence, more than I crave air, more than I crave life itself. Because you are life, and you are the light that this wicked, wretched world does not deserve. That I do not deserve, and never will. But rest assured that I will do everything in my power and beyond to be worthy of your love, every day until the die my heart stops beating. Rest assured that when it does, it will be with my name on your lips as fate drains the life out of me. And even then, fate will not keep us apart. I will find you in a thousand different lives, again and again, because we both know, and the world knows, that our souls were meant to be together. The day they are separated is the day that the fires of hell will unleash themselves upon this Earth, and I will be content to watch it burn. For you, I would ruin myself, do anything you asked of me. You tell me to drive a knife into my own heart and I will do it, if it means that you will loathe me or love me. 

I would wage wars the likes of which this world, nor any other, has seen for you. I will bleed and perish and kill and whore my way across this world for a glimpse of you. For a glimpse of those ethereal eyes, those artist’s hands, and wicked, sinful mouth of yours that I fantasise over. You are my ruination and my salvation, all at once. You have my heart, my soul, my body, my very essence in the palm of your hand and you may do with it what you will. I care not, for if I get to have you, then nothing will matter. 

You, Queen of Queens, Empress, deserve a throne of diamond, a crown of flames and darkness that pulses with power like the never-ending might of the ocean and the power of a thousand winds. 

I will kneel before you, as will your kingdom; your peasants in your palace crafted of light and warmth and everlasting happiness. And we will revel, and dance, and celebrate to our heart’s content. 

I will spin webs of lies, schemes of deceit for your safety, without a shred of regret, an ounce of doubt. 

My Queen. 

My Empress.

My Goddess.

My only religion, the religion I shall never lose faith in. 

I want to bind myself to you in every way imaginable, tie myself and my soul to you with such vigour that even God will not separate us. 

Even the blessing of immortality would not be enough for me to explore you. Even eternity would feel too short. 

I know that I shall not tire of you. Your voice, a soothing melody in my ears, wrapping its vice full of love around my shrivelled heart. Your arms, the only embrace I feel cared for in. Safe in. Your eyes, like pools of starlight glowing with mirth, with love, with passion. 

The thought of losing you cleaves my soul in two, and it is then I pray to the Gods who have long since abandoned me to keep you safe, even if it means that I shall not be here in this world to see your happiness. 

I know I have crossed the line of simple, meek, mortal love when my biggest fear turned into losing you rather than my losing my own life. 

And it is then I wonder, is love too weak of an emotion for what I feel for you? 

Is it human?

Am I?

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#49

She wants to see, yet not be seen; To build a wall and yet have a window,

So that she may gaze upon the life she never had.

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#48

One part of me knows to raise my standards and to refuse a love that is not for me. Another part of me wonders if it would be better to settle for the scraps of love I have been thrown and be content, for I will never find true love.

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#47

The golden light of the sunset behind her gilded her figure in a halo, making it appear as if she was glowing from within. Her hair seemed to be on fire, shimmering and glowing in a thousand different shades he never knew existed. A goddess in her own right, walking towards him as if she owned the world in the palm of her hand, but didn’t quite have it just yet. That was alright, he thought to himself. I’ll lay the damned world at her feet and make them kneel if I have to.

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#46

When I see a red field, I have two thoughts, are these poppies or has the land run scarlet with the blood of the fallen?

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#45

I somehow always have one foot in the grave, always ready to die. I am scared that something will one day push me too far, so that my entire being might end up in the piece of Earth that has already been carved open for me. Something which I cannot escape.

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#44

Perhaps love is not a large, enormous and single occurrence as has been told to us, in the story where the man says to the woman, it was love at first sight. Rather I believe it to be in the small things. How a person laughs, the way they talk, their smile. Each small part of you makes me love you even more, with renewed vigour, and a passion and thirst and desire so strong it might drown me.

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#43

How can I be dead and dying all at once?

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#42

To anyone whose heart aches so thoroughly they are scared they might never again recover, yet they try their best every day. Know that you are not alone, and that I see you.

To anyone whose heartbreak has made them mad with desire, and hatred, and love, filled them up with so many emotions they feel as if they might truly die.

To those of you that heartbreak has turned into what the world sees as monsters.

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#41

Your worst nightmare, she said with a feral grin. In that moment he could have sworn that something unearthly flashed in her storm grey eyes, something he knew he'd never want to see. Something so terrifying and brutal that it could create and destroy worlds. A power far beyond his, or anyone else's, comprehension.

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#40

There was blood everywhere, but no amount of it could compare to how much his heart bled at the sight of her sprawled out on the filthy ground, covered in dirt and her body half-buried under the rubble. Scrambling towards her, he held his first true love in his arms, but he knew before he even got there that she was dead. The sensible part of him knew that. But yet his heart ached and screamed and shouted, begging to be let out of its cage to be allowed to grieve over the mortal that he had fallen in love with. Embracing her at last, his warm body covering her broken one, he broke down in sobs and did not let go, even as Death tried to snatch the Maiden from his arms.

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#39

Your love is like fire and my heart like wax; melting under your every touch until I am nothing but a ruined mess, fighting for my throne as I have fought for you.

I know you will burn me and hurt in every way imaginable, and yet I cannot stay away. I know I cannot have you, yet my heart yearns for your smile, your laugh, but mostly for those depthless eyes that I get lost in every time my heart cannot stand it any longer, and I am forced to steal glances at you. 

You are my love, yet also my undoing. And you have no idea.

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#38

Either I will conquer the world or lose myself trying to understand it.

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#37

You are sweet as honey, bright as snow, Yet why must my heart long for you so?

You are deep as an ocean, soft like rain, And yet my heart must find you again.

You are fine like art, your elegance and grace Have long since enchanted me, in a hundred different ways.

You are delicate as a flower, not cold nor vain, My soul yearns terribly, and screams your name.

Intricate and carved, such is your soul, A layered tapestry, not a single hole.

Your mind is a garden, filled with growth and love, That you tend to with such care, it holds mine like a glove. 

Your eyes glow with mirth, while mine are a storm, How does one manage to survive for so long?

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#36

The ones who cannot find lovers often find love in themselves.

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#35

Away you fool! Away, for I would rather perish at the hands of the devil himself rather than consume such mortal filth you hold in an excessively high regard.

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#34

Oh how different it would feel if he loved me for my soul and not my body, to know I am more than an object and a dying husk of a being in his eyes. I know not what I parts of myself I must sacrifice further to allow him to see me as a person, for I have long since yielded my brain and my body to a man I hardly know.

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#33

She doubted the scars on her chest, over and over and inside her heart would ever fade. Ever ease. She sure as hell hoped so, because how else was she to manage the ever-growing heartache and grief that threatened to pull her into oblivion? The only thing stopping her from doing so, she supposed, was the thought of the loved ones she had lost. That they would be watching from the heavens, and silently beg and encourage her to continue and fight and battle her demons, no matter how difficult things became.

One day, her mother had asked her what she was scared of. Nothing, she'd replied. I'm not scared of anything. As she sat by her lover's grave, the sky awash in hues of crimson and violet and marigold, she realised that she at last had the answer to her mother's question that had been poised to her naive self years ago. I'm scared, mum, she whispered into the darkness. I really am. Of the future. Of what's ahead. Of what's out there. Who's out there. Of myself, and my volatile and temper-filled self. Of how I might hurt others. Of how my life has amounted to nothing. Of being sick. Of being so sick that I can't get out of bed, or eat, or drink, or even think. I'm scared that I might fall back into that gaping pit and never come back out. How I might come back out. I barely managed last time. 

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#32

How strange it is to have someone break me and yet heal me at the same time, to have them be my everything and nothing all at once. To love them from the depths of my blackened and shattered heart, and despise them so terribly that I cannot breathe the next.

The only thing I wonder then, is if I am going mad or have already done so.

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#31

Some, like you, were designed to love, and have all that you ever wished for, a life right out of a fairytale and bathed in luxury and riches beyond our imaginations. You were offered, and took, the opportunity to be with your lover forevermore, while others, like me, the unfortunate, desperate, and longing souls, were also designed to love, and yet lose. 

I, however, could not grant my lover money, or fame, or the other hundred things you have managed to obtain. I could not even grant them the gift of life. For my kind were designed to love, yet sacrifice, both the person of our dreams, our soulmates, our everythings, yet also ourselves.

Your lover helps you thrive, to truly live, and enriches your life like a thousand different spices, paints your canvas in a million different colours. You, my dear, got the life so many of us can only dream of.

My lover exists only in my fantasies and memories, and even then there are days when their face blurs and I cannot quite recall how their voice sounds, how their hair feels under my fingers, how perfectly their head fits into the crook of my neck, how many sunsets we enjoyed together and how many nights we spent with only the stars and each other to keep us company.

I do not know if it is fate keeping me from my lover, or my own actions which make me undeserving of the love you share with your beloved.

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#30

The last thing I want is to fall for someone again.

Why, you ask?

Because the first time I did, I had my heart broken so thoroughly that it might never again recover. Because the pain of rejection and betrayal hurt me so deeply I have allowed it to fester into a wound. My heart longs so terribly for someone to call my own, yet I know that falling once more is not an option, and that I will be loveless for the rest of my life should I not overcome my heartbreak. How painful it is to long for something that I might never have; let it be both the bane of my existence yet also the only reason I live.

And then I wonder if waiting will be worth it at all. Because what scares me the most is that it will not, that I will have suffered and bled and cried and wrecked myself so completely, yet it will have amounted to nothing.

It is these moments that I begin to question Life, and God Himself, for what Creator would allow His children to bleed a thousand different colours and watch without helping, or at the very least, wanting to help? Some days I wonder whether God truly exists, and whether or not happy endings still exist, like in those stories I was told as a naive child. Lately, I have come to realise that this sort of future is meant only for the stories, fables, and myths, yet somehow never for me. If it was, I would not have gone through the hardships I was forced to.

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#29

"Say hello to the stars, my Lady, for now I must depart, and am left with the growing sadness that burns a hole through my heart. Thank them for staying, for being with me when no one could, nor wanted to, and thank the moon for comforting me when I most needed its warm and unyielding presence. As I lie here, the place where I shed my mortal skin to journey to a better world, know one thing: my body nor my soul are mine own. They belong wholly to the night sky, as they always have, and shall return there once my time on this Earth comes to an end. I ask of you one last thing my Lady: be grateful to the stars.”

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#28

"You are no longer mine to love," she whispered, cupping his face in her hands and gazing up at him with so much love in her eyes it threatened to bring him to his knees.

"For you have always been hers, and all I have done is watch from afar how your love has blossomed, while my heart rotted, thrown away and left in ruins. I thought I had found the lost pieces of my heart within you, yet when you look at her, I am reminded of how futile it is to dream in the first place. I am reminded oh so painfully, that I am lost. Your heart belongs wholly to her, hers to you, and mine to no one.

As she spoke, a lone tear slipped down her face, a sign of the utter damnation and ruin it would leave in its wake.

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