I'd say I'm as "normal" as any college kid can be. I'm down to earth and pursue my interests with passion. Hopefully through you reading what I deem as "important" on here, you will either learn something new, or gain a new perspective on something.
So I finally went back and found a bunch of my writing from High School. After reading some of the pieces and comments my teachers wrote on them, I think it is safe to say I was way ahead for my age.
I finally made some time for some creativity today. I found myself an interesting writing prompt and started writing. It seemed as if 5 minutes had passed, but when I looked at the clock I realized I had been typing for one hour straight with absolutely no break in thought whatsoever. Whether or not this short story turns into something good or not, I could care less. I’m completely thrilled that I was able to take my mind to it’s own creation and become lost in a world all my own, even if it was only for an hour.
I really want to write a quality short story, just to get back into the creative writing again. School basically doesn’t let me do that, so I suppose I just need to find the time…or make time. Point is (hopefully) you can expect to see something fairly creative with a story line sometime relatively soon….maybe.
These thoughts, I’ve had them as long as I can remember. They’re fueled by the desolate darkness and strengthened by suffering. An exhilarating chill runs down my spine once I satiate these thoughts. It is easy to become lost in the darkness but these thoughts are of my own mind, and there they shall stay.
I need to rummage through my old computer and drag out the old files of all the stuff I wrote in High School and see how my writing has evolved…or hasn’t. I’d just like to see what I was capable of then and such…keep an eye out. I feel somewhat motivated so this might actually happen…maybe.
I’ve always longed for the future. I always see it in a golden hour sunset type of camera filter. Here’s a view into my mind for tonight. It is sort of rough-ish. I had to type really fast so I did not lose the image in my mind, it’s viewed through my eyes.
It feels as if there is a musical presence, I am not sure of its origin, but it rests in the background. Loud enough to be heard, but enough to overpower the wind. Sitting on our front porch that wraps all the way around. I sit, book in hand with a drink on the coffee table as I slowly rock back and forth feeling the dying heat of the day warming my skin. The road is barely visible from here and I take a moment to appreciate our haven we’ve built. Secluded but still included. Quiet but loud, and calm but energetic. I picture this place, this perfect place, and the only person I can see next to me is you. I look to my side as your eyes meet mine. I smile and take a sigh of relief knowing that our gaze is all we need to communicate. I close my book, grab my drink and head for the door. But not before I place my hand on your shoulder. You begin to look up towards me, wondering why I need your attention. A kiss on the lips catches you off guard; a shocked but loving smile grows upon your face, and after all these years, you still look just as beautiful.
It’s never a good thing when I feel compelled to write….especially when it isn’t Winter of Fall.
From time to time, I grow into and fade from these existential moods. I used to enjoy them, then I hated them, now I’m just a bit annoyed by them to be honest. I’m not necessarily concerned about how humans got here or anything like that…that is not my worry. I just get caught up in the complexities on the scale of the world and universe. It leaves me in awe to put it simply, but then again; I can’t help but think I’d be just a little bit happier with less knowledge. Knowledge is power, but it is also a burden. Keeping my mouth shut to prevent social backlash on certain topics is frustrating. Yeah, I could speak up but it just makes sense in my mind and often times doesn’t come out well enough to convey the message without a lecture. I suppose I enjoy this mood that comes and goes, but sometimes I wish it would just go.
I wish I could just get away from this. Away from everything that I’ve built, away from you. I feel like you are the anchor that is holding me here. An anchor that I’ve been all to glad to set, but things are changing. For too long I’ve thought if I sat in my proverbial boat with my anchor down, I’d eventually be found by a rescue effort. I’ve waited long enough that I’m convinced there will be no rescue. They say never give up hope, but after such dismal days I can’t stay stranded in the middle of this ocean anymore. It’s time for me to take my chances, cut my anchor loose and drift through the sea; with hopes of a day when I am rescued.
