Posted in Blogging, Creative Writing, Fiction, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged Depression, Love, Teens on September 24, 2016|
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My darkness is a blanket, but I find it hard to pull around you. It seems it would be easy enough. I could just clutch the two corners and wrap them ‘round your shoulders until they tie together.
Knotted, in the middle of your chest.
And there they’d hang, the blanket’s twisted ends, weighty over your heart.
I could pull it over your head. Cover your eyes with it. Stop you from seeing me.
From seeing anything.
Because it’s not one of those thin blankets. The kind that grant grainy particles of light. No peeking through to the other side.
Not with this one.
Once you’re in it, it’s thick. And heavy.
You won’t see hazy silhouettes through it. No subtle motion. Once you’re under it, it’s black. Bleak.
No light. No movement. No hope.
You’ll ask me to. Even tell me you want the darkness. You’ll beg to be wrapped in it, if you think it will help me. You’ll promise to be okay behind its all-encompassing eclipse.
You’d lie if you thought it would ease my burden.
I know better. I know what it will do to you. To your spirit. To your sensitive soul.
But in the end, I’ll share my blanket with you anyway.
Because I’m human. And I need you.
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Posted in Blogging, Creative Writing, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Short Stories, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged #amwriting #blogging #muse on September 7, 2016|
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I wrote a post the other day. Yay, me! About a bird. Well, it seems it was about a bird, but to be honest, I rarely write in a literal sense. I’m just usually the last to know.
And people liked it. Oddly, I did too. And that’s a real rarity for me. Because sadly, though not surprisingly, I am plagued with the writer’s plight. One’s own work is never good. And even worse, it’s never enough. In fact, why am I even showing it to anyone, silly monkey! So, to feel like it passed muster is a true blessing indeed.
But…I need the formula. What was so likeable? Why did you like it? And the harder question – why did I?
It’s laced with attractive language. And a lightness that brings a certain prettiness to the page. It’s short. And sweet. Grammatically correct. And even though it might be what some would perhaps call, wandering, it still manages to be direct and to the point. When you believe I’m actually talking about a bird, that is.
And all those things are good. But I don’t think they’re the reasons we liked it, do you? If I had to guess, (which obviously I do because, for some reason, very few people ever actually comment on my posts) I’d say it’s because it’s mysterious. And moving. And metaphorical. Have I gone too far in patting myself on the back? Another thing about writers…most of us are delusional.
Mystery. Movement. Metaphors.
We usually like those three things the best, don’t we?
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