Living Nightmares
By day,
A haunted man I wander,
By night,
Twisted dreams and ideas I ponder.
Her hair swings from left to right,
Tormenting me in the dead of night.
I see nothing but her until I wake,
My beating heart does she take.
I follow her much like a dog,
Praising her like she is god.
And she sees this, deep within me,
A crazed love, forever to be.
By day,
A haunted man I wander,
By night,
Twisted dreams and ideas I ponder.
-Zero
Monday, December 26, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
One Year Anniversary
Happy Holidays, or Merry Christmas to whoever might be reading this! It's Christmas eve where I am right now, but that's not what brought me here. Today marks the one year point since this blog was first made. I really don't know what led me to create a blog on Christmas eve, but I did! Well, here we are, one year after I started this poor thing. Things have changed immensely in my life, just as my writing has changed immensely since the beginning of the blog. Around this time last year, I would have probably been just exploring the art of story writing, as well as my own mind. I am still exploring my mind, of course, and my exploration of the art of story writing definitely has slowed recently. Something that has changed throughout the year, however, would be the dominant female figure in my life, who is reflected in stories. Over the past few months, it's been pretty consistent, but I remember the summer before the one just passed had a very different girl on my mind.
I called her Kim in most stories. Her real name is Katherine and I assure you that no harm has come to her. She is actually attending the college beside my own, and is doing quite well, as usual. She's a strong girl and even though our paths may not cross as often as they used to, she'll always be a good friend of mine. She lost her position the following winter, right around February.
This was the month of Marie-Lynn, you could say. Marie-Lynn was, in fact, a character based off no more than a character seen in a dream and an incredibly vague character at that. That was the month I met Brianna, who incidentally shared the flaming auburn hair and hazel eyes that Marie-Lynn has. This is when I began the Wanderer's Journal, which Brianna fell in love with. Things with Brianna were unstable and constantly mimicked a roller-coaster. This, of course, gave me plenty to write about in the Wanderer's Journal, but now that she seems so distant, I have nothing left to write. She lasted quite a while in this post of dominant female until the most recent one came along.
The most recent is a girl with many titles, as you may have read. She is the girl in the leather jacket, as well as the daughter of Aphrodite. She is the night-eyed goddess, and the night itself. Most importantly though, she is the girl who sets me on fire. Ironically, her name is rarely different when she is mentioned in a story. I like to claim that this is because her name means "Queen" and that just happens to fit the character perfectly. I wouldn't seriously say that she is a queen herself though. If she were a queen, she would have an air of authority and she doesn't. No, Malika gives off warmth instead. She's an incredibly friendly girl and I'm still getting to know her. Whether or not I am obsessed with her does not matter really; she'll always be human. Over the progression of writing about her and talking to her, I dare say that I've come to realize that she is very far from that initial idea of a queen like personality. She cares for all, and for this, I am grateful. Anyways, I feel that I've gone on enough about these girls, back to the stories.
My stories have changed dramatically, but they tend to adhere to the same rules. Nearly each and every one of them has death in it and, more often than not, there is at least one character who comes to a realization. If there isn't a realization, it seems, the character is seeing the result of another's sins. For example, in "Forbidden Fruit" Chris Jovel tries to protect Teia, who is innocent of any crimes, from the men who marched in. She dies and he blames himself, but ultimately, it is the corruption of hate that is to blame; their hate for him spread to her because she is with him.
It seems too often as well, I see the lessons and realizations that I have drift their way or inspire my writings. It is quite fine with me, but I hope that soon I will be able to write like I did before. Anyways, I feel as if I've written enough, well, that and my laptop is dying. It is time for me to rest my eyes. Take care and enjoy the holidays!
-Zero
I called her Kim in most stories. Her real name is Katherine and I assure you that no harm has come to her. She is actually attending the college beside my own, and is doing quite well, as usual. She's a strong girl and even though our paths may not cross as often as they used to, she'll always be a good friend of mine. She lost her position the following winter, right around February.
This was the month of Marie-Lynn, you could say. Marie-Lynn was, in fact, a character based off no more than a character seen in a dream and an incredibly vague character at that. That was the month I met Brianna, who incidentally shared the flaming auburn hair and hazel eyes that Marie-Lynn has. This is when I began the Wanderer's Journal, which Brianna fell in love with. Things with Brianna were unstable and constantly mimicked a roller-coaster. This, of course, gave me plenty to write about in the Wanderer's Journal, but now that she seems so distant, I have nothing left to write. She lasted quite a while in this post of dominant female until the most recent one came along.
The most recent is a girl with many titles, as you may have read. She is the girl in the leather jacket, as well as the daughter of Aphrodite. She is the night-eyed goddess, and the night itself. Most importantly though, she is the girl who sets me on fire. Ironically, her name is rarely different when she is mentioned in a story. I like to claim that this is because her name means "Queen" and that just happens to fit the character perfectly. I wouldn't seriously say that she is a queen herself though. If she were a queen, she would have an air of authority and she doesn't. No, Malika gives off warmth instead. She's an incredibly friendly girl and I'm still getting to know her. Whether or not I am obsessed with her does not matter really; she'll always be human. Over the progression of writing about her and talking to her, I dare say that I've come to realize that she is very far from that initial idea of a queen like personality. She cares for all, and for this, I am grateful. Anyways, I feel that I've gone on enough about these girls, back to the stories.
My stories have changed dramatically, but they tend to adhere to the same rules. Nearly each and every one of them has death in it and, more often than not, there is at least one character who comes to a realization. If there isn't a realization, it seems, the character is seeing the result of another's sins. For example, in "Forbidden Fruit" Chris Jovel tries to protect Teia, who is innocent of any crimes, from the men who marched in. She dies and he blames himself, but ultimately, it is the corruption of hate that is to blame; their hate for him spread to her because she is with him.
It seems too often as well, I see the lessons and realizations that I have drift their way or inspire my writings. It is quite fine with me, but I hope that soon I will be able to write like I did before. Anyways, I feel as if I've written enough, well, that and my laptop is dying. It is time for me to rest my eyes. Take care and enjoy the holidays!
-Zero
Green Flames
The car door slams behind the angered teenage boy. He pulls out his dagger, reflecting the street lamp's light, causing it to give off a strange greenish glow. This boy feels wronged by another, but really he wronged himself. He won't know the truth until it's too late.
He looks at the house that he just pulled up to. The front door is made mostly of glass, but the rest of the house has few windows. They shouldn't see him coming. Little does he know that they knew he was coming and prepared for it.
He thinks that she's in there, being held prisoner by the guy who stole her away from him. She's really far out of his reach now, free from jealousy and revenge. This nameless teenage boy is known for his anger and for his tendencies to take revenge when he feels it is appropriate; he can hardly pronounce "self-control" without getting his tongue all tied up in knots. But there is nothing he does better than revenge, making him very dangerous. The others are prepared for this.
Sometimes the world seems so simple and direct, just like it did before this boy was 'wronged' by the others. It was warm out still. Actually, it was too hot out. He had her right where he wanted her, under his control. Her name is Mara and now she is free from his control. This angers him for he wanted to have her as his puppet.
What happened exactly, you ask? Well, it's quite simple, actually. Philip, the other boy, came and had a chat with Mara, who later became more aware of the world around her. Philip was her guardian angel, freeing her from the grips of Lucifer, the name of the angered boy. Flames dance around Lucifer, but no one seems to notice them. It is much like the screams of hate, so bold, yet unnoticed. In Lucifer's head, Philip came along and ruined his plans; Philip stole Mara from him. If Lucifer were to look at things logically, he would see that Philip stole nothing from him and that, truly, he never really cared for Mara. He's capable of seeing the truth, but he decides to see the angelic Philip in a darker light. Such is the nature of humans.
The glass door shatters and Lucifer enters the dark house. He looks around the empty house, finding nothing to take his anger out on. Mara is too far out of his reach; he'll never catch her now. The strings have been cut loose and the puppet becomes a real person, but the green glow of the eyes of a monster beyond our understanding watches her run. Jealousy, the green-eyed monster, follows her where-ever she may walk.
Lucifer yells in anger, throwing things throughout the house in a fit of rage. The flames around him turn green with jealousy and his mind continues to corrupt itself; his mind is soon lost forever. A figure appears in the doorway, radiating white light. Lucifer turns and stares at the figure with hate-filled eyes. A wicked smile goes across his face. "Why, hello Philip. I've been looking for you." "Lucifer, I know you're angry, but for the love of god calm down. Mara left ages ago. Do you not feel the cold of the world inside of your heart for all you've done? After all, you are alone with nothing but puppets. But that is how you would rather it, is it not? Such a strange existence." Philip says, never giving Lucifer a moment to cut in. "Are you not human as well?"
"The darkness within my heart cannot be seen by all, saintly Philip. Truth be told, I do not even feel the winter cold on my skin. A burning torment, I suppose, is all I feel. She was mine for the taking; she was my puppet! Surely you understand that when you steal other people's toys on the playground, you're bound to make enemies. I am human though. Humans never change; they're always thinking about what's best for them. You understand this, I know that. Let the fear consume you as my dagger pierces your soul." Lucifer replies back to the shining boy, being both cunning and brutal in his words.
"What you say might be true, but it would be true to only the heartless. I know that you intend on murdering me here, but if you do kill me here, the whole world will know. I revealed your burning green flames before I came here to confront you; there is no going back to your old ways. Darkness consumes the soul and fire burns the sanity away. Come with me and I will show you the light." Philip offers salvation to the jealous monster, Lucifer. The offer is ignored.
Lucifer comes at Philip with the dagger, sealing his own fate. Philip dodges the blade elegantly, but he cannot dodge the blade forever. Soon he will have to fight or die. What little truth that Lucifer knows understands this, so it pushes him to keep going.
"So you have chosen darkness... Very well, then I shall put out the green flames myself! Let the truth decide who is the victor of this battle!" Philip yells courageously and pulls out a dagger of his own. Philip's dagger is incredibly different from Lucifer's jagged blade, especially considering that it radiates white light instead of a green glow. "Jealousy has corrupted your mind far too much, Lucifer. You aren't thinking straight and this shall be your downfall."
Philip disarms Lucifer by shattering Lucifer's blade in a single strike. The angered teenage boy remains unharmed physically, but his mind suffers greatly. He never expected Philip to defeat him so easily. Lucifer throws away what little remained of his blade and waits for the end to come. It doesn't come.
"Your fate is in your hands now, Lucifer. You can decide between life and death. I merely ask that you give up your pursuit for revenge in return for letting you live." Philip asks a gentle request of him. Lucifer considers his options and shakes his head at Philip, giving him another wicked smile.
"No, you will not show me mercy, nor will you take my life. My fate is mine to decide and mine to decide alone. I choose death!" Lucifer yells, stealing the blade from Philip like a fool. The blade suddenly looses its white light and slowly cuts down the chest of Lucifer as he finds the place to stab.
"Perhaps soon you will see that never have I wronged you, but rather you wronged yourself." Philip ponders about Lucifer as he plunges the blade deep into his heart, something that had died years ago. His eyes go dark, but his mind goes crazy. Images flash through his head as if they were randomly chosen. The images stop on one specific sight. Before Lucifer's eyes stands Mara with a heart in her hands. It crumbles to bits and she frowns at it. Then she blows away the ashes and Lucifer dies.
-Zero
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
"Freedom Love"
My name is James Mendoza and I'm in a great relationship with my girlfriend, Ginette. She's not the best girl I could find, but I figured she'd do. That's how you do it, right? Anyways, in a week it is our one year anniversary. It's a gentle wonder and I often don't know how it has only been a year; I swear it feels like ten! Despite my teenage grey hairs, I'm fairly attractive. She, on the other hand, is not quite the same. She's alright, but she's not a queen, that's for sure. I'm in college and she's still trying high school, even though she's older than me. She skips out on almost all of her classes and spends most days high. It irritates me a bit, but what's the worst that it could bring?
I'd love to say that I remember the first day that we met, but I really don't. I'm sure she's said it a thousand times, but chances are the tv was on and I wasn't paying attention. I don't know why, but she loves to bug me when I'm busy with more important stuff. Too often does she say "I love you," so I've taken a liking to replying with a small grunt. She doesn't seem to mind it too much, and occasionally slaps me playfully in response.
We live together, but sleep in separate rooms. It irritates her, but I like it better this way so that she doesn't try to cuddle with me at night. I tend to keep my room locked, especially when I'm still awake. She doesn't seem to understand that school is much more important than her. It doesn't help that she thinks that I'm more important than her schooling. What sort of girl puts a guy first like that? Anyways, I'm totally happy in this relationship. It gives me everything I need except a mutual feeling of love, but who wants that anyways? I sure don't, not with her at least.
I never lie to her, but for some reason she always believes me. I guess the fact that she's foolish isn't too new. She can hardly read a short story after all. I tend to have to explain myself a hundred times before she starts grasping what I mean, so I find myself avoiding conversation with her. If she greets me, I greet her back and disappear into my room.
The world is different when I'm alone in my room. Suddenly I get the urge to write, but find nothing coming to mind. It has been like this for almost a year now and it drives me insane. It's almost as if Ginette has drained my creativity, but I can live with that; it's just my only passion in life, that's all. There are times when an idea flows into my mind, but runs out because Ginette happens to call out for me at that exact moment; there's no forgetting that she's there. I guess I could use a vacation from this life, but where would I go? I don't know anything else. Hell, I hardly know life.
The colors of the world faded a while ago and I've gotten used to the colorless, joyless, world that I exist in. I was a novelist when the colors existed. I was even an artist! I painted pictures that had such vivid colors that even acid couldn't provide the same effect. But now, even those paintings seem dull and dead. I think all of my friends died or something.
I haven't heard from any of my old friends since the beginning of this relationship. I stopped saying hi in the hallways because I don't really need them. Right? Isn't that the point of a relationship, to isolate yourself from the world just to make yourself lonely? I'm sure it is. That's probably why this relationship is going so well.
Anyways, there's a reason I'm saying all of this. I'm thinking of giving one of my old stories to Ginette for our anniversary. It's something from the heart, a heart that I haven't heard beat in a while actually. I just have to read them over and figure out which one is best. I have a notebook with them scribbled down in it. I just found it too, so it's time to flip through it.
I open the first page and see the title of my first story, "Love's Hero." I decide immediately that "Love's Hero" is not the right story and flip to the next one. "Freedom Love" is the next title and I go to flip past it, but something pulls me towards it. I wrote a lot of love stories back in the day, mostly about this one girl in my program. Oh god, she's so beautiful. I remember wanting her so much, but Ginette came along and it seemed like the easier path to take. Perhaps it was the shorter path too.
I read through "Freedom Love" quickly, letting the words affect my emotions like they used to. I find myself in the mind of the main character, who had just realized that he was in love. He said it was crazy, and thought about throwing it away. Something stopped him. There was a crazier feeling that followed it and it's described as "freedom of the heart." But the two feelings are really the same, and I begin remembering how I felt when I wrote it.
The story came straight from the heart, and I knew that whether or not she returns the feelings, love would still set him free. I remember dancing about my room, blasting love songs. This was before Ginette came along. Something changed inside of me that day. I felt so free; I felt like I was flying. I'm starting to think that I was in love back then. That's what I called it, after all, and I was much happier than I am now. Love makes you happy, right?
I feel something churning inside of me, like a hurricane ocean. It's in my stomach like butterflies, in my heart like a beast, and in my mind like the confused man that I am. If I was in love then, what am I in now? What is keeping me bound to this girl? The beast inside of my heart wakes up and seems to reveal itself as something else, a gentle creature, a gentle feeling.
I jump over to my desk as the colors slowly return to the world around me. I open my laptop and take a look into the "pictures" folder. I see the locked folder named "GIL" and open it immediately, putting the beautiful girl's name as the password. It works and the folder opens, revealing all of the sweet pictures that she sent me back in the day. In each one she's more beautiful and slowly the lively green in the pictures begins to come to life. A realization begins to wash over me as well, but I fear the truth and push it away.
The realization beats me into submission with its persistence. I am in love, but not with Ginette. I've been blind for so long. How did I never notice the truth? I can't keep living like this! I have to tell the truth; I can't keep living a lie! I don't care what consequences will follow; I have to save myself from this endless pit of lies that I have fallen into! Maybe it's not too late for James Mendoza.
-Zero
I'd love to say that I remember the first day that we met, but I really don't. I'm sure she's said it a thousand times, but chances are the tv was on and I wasn't paying attention. I don't know why, but she loves to bug me when I'm busy with more important stuff. Too often does she say "I love you," so I've taken a liking to replying with a small grunt. She doesn't seem to mind it too much, and occasionally slaps me playfully in response.
We live together, but sleep in separate rooms. It irritates her, but I like it better this way so that she doesn't try to cuddle with me at night. I tend to keep my room locked, especially when I'm still awake. She doesn't seem to understand that school is much more important than her. It doesn't help that she thinks that I'm more important than her schooling. What sort of girl puts a guy first like that? Anyways, I'm totally happy in this relationship. It gives me everything I need except a mutual feeling of love, but who wants that anyways? I sure don't, not with her at least.
I never lie to her, but for some reason she always believes me. I guess the fact that she's foolish isn't too new. She can hardly read a short story after all. I tend to have to explain myself a hundred times before she starts grasping what I mean, so I find myself avoiding conversation with her. If she greets me, I greet her back and disappear into my room.
The world is different when I'm alone in my room. Suddenly I get the urge to write, but find nothing coming to mind. It has been like this for almost a year now and it drives me insane. It's almost as if Ginette has drained my creativity, but I can live with that; it's just my only passion in life, that's all. There are times when an idea flows into my mind, but runs out because Ginette happens to call out for me at that exact moment; there's no forgetting that she's there. I guess I could use a vacation from this life, but where would I go? I don't know anything else. Hell, I hardly know life.
The colors of the world faded a while ago and I've gotten used to the colorless, joyless, world that I exist in. I was a novelist when the colors existed. I was even an artist! I painted pictures that had such vivid colors that even acid couldn't provide the same effect. But now, even those paintings seem dull and dead. I think all of my friends died or something.
I haven't heard from any of my old friends since the beginning of this relationship. I stopped saying hi in the hallways because I don't really need them. Right? Isn't that the point of a relationship, to isolate yourself from the world just to make yourself lonely? I'm sure it is. That's probably why this relationship is going so well.
Anyways, there's a reason I'm saying all of this. I'm thinking of giving one of my old stories to Ginette for our anniversary. It's something from the heart, a heart that I haven't heard beat in a while actually. I just have to read them over and figure out which one is best. I have a notebook with them scribbled down in it. I just found it too, so it's time to flip through it.
I open the first page and see the title of my first story, "Love's Hero." I decide immediately that "Love's Hero" is not the right story and flip to the next one. "Freedom Love" is the next title and I go to flip past it, but something pulls me towards it. I wrote a lot of love stories back in the day, mostly about this one girl in my program. Oh god, she's so beautiful. I remember wanting her so much, but Ginette came along and it seemed like the easier path to take. Perhaps it was the shorter path too.
I read through "Freedom Love" quickly, letting the words affect my emotions like they used to. I find myself in the mind of the main character, who had just realized that he was in love. He said it was crazy, and thought about throwing it away. Something stopped him. There was a crazier feeling that followed it and it's described as "freedom of the heart." But the two feelings are really the same, and I begin remembering how I felt when I wrote it.
The story came straight from the heart, and I knew that whether or not she returns the feelings, love would still set him free. I remember dancing about my room, blasting love songs. This was before Ginette came along. Something changed inside of me that day. I felt so free; I felt like I was flying. I'm starting to think that I was in love back then. That's what I called it, after all, and I was much happier than I am now. Love makes you happy, right?
I feel something churning inside of me, like a hurricane ocean. It's in my stomach like butterflies, in my heart like a beast, and in my mind like the confused man that I am. If I was in love then, what am I in now? What is keeping me bound to this girl? The beast inside of my heart wakes up and seems to reveal itself as something else, a gentle creature, a gentle feeling.
I jump over to my desk as the colors slowly return to the world around me. I open my laptop and take a look into the "pictures" folder. I see the locked folder named "GIL" and open it immediately, putting the beautiful girl's name as the password. It works and the folder opens, revealing all of the sweet pictures that she sent me back in the day. In each one she's more beautiful and slowly the lively green in the pictures begins to come to life. A realization begins to wash over me as well, but I fear the truth and push it away.
The realization beats me into submission with its persistence. I am in love, but not with Ginette. I've been blind for so long. How did I never notice the truth? I can't keep living like this! I have to tell the truth; I can't keep living a lie! I don't care what consequences will follow; I have to save myself from this endless pit of lies that I have fallen into! Maybe it's not too late for James Mendoza.
-Zero
Monday, December 19, 2011
Another Update
It seems that I have been suffering from something that NanoWrimos call "the decembers." It's much like a sickness, but it affects your mind. I have not written anything creative since the last post of mine on the first of December. I feel as if writing that novel in the month of November drained me of my creative reserve. In an attempt to retain some creative writing in my life, I decided to edit that very same novel and publish it through CreateSpace. It is a self-publishing website and will allow me to sell the book online through it. I was hoping to finish the editing before the end of February, but if my friend, who currently has my printed off copy of the novel, takes too long to read it over, I fear that it might take longer than I wish. Anyhow, I will try to finish that as soon as possible, and once I do finish editing it, I will post the link to the CreateSpace website where you can purchase the novel.
I will also try to post short stories here and there, hopefully finishing some stories that I never got around to finishing for different reasons, such as "Knife Life" and "Autumn" (which is an older one, I believe.) I have about a month off from school, so I don't quite know how my writing will do. I tend to write more at school (seen by the amount of posts in September and October), but I do have more time for writing now. There are also a couple projects I have been thinking about starting, but I think I should finish my old ones first! The projects are recently inspired and include the following ideas: a boy who judges and loses, a criticism of a racist Quebec, and a short story adaptation of a music video (always fun.) The music video is Marianas Trench's "Haven't Had Enough." I actually analyzed the video with my friend the other night in an attempt to aid her with her essays. I find that it is very well put together, but I digress.
Below you will find a poem that I pieced together from poetic bits I found in a notebook of mine (written by me). Perhaps poetry can pull me out of this dump, so to speak.
Till next time, Kuna Zero.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Single Tear
If a single tear were to fall from my eye,
Let it be from our eternal good-bye.
One kiss, it seems, is all I need,
To be trapped in an eternal glee.
But the truth is too hard to see,
Knowing him, I'll be forgotten soon.
He took you from me,
And now I am alone, as the single tear falls.
-Zero
I will also try to post short stories here and there, hopefully finishing some stories that I never got around to finishing for different reasons, such as "Knife Life" and "Autumn" (which is an older one, I believe.) I have about a month off from school, so I don't quite know how my writing will do. I tend to write more at school (seen by the amount of posts in September and October), but I do have more time for writing now. There are also a couple projects I have been thinking about starting, but I think I should finish my old ones first! The projects are recently inspired and include the following ideas: a boy who judges and loses, a criticism of a racist Quebec, and a short story adaptation of a music video (always fun.) The music video is Marianas Trench's "Haven't Had Enough." I actually analyzed the video with my friend the other night in an attempt to aid her with her essays. I find that it is very well put together, but I digress.
Below you will find a poem that I pieced together from poetic bits I found in a notebook of mine (written by me). Perhaps poetry can pull me out of this dump, so to speak.
Till next time, Kuna Zero.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Single Tear
If a single tear were to fall from my eye,
Let it be from our eternal good-bye.
One kiss, it seems, is all I need,
To be trapped in an eternal glee.
But the truth is too hard to see,
Knowing him, I'll be forgotten soon.
He took you from me,
And now I am alone, as the single tear falls.
-Zero
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Dreams of a Fickle Teenager
November 23rd 2010 - Night of the First Dream
Last night I was tasked with a dream that threw my mind into chaos again. It wasn't like the other ones. No, this one had no conflict. It was strange. I'm so used to having people conflict in my dreams, that I guess I never thought that there might be one without conflict. Ironically, this dream has screwed me up more than the ones before it. In my past entries, you'll notice that everything tends to stay the same; same people, same places, same conflicts. I've gotten used to the routine. Last night broke that routine, introducing new people, places, and conflicts. Now the conflicts are within me. I dreamt of my ex, who will be referred to as "B" to avoid the possibility of anyone actually figuring out who she is. Before I scribble down the dream in this notebook, I should probably give more background information.
It all happened over the summer, right before school started. Things had been crazy, what with my inability to stick to one girl for longer than a week or so, and I commonly found myself at the local youth center. That's where I met B. She was cute, and I had seen her months before, but assumed she was with her boyfriend. This time, it was obvious that she was with her sisters and without a boyfriend. I'm starting to wonder if it would have been better if I had just walked away and never came back. But I didn't and here we are getting ready to describe a dream that has fucked me up even more. Anyways, B and I started dating, after, of course, I had broken through the icy walls of her heart. I never intended to hurt her, but I knew I would. Even before we dated, I knew. Maybe that should have been incentive to stop my pursuit of the poor girl, but I continued nonetheless, never taking a moment to think things over. Ironically, she would become one of my longest lasting girlfriends. She was sweet, nice and caring. I don't quite understand what caused me to become so distant from her, though. It happened one day, never letting me return and protect the thing we had. The more distant I grew, the more questions about the relationship I had. My friends, who I have learned are not as honest as they might think, inspired these questions. The relationship was thrown into turmoil and on our one month, I broke it off. I immediately hated myself for it, knowing that she would cry when she would get home. I knew that I became "like the rest" and that my life has just changed forever. The youth center became her place, only because she had more time for it than I did. Besides, she got there first. I stopped going, granting her the freedom of not seeing me everyday. The next time I went, she was found crying outside. I, of course, got yelled at by her sisters, who thought that I did something to B. I didn't though, and it kills me to know that my presence alone made her cry. I'm not heartless, just misguided.
Last night, I dreamt of B. She was crying. She was alone. I remember looking around, only to find an endless darkness surrounding us. I felt the urge to go over towards her, but I thought that I was the cause. I was torn between the two options. If I was the reason, was it my place to try and comfort her? Could I comfort her? The tears burn down her cheeks and suddenly I'm cradling her in my arms. "What happened?" I ask her, worried for her well-being. She stays quiet and continues crying. I bring her closer, holding her right next to my heart. We sit, rocking gently. I wasn't sure why she was crying, and found myself thinking that he new boyfriend had just broken up with her. I begin pitying her a little, only to find myself crying along with her, feeling her loss as my own. We hold each other in the caring embrace and find ourselves almost mocking a moment that we shared while we were together. That's when my alarm went off, waking me back up.
It's weird to have a dream like that. Seeming so short, but feeling so long. I'm starting to question myself.
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I thought that I would try a different type of story. First person, but through the format of a dream journal that he actually expects someone to read. I figured I'd use a date that was from when I was still in high school, just to give a larger sense of the past. Anyways, I really ought to be back to the editing of my completed Nanowrimo novel (yes, still bragging) "Love: A Chaotic Insanity."
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