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How can anyone trust anyone? Do we just know, instinctively, what people in our lives are trustworthy. Who do we deem worthy of our secrets and our feelings and insight to our lives. Can we really trust no one? If that is the case, I am truly frightened for I have given my secrets and feelings and insight far too easily.
How can I not? Eager ears make excellent company for an eager mouth. |
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I'm only 19; this makes me young, naive, and utterly ignorant to the ways of the opposite sex. Everyone says, "That boy only got one thing on his mind...and it starts with s." It actually took me forever to get what word started with an "s" that boys were always thinking about. But I recently met this guy, the kind of guy whose smart, funny, an artist. Someone you might swoon over- well someone I might swoon over. We hit it off.
And then I showed interest, maybe too much interest. Saying hello, wanting to hang out, telling him he was beautiful.
When I admire something I stick to it; I praise it, I nurture it, I defend it. Whatever IT may be. And I suppose to the opposite sex affection is a turn off.
Simple matter; I was invested and he wasn't. And it hurt...like a bitch. Found out later he was talking to some girl who was willing to love him...physically and without love.
The indifference that I showed him after was just a facade, just a game.
Like the game he introduced me to.
And you know what, he had the nerve to do? He had the nerve to want me when I was done. The opposite sex shouldn't play games.
The outcome is a language of jumbled commotion and no honesty.
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I joined this site too many months ago. I posted one writing. And afterwards all inspiration was lost.
Then I wondered; how many people just lose inspiration, a craving, a love for something? I wondered if it was true, what they say, about depression and great writing. Did I want to do something drastically depressing to gain inspiration, that craving, and that love for writing I had once back?
Then I realized my writing was a reflection of all things in my small life; all the small things I crave and all the local gods I love. And that the reason for my lapse of creativity was the fact my eyes had not been open to see the possibilities. My mind had not been open to appreciate these wondrous events in my world. My heart had not been open to accepting the feelings that could have helped my writing.
And just like that....it all came back. I bought a new book and I wrote in it; filled the pages. I giggled like a school girl, I bitched like an unloved housewife, I loved like a voluptuous women with long legs, I talked like a replica of bond, and every time i wrote in my little journal, i was happier.
I knew why I had loved writing in the first place; it filled a void, it put me at ease, it was beautiful no matter how atrocious it was and the paper never screamed at me or told me I wasn't good enough. I am never content after i write; I am restless and childishly, indulgently, selfishly happy.
And that is why i continue to write.
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Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.-- Anton Chekov |
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Welcome SMASH
to The Den of Amateur Writing
Total Members 1002
304645 unique visits
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blue_vein...
Administrator
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Date Joined:
18/05/2009 00:30 |
Last Visit:
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| 09/09/2010 03:51 |
| Forum Posts: 37 | | Location: Dhaka |
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You must login to post a message.
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Character Battle 1-10
Spiderman (Peter Parker)
63% [5 Votes]
Sarah Kerrigan (the Queen of Blades)
38% [3 Votes]
Votes: 8
You must login to vote. Started: 30/08/2010 09:40 Polls Archive
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