Maybe it’s because I can see the words forming in front of me. Maybe it’s the feeling of being in control. Maybe it’s the sound my pen or pencil makes on paper – the look and feel of a long paragraph.
Or maybe the words flowed better. Or maybe it felt like I had more work done when my hand began to hurt from writing so much. Or maybe I just liked writing.
Writing anything paper-and-pen felt better to me, but it was slower. Even with typing, I could barely keep up with my ideas.
But after typing two manuscripts and reading through some of both, I realized I had stuff missing compared to those half-fulfilled handwritten drafts.
The words and the scenes didn’t flow well. The paragraphs felt smaller. Most of it was dialogue. But when I write on paper, everything seems to fit. It even feels like I can think longer and more creatively as I write
The following is a letter I wrote to myself in the beginning of senior year, which was meant to be given back to us on the last day of our English class.
By the time you get this letter, you must be bored of school, tired of school, and exhausted of socializing. Hopefully you have enough willpower to continue reading this (written in August 23, 2016 [first English class]). If not, then sorry.
She rushes forward through the double doors and into an audience that does not wish to receive her. In the eyes of a crowd, she only seemed to pride herself in her step, splitting the crowd into two, who wished to avoid her like the Plague. Though the crowd’s eyes burn hot like hell’s fire with hearts numb, dead, and ice cold, she stands her ground and continues on.
Though she is to be viewed vehemently, under the spotlight, she is beautiful. She is radiant and awestriking, and anyone lucky enough to catch her eye instantly feels alight, both men and women and child and elder alike.
She represents unity, beauty, elegance – all the upsides of humanity while the crowd, split apart, represents the downsides. And this only further ignites the crowd’s rage because they feel the same way too. They feel everything wonderful in this world radiating in this woman sentenced to death.
The crowd’s jealousy bubbles up through their flesh and deranged bloodshot eyes as they scream at her, spit at her, and jeer. They hate themselves more than her because what they ridicule is an image of perfection and become themselves the image of imperfection, sin, and evil – things, atrocious things, that are accused of the young woman with pride in her stride sentenced to death.
For going against the rules of society and following the rules of her heart, she is sent to death with a good and pure heart.
So it’s been a while since I posted, but for some reason, I decided to check up on this and actually post something. I saw a notification and realized… I registered two years ago on WordPress ON THIS DAY.
I mean, it was completely coincidental. Two years ago, I was bored. Two years later in the present, I was… bored.
I don’t really know what happened on my “one-year anniversary” with WordPress, but… here I am.
Over the two years here, I’ve posted a bunch of stuff. Yes, stuff – a bunch of quite extremely random stuff. So hopefully, I end up putting more stuff. Much more random stuff. 😜
Thank you so much to the people who read my posts, which can either be pretty short or super long. 😁
To love and to be loved are both different things tied only by name.
To love is throwing yourself at another’s feet, giving up yourself completely, trusting that person to handle you well. To love is sacrificing everything for that person. It is to dedicate yourself to that person so much that everything you do is for them, for that one special person, because all your world becomes that one person.
To be loved is to trust completely in another so that the heart can open and accept love. To be loved is accepting someone and also removing the mask you hide behind, revealing yourself to someone. It is to receive and accept the love given to you by that one special person who means the world to you.
Love requires both of these things of either person in a relationship.
That’s basically me. 😆 Of course, I can’t really drive yet (who knows how I’ll keep track of my keys), but that’s basically me. It seems that with every passing day, more and more stress seems to come at me, challenging me to reach my limit.