we're running up endless staircases in desperation to reach some kind of conclusion. no answers. maybe we're just on escalators going the wrong way. the only reward is the scenery...
"yours is the name i whisper to myself at night when i awake from a nightmare. yours is the voice that calms me. yours is the touch that excites me. yours are the eyes that i adore. you must know that through life and death i will stand by you, for you, my beloved, are the one i love," Mike finished his heart-filled pledge of devotion with a tear in the corner of his eye, balancing like a crystal ball on a thread. Cynthia's eyes, a blue one wouldn't be surprised to see cute, fluffy clouds in, showed that she had listened intently, but were yet to react to the words or the growing pause after them. Her lips seemed to want to smile, a tugging sensation pulling at the corners. This was the moment she had dreamed of, a fairytale monologue and a gorgeous gentleman. But she did not love him the way he loved her, and so here her heart was torn. She loved his charming eyes and his dashing smile, but she didn't love him. She loved the way he wrapped his arm around her and how he sought her hand to interlock fingers with, but she didn't love him. She loved his wit and how he would whisper sweet nothings in her ear, but she didn't love him. Prince charming was offering his strong and comforting hand and she was about to push it away. She wavered, looked once more into his serene brown eyes with specks of yellow dancing around the pupil and gave in. Taking his palm to her cheek she whispered to herself "I will love him, I will, I must believe that I already do". Mike's face broke open into a grin of happy relief. "Thank you so much, I was so scared!" Cynthia paused, unsure whether she really wanted to fulfill the commitment she just made, "I don't know if you really do want to thank me..." she whispered out loud, but Mike didn't hear, he was busy singing her praises.
...some hopeless attempt of romance, my characters always lose... maybe it's a reflection on myself...
San is gone... I haven't been on properly in a while and this morning i received a message from Indie about San's disappearance. I really hope nothing terrible has happened. San, I hope you're alright and well, I'll miss you if you don't come back.
wandering wounded, with the emotions you've brooded, stacked up around you in piles much too tall. keeping them steady, makes you tired and you're ready, for the still sleep that comes without nightfall. trapped in a dream, that provokes more smoke than steam, sinister black clouds consuming your view. unsure if your able, to find something more stable, arms stretched out for the closest thing to you. grasped in your hand, a thought you can't understand, bringing you more than you wanted to know. whether to trust it, you feel slightly disgusted, but i'm not sure if you can ever let go...
i know... i write about dreaming too much... but it is really what joins us all in a universe where you cannot possibly know everyone. everyone dreams, sometimes whether they like it or not. i'm not saying everyone has a dream they will acknowledge or strive for, but that they do dream. in reading/hearing the emotions embedded in the soul (or the soul embedded in the emotions) of these surreal portrayals we are reminded of our own, not because the pictures are the same, but because the feeling used to fabricate these inter winding threads resides in all of us. maybe i'm ignorant, and not everyone dreams, but it's something i want and need to believe. without dreams, reality will never change, and if reality never changes, then we really will die from our own poisons. or boredom, which ever arrives first.
i thought being back at uni would invoke more thought from me. but it seems to be draining me. i've never really forced myself to write, and i don't really think i should, but maybe it'll work out ok...
rachel stood completely still, she could have sworn she had heard pine-needles being crushed under a foot that wasn't hers. the wind that whistled through the trees carried a whiff of something sinister that traced goosebumps down her spine. she clenched her fists, gathering the courage to turn her head and look. she expected to see nothing, as there were always noises that echoed through the woods unaccounted for, and her expectations were met. sighing with relief, she returned to her original orientation, only to catch a glimpse of blue disappear behind another tree. she quickly drew the sigh back in and crouched low. if it had been black or brown or red or white or even green, she would've shrugged it off as a woodland creature minding their own business. but blue is not the colour of any animal she knew, that belonged in a forest 100km from any ocean or sea. she tried to collect her thoughts, but they were racing faster than she could catch up, her hand plunged into her pocket and rummaged for her phone. not finding it there, she quickly unslung her bag and searched for the small gray box that would give her a small amount of security, even though she was sure she was out of range. but she didn't manage to see how many bars of reception she had, the phone slipped from her hands as she was lifted from under her arms. she struggled as she was pinned against a tree, the bark scratchy against her face. her keeper's breath tickled her neck as they drew their face closer to hers. rachel whimpered slightly. "pardon me miss," he whispered, gently loosening his grip, "but i do believe that you are it," rachel giggled, which turned soon became bursts of laughter as she turned around and hugged him tightly. "you scared me there, don't do that!" she said, wiping her eyes that were wet with a mixture of relief and laughter. He chuckled and put his arms around her, his red jumper sleeve warming her neck. rachel paused, considering the colour of the jumper. "is this new? the colour looks really good on you!" they walked on, with an air of conversation and laughter around them, perfectly masking the footsteps of the man pursuing them in the shadows...
hm...
when the day, is gray, and lonely, i stick up my chin, and grin, and say...! (thanks Indie for getting it stuck in my head! maybe i'll dream in musicals tonight)
"The products of
imagination are most often seen as deformations or distortions of the real -
distortions conceived in the service of wish, and created through the sleights
of mind as condensation, substitution, negation." Mary Watkins (Invisible
Guests, The Development of Imaginal Dialogue, 1986)