excerpts from stories i will never write

"Darling, I've been watching other people fall in love for my whole life. Why should this be any different?" She looked away. "Well, maybe it is a little different." --5.28.18

here i go again. ripping myself apart for someone who is so unpredictable. i throw myself into the fire, giving all i have to someone who rarely gives back.     and when they give back,   i only receive pain.  do you care? only sometimes. wild. unpredictable. my skin is burning, i'm up in flames,     and you have no idea. i try my best to help you.       but you push me away.   and i end up just hurting you more. i've tried so very hard to stay angry at you,   but i care too much. i'm at the end of my rope. just pick a side. i'm sick of hurting us. --5.22.18

i wish my dreams were real,    sometimes. i had a dream last night.  i don't remember much, just    a feeling.  a feeling of the past. safety--comfort.   smoothness. something different. old, and new.    no baggage. i wish it could be that way.    but you and i, we're  the same.    so similar.        complicated. our lives have meshed together like   tangled knitting. we couldn't stop it if we tried.  do you ever wonder--   stepping back, looking at the choices you've made--      what would be different? sometimes i do. --5.22.18

isn't it funny how things change and yet  some things stay the same? always. --5.21.18

why are there no stories about girls  with green eyes? we have the brown eyed girls--    dancing, swinging, laughing, like an autumn day: a burst of sunshine, blonde hair. we have the blue eyed girls--     clear, like the ocean, smiling; softly giggling, smelling of salt and sand and carefree days. but what about the girls with green eyes?     the girls with eyes the color of warm sunlight filtering through a field; a snippet of summer, warm and not-quite-belonging to a season.     the girls with eyes that are blue tinted green, like the caribbean waters; white sand and starfish.     the girls with eyes the color of a forest: deep green; beautiful, rich green--the green of adventure and gentle nights. the green eyed girls are beautiful girls. --5.14.18

one thing i have  noticed about the eyes of people who write is that their eyes are clear. deep. like people who have seen many things, and  grew in wisdom because of them. the eyes of a writer are full of knowledge. the eyes of a writer are beautiful. --5.14.18

"grace is a powerful thing." yes, it is. but how do i apply that to my life? how do i control the rage inside of me that desires to be close, so very close to a human being who understands me, who knows me? how do i use that knowledge  to avert the pain that comes when i get lonely, so very desperately lonely? lonely--i am--lonely. i push back tears, trying to  shove the feeling back where it belongs. the void, summon the void. empty of emotions. you cannot feel if you destroy all feeling. shut it out, let me  be. alone. please. let me be alone. --5.11.18

she's been plunged into a world she should have never entered until she was twenty years old. and now she has an aged mind, never able to look at things in  the  same  innocent way. nothing is the same when  you are young, but too young to be old. --5.8.18

     "Strange, isn't it?" Her expression was pensive. "When you want something so badly that it hurts, for so long that it makes you sick. It consumes you, little by little, day by day.       "And then one day, you realize you don't want it any more. Every shred of emotion that tore you apart is now gone. You wake up, and it's just not there. It's a strange experience. You feel free, and numb. But you never want it again." --5.8.18

you make me sick. your voices are so fake, like an audio representation  of a barbie doll. perfect. painted-on. bubbly and happy.          unreal. you are paid to be encouraging. but i wonder. do you not notice     the pain around you? does it stop at the studio door? do you not hear the  distant drumbeats ushering in the end of time? the world is coming to a close     and all i can see is the plastic texture of your words.       be wary.  you cannot ignore the way the earth is shaking                 forever.  --5.6.18

i don't feel alone anymore. my barriers have been torn down, everything that kept me from being open is gone. i don't feel alone. --5.3.18