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Showing posts with label creative writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creative writing. Show all posts

Sunday, September 29, 2013

To Those Who Have Wings


To the girl who’s grown up, been through hell, and came out a stranger,

It takes strength to pull yourself out of hell

It takes heart to go back and pull others out

It takes wings to do that everyday

You are my inspiration

If only you could see your wings

An amazing person today showed me their anonymous twitter account and I can honestly say she’s my hero, my inspiration, my angel (though she was before as well :) ).  Check it out: https://twitter.com/You_Will_Fly

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Always was, always will be

A single tear
Began it all
A tear for you
Don't you recall?
 
It’s all about you
Not about __
Past, present, future
Always was, always will be
 
Purple for __, Teal for you
My bracelets have secret meanings too
But purple disappeared just this past winter
And _ really don’t care about ever finding her
 
It’s all about you
Not about __
Past, present, future
Always was, always will be
 
And when _ fall
No pity please
_ made my choice
You over __
___________________________________
Because online or offline, friend or stranger, I care about you. I want to take the weight off your shoulders. I would hold up the sky for you, wear your chains so you don't have to. Just to see you smile.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Dear Reader


Dear Reader,

If you are viewing this, then I am dead. No reason to beat around the bush; much more important things than my life are at stake here. I leave, with you, a set of tasks to fulfill: the tasks in which I did not have enough time to complete. Do not take this job lightly, for lives do depend on it. 

You must find the most amazing girl in the world. This task is harder than you might think.  Though she shines with such radiant light, her beams are blocked by thorns of self-hatred.  Give her the mirror that accurately reflects both her outer and inner beauty and teach her how to trust it.

You must sift through my countless emails and reply to them all. Let them know that I can no longer help them, but you can. Be there for them, because no one else will.

You must befriend one mailer in particular.  Though she might be four years younger, she’s become one of my best friends. Let her know that she’s never alone, and that hope will never die, as long as she is alive.

You must take up position as an inspirer.  Write blogs. Talk in front of schools. Inspire, encourage, and applaud your apprentices.

You must sit with the red-haired girl every other day and ask how she is.  You must listen to the answer and actually care. You must tell her how much she shines. And that one particular sticky note from 10th grade wasn’t randomly placed at all.

You must make someone’s day, every day.  You must continue the small project.  You must be the one your friends look to in their time of need. Be their helping hand up. Their shoulder to cry on.  Their rock.

You must find those who were my rock in times of need and thank them for it.  (I’m thinking cupcakes :) )

Mostly, though, you must be strong. There are no words to describe how it feels to carry such weight on your shoulders. But I know you can handle it.  You are resilient. You know that chasing a goal can be brutal. But you also know that it’s worth it. You are relentless. You will stand back up after every crashing wave knocks you down.  And you will laugh as those waves become smaller and smaller until they slide harmlessly into shore off in the distance.  You’re not scared. You could take thousands of those waves and jump right back to your feet, spitting sand and grinning wildly.  Why? Because you are a fighter.  And I know I chose well. 

Sincerely,
Eva

Okay, okay now, you can relax.  I’m not actually dead.  Yesterday I was laying wake in my bed, seriously sore from lifeguard training.  I was wondering what would happen if I didn’t wake up tomorrow.  Someone would have to take care of a few things.  I guess that’s the downfall of being invisible.  I don’t really have that person to help.  Actually, now I do. 

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Love makes the world spin 'round

What makes the world spin? Money, most claim
 
But I don’t buy what they proclaim
To my opinion I’m tightly bound
Only love makes this world go ‘round
 

Don’t shake your head, no rolling eyes
You’ll never know until you try
Give love a chance; lend me an ear
Your mind may change if me, you hear

Her mouth flies wide open at the sight of the ninja-shaped, sprinkle-covered, chocolate cake. “Is that for me?” I laugh and set down the treat as the team gathers around to sing ‘Happy birthday.’ While she hugs me tight, I whisper in her ear, “Well, you said your family hasn’t celebrated your birthday in a while.  So we decided that your other family should.”

Trudging into my last class, my head tilts downward and smile droops.  I’m just trying to get through the day when the girl next to me looks up and says, “You know, you have really pretty eyes.” And I still now, I can’t stop smiling.

“One two three four five six seven eight, one two - now this is where we turn left” I instruct, showing the freshmen how to pivot on her toes.  The bell rings suddenly and I remember I have to run.  But before I go, I offer, “Hey, if you want to go over the dance again before auditions, we could meet tomorrow at 2:30.”  She nods gratefully.  A few hours later, I look back on the moment and realize I did not even know her name.

I stand at the start of the 800 meter run, the final event in pentathlon. One does not normally smile before races, for they can be quite painful, however, I can’t relax my cheek muscles for the life of me.  It’s my first race back after a season of being injured.  It’s also the last race of the year.  When the gun goes off and I spring from the start line, I cannot feel more alive.  But the feeling of racing for the first time in a while, and winning with a new personal record to boot, is nothing compared to the fact that all my teammates are there, cheering me on and greeting me with hugs at the finish, though they could have left hours ago.  

Sure, it’s midnight and I have a Biology exam tomorrow, but it will all be worth it when I see Charlotte’s face after she opens the inspirational scrapbook that I’m making for her big race on Saturday. 

I cannot believe I was so stupid.  My backpack lies in disarray on the locker room bench and my wallet lies open beside it.  How could I forget to lock my locker? Salty tears start to emerge as I explain to a friend that I had all my money saved for the big track meet that night.  Now, I cannot even pay for food and a hotel room.  My tears turn to waterfalls of joy, however, when three different people pull twenties out of their wallets and tell me to just pay them back when I get the chance.

I surge to the finish line of the 1500 meter run, desperate to out-sprint my competitor in blue.   Leaning at the line, I snag first place by less than a hair. I move to the side while gasping for breath.  The girl in blue does the opposite however, sitting right down in the middle of the track and looking like her world had just collapsed.  The disappointed look from her coach says it all.  So I walk over and reach out a hand to help her up: “Nice race. You just pushed me to a personal record, thanks.”

“So I was procrastinating on my homework last night, as usual, and I made this.” Cara holds up a pink and white friendship bracelet for me to see.  I pause from my reading to look up and admire it: “That’s really pretty”! And before I know what’s happening, she takes my wrist and puts it on me.  “It’s for you,” she says with a grin.

To be honest, I’m not sure either why he chose to sit at our table today.  But the lonely look painted across his sorrowful face, as if he has nowhere else to go, breaks my heart. So instead of shooting him dirty looks like the rest of my table, I speak up: “Hey, I’m Eva.  Do you want a cookie?

So let’s pretend tomorrow,
It all came back to you.
If all your words and all your deeds
Returned in your great time of need
Would you succeed?
Or would you plead
For one who knew
love better than you?

*names are all changed to protect identities

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Everyone has a story that will break your heart


Scream your throat raw and cry your eyes dry.

Pain is persistent, the antidote is time.

Everyone has a story that will break your heart.

Listen to their tales before you depart:


 “But I love you.” I whisper through a steady waterfall of tears. She just shakes her head. “I’m sorry.” She stares down at the sidewalk, refusing to look me in the eye or glance at the single red carnation I hold out to her.  At this very moment I, a sorry young boy with an innocent love and a flower, know no worse pain than a broken heart.

 “Please help me” The message reads. “Talk to me” I reply.  Her life story riddled with pain and heartache scrolls across my computer screen and somewhere in the world she watches as my urgently typed reasons to not pull the trigger appear on her monitor.  Our conversation ends when she sends me her last message: “Don’t blame yourself.”  But I do.  And now it’s one a.m. and I’m crying my eyes out on the floor, my heart stinging with remorse, grieving for this internet stranger whom I failed to save.

Today, I’m lying in a hospital bed with my mom beside me.  All I can remember is the sensation of drowning and not being able to move my body.  The funny thing is I don’t know what hurts worse: whether it’s the constant twinge of pain up and down my spine or the fact that I’ll never fulfill my dream of dancing on Broadway.

“Yeah, everything’s fine” I affirm as I make eye contact with my mother. All I do is hope that she can’t see through my eyes and into my memory, haunted with pictures of my dad holding hands and laughing with some blonde Barbie that could be my older sister.  Guilt surges through my 13 year old body and feels like a razor slicing through my not-so-innocent heart.  I turn away so she cannot see the look on my face.

I almost feel a little guilty, handing over my bills, remembering that my five-year-old twins haven’t eaten in  almost three days.  But then I remind myself that I haven’t gotten high in four days. And soon it’s going to be too late to care anyway.    

“No” I scream “Stop . . . I don’t want to” My pleas seem to have no effect on my attacker but that doesn’t stop me from kicking him.  The calloused hands grip me tighter and don’t refuse to allow anymore squirms.   A wave of hot breath washes over me and I scream in anguish, but my silent apartment offers up no help.  Terror takes hold of my mind.  Even death sounds better than this.  The black dots begin seep into my eyes.  The last thing I remember before my vision disappeared entirely is his smoldering brown eyes: the eyes of my father.

I slide the razor tantalizingly over my left wrist wondering if what they say is true: that physical pain helps subside the emotional hurt.  I find out a second later when blood bubbles up from a fresh cut; Its true.

I inhale sharply.  My eyes widen and look about wildly for someone to save me froom the inevitable.  The walls seem to press in from all sides and my heartbeat must be flying off the charts.  My head begins to spin as my body shakes in terror.   I desperately wish to be anywhere but here.  The mask hiding my fearful face slips for an instant before I can recover it.  I suddenly remember where I am pull myself together.  Everything is okay, I tell myself.  And that’s also what I tell my teammates. Because, what girl is going to look up to a captain with panic attacks?

Everyone has pain; everyone cries.

Everyone has demons hiding in their eyes.

What’s your story?  What’s your view?

‘Cause the good news is

I’ll endure it with you
*Most of these stories are fictional and were created purely to produce the message that everyone has a story