Ennairbsihctib.

A liar, a psycho, a heartless soul A lie, a tantrum, a bottomless hole. Never there, always late Always lacking, never great. Disappointment and disbelief Causing heartache and grief. Heartless soul to where you reside Soulless heart to whom you abide.

Quote.

"Sometimes it makes more sense to do something that makes no sense."


A quote I created which was inspired by how I felt when watching a movie called "One Week".

Prelude to Short Story

The scary part wasn't not knowing. Now that she knew, the apprehension seemed to envelope her very core. The dawn still came; the clouds still formed, and the night still cascaded over the mountain tops at sunset.  Her existence did not matter in the course of nature.  Mother Earth continued her daily routine without disruption.  But how could this be?  One of her daughters, a seed of life, personified humanity was suffering. It mattered not in the scheme of the universe.  But in a small town, whispers of terminal disease were something that could condemn anyone to a mundane life of question and answer panels and cheesy get well cards from forgotten relatives.  So although the earth was not mourning the morose situation, she was with her loved ones by her side.

Reluctantly, she answered each well wish, went to each appointment, and agreed to every syllable mentioned by the swarm of physicians that were helping with her case.  Although she felt like a lost cause, she pressed on. There wasn't much she could do other than what she was already doing.  She didn't see the psychologist yet, but other than that she was doing everything that should could to get "wicked healthy", as the radiation doctor would say.  Medicines, surgeries, radiation, complications; these were words that were like strangers to her.  Never had daily life turned into such weighing and measuring, waiting and thinking.  Sure, thinking and dwelling were two of her unfortunate hobbies; however, thoughts like these were never topic of conversation even in her mind.  The subject typically was suitable for a kitchen table.  Fortunately, her thoughts were only inner monologues, otherwise it is safe to say the next hoop to jump through would be a straight jacket.

Opening Prelude to Something Great.

After wanting a love like in the movies for so long and never finding it, I began to think it didn't exist.  Maybe true love was a figment of imaginations, something created, not something that could actually happen.  I felt like time and time again I fell in love, none of them amounting to a thing.  Pretending I was in love was something I became good at, not admittedly my most endearing quality.

Does true love really exist?  Is there one person out there that the fates have so graciously betrothed us to? What if we never meet that person?  What if we walk our entire life never feeling true love because we never cross paths with "the one"?  Or maybe we're all wrong.  Maybe there isn't just one person out there.  Maybe a Shakespearean classic is too much to ask of life and love.  The most we can hope for in this life is to wake up each day with a reason to smile.

A New Me

Where I was, who I had become, was a soulless version of myself.
In the unforgivable desert, a vast unpersonified human being standing on the edge.
The precipice of insanity, a place of unrest, was where I laid my head.

But I've seen better days since.
An oasis has appeared in the sand.
A mirage it was not, no falsity or darkened dreams.
The hopeless oracle that was me, dissipated into the stratosphere.
A new hope has blossomed, true self emerging to find peace.

Love is But a Flower

Walking through a field of willow trees,

Your hand in mine, feel the breeze.

The colors, the air

So perfect, without a care.

Pick me a flower,

stay for an hour.

Never leave me.

As we walked along the river, sat on the swing, I realized that I have been lost for far too long.  I took my own happiness away from me without knowing. And now? It's like a light bulb went off in the Dark Ages. The nicest day, sunshine with beautiful cumulonimbus clouds hanging in the cerulean sky, was the backdrop for it all. The feelings, sure they already existed, already were there, but the perfection of that afternoon signified that this love, this gorgeous romance wasn't going anywhere. Dandelion wisps, willow trees, flowers, the river. Sometimes, a picked flower is more romantic. He walked over and picked the prettiest pink flower for me, brushing my hair back placing it in my hair. The next moment, grabbing my chin and kissing me sweetly. This moment, every moment with him is perfect.

Assume.

Assumption.
Hurts us all.
Assumption.
Silent death.
Assumption.
The hurt.
Assumption.
Stop assuming.