“ I thought love was supposed to be something real! It wasn’t supposed to be some made up fairytale. Maybe I wasn’t meant for it but then again everyone around seems to not be fit for it too. Maybe they made it up. Maybe it was something we made up. But whatever happened it didn’t matter. I thought love was supposed to be this amazing thing we all look forward to. But in the end, it turned out to only do the opposite: break someone’s heart.”

(Disclaimer I still think love is real. I wrote this from someone’s perspective who doesn’t believe in love.)

“I am done. Done! I have given him everything, my words, my body, my heart! And all he has given me is a knife, punctured clean through my soul. It hurts, more than anything I’ve ever felt. It’s like ice, slowly creeping through your veins, freezing the very warmth of your blood. His silence, oh his silence! How it ruptures every strain of my heart! How I wish I could inflict this very pain upon him, but, I-I could never hurt him, and I fear that is the worst thing about me. I am no vengeful soul. I only wish happiness upon all. But oh how I wish I were different, strong enough to throw the very knife he stabbed me with right at his blackened heart! But I won’t, no. I will just slowly bleed out as he tears my heart apart limb from limb.”

You need to work hard, For those you love and yourself. Huge obstacles make you tougher, Over times make you stronger; Choice is not going to come, You have to fight for it. Harder you work, More choices you have; In between the present and future, Bumpy roads along the way…

They do not understand how it is in my nature to consume. Humans, animals. Mortals! They are all alike. Passionless, uncreative being the lot of them! And yet they scream and scamper when I crawl from my watery tomb. I have been trapped for millennia, and it feels wonderful to stretch my wings and wrap my tentacles around prey. Their buildings and cars are mere playthings; a rough exoskeleton hiding the delicious morsels inside. I only wish they had more originality. Even the ones who revere me bore me to no end! Groveling, sniveling little worms, not even worth a second glance. Their only attribute is being convenient and willing food. If I allow some of them to live, they spread my message and expand my cult, bringing me more effortless food. How truly wonderful it is! Be even after hundreds of years of slumber, they have not changed an ounce. It bores me, but just as equally, I love to hear them chant…   “Hail Cthluhu. Praise Cthulhu.”

It’s not very easy coming back from the dead.

Once the tears and jubilations have faded, you start to see the ways they’d started to move on. It’s not so simple to just reverse that.

Dane- I feel like he looks right through me. Like he thinks I really am dead; and maybe I’m just a ghost. Isadora talks about me in the past tense and jumps a little when I clear my throat. Sometimes I watch how she commands the room and wonder if she enjoyed not having me there to steal her thunder.

And then there’s this kid. I can’t hate him, it’s really not his fault that any of this happened but seriously- how fast did they find him? Did they replace me the day after they thought I had died? He sits at the opposite end of the table and kinda slinks back when I look at him. Part of me wants to introduce myself personally; quell some of his fears, but his quivering lips make me feel like some rotting zombie risen from the grave.

Zach’s arm has been in a sling since I returned. I assumed it was from mission- we’re all quite accustomed to frequent injuries. But he bites his lip and goes silent when I ask him about it. He is always covering his eyes these days, trying to hide how bloodshot they always are. I noticed the window in our bedroom has a new pane of glass in it. I wonder what happened to the old one.

If I were Eleanor from “Eleanor and Park’’ ———— In a world that doesn't fit, where the edges are sharp and the corners don't sit, I am auburn and awkward, a misfitting piece, in the jigsaw of high school, where comforts cease. They say red is the color of passion and love, but for me, it's the taunts from the grades above, The ones blind to the fire that burns in my soul, the dreams and desires that make me whole.

I am more than the clothes that don't quite cling right, more than the whispers that follow at night, I am Eleanor, fierce, with a heart set ablaze, walking through life's unforgiving maze.

Park, he sees me, beyond the facade, in his eyes, I'm not odd, not flawed, he's the melody in a world out of tune, the soft silver light of a benevolent moon.

But here, in this moment, it's just me and my voice, and the power within, that formidable choice, to rise from the ashes of ridicule's flame, to own my story, my life, my name.

So let them stare, let them see what they will, for I will remain unbroken still, with every step, a path I compose, where it leads, perhaps only the universe knows.

Art is only finsihed when the artist walks away Love is the same

I met him in fall When the leaves echoed melodies of movement And children climbed trees far too tall for safety When color was everywhere, And I didn’t have to search for it.

I didn’t kiss him when I felt like it Or when I wanted to I kissed him when there was no other choice. It was him, or the darkness He acted as light to me It was weird, that first time For weeks we almost thought we made a mistake Then something else appeared Like a bird perched on a blanket of snow It was something bigger than a need to kiss A need to be near A craving so deep you almost can’t put it into words so you have to sing instead Like art, it’s a work Alive and changing, Fluid but sharp And I’m not ready to walk away

I know what they expect. I know what they want me to do. A well-bred lady such as myself should find the choice to never let that woman darken my doorway ever again as easy as breathing.

But I can barely breathe as I think of turning her out, of turning her away. She’s the strongest woman I have ever known but my rejection of her would destroy her and send her to perdition.

No matter that there are those who think she belongs there. For playing the merry widow after the death of my poor dear brother Charles. For stealing the man betrothed to her very own sister. For causing my darling husband Ashley’s heart to be cleft in two, even if he will never leave me and our son for her.

Because I know something he does not know. I am not even sure she realizes it herself. She does not truly love my husband. She loves the ideal and idea of him. She does not know the real him or perhaps she will not allow herself to really see.

That she is more a man than he will ever be. With more courage and determination and love in her heart than I have ever known. All of these things she showed when she saved me and the most precious of all things to me, my boy, Beau.

The hour for Ashley’s party is upon me and I will put on my widest, truest smile for her, my dear Scarlett, and society be damned!

The song... I heard a song today That reminded me of the way things use to be. I am a fool for I should had fought harder For what we had. ©️Jasmine

If I were a bird I would fly to you land on your windowsill. Waiting for you to open your window So I could see your face. I would fly there everyday To be a part of that morning That you look at everyday. ©️Jasmine