Today you will be subjected to reading some of my random scribblings from last year. This is not (I hope) my best work. It isn’t very edited, I just found bits of this and that written here and there. So prepare yourself, I can be a little overly dramatic.
I need to sleep. I want to write. We never get what we want. No. I never do. Maybe you do, maybe someone does. Do I need what I want? No. I don’t want practical things. I want a fantasy. I hate reality. I won’t get what I want. Now I should sleep, because I’m in reality. I can’t go to my fantasy. Remember that. Fight the fantasy. Get used to reality.
Don’t let them push. Don’t let them pressure. If today might be your last don’t spend your last day stressing.
“I have an idea for a story.” The words came out suddenly. The two had been sitting as they often did, in comfortably silence.
“What did you say?” Endrian asked, struggling to pull his mind away from the book he had been reading. “You have a what?”
“An idea for a book… a story.” Nelmanox’s excitement was plain to see. His face had lit up as it always did after he had worked out some sort of a plan.
“Well?” Endrian knew very well what his brother expected but he simply looked at Nelmanox for a moment and then turned back to his book as though he was going to read again.
“Come on Endrian.” Nelmanox said looking annoyed. “Don’t act like you don’t want to know what it is.”
Endrian only smiled and replied, without even looking up. “What is it?”
“Are you determined to be impossible today?” Nelmanox was becoming more agitated.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Endrian’s voice was calm and he continued to look at his book, knowing how much it would aggravate Nelmanox. It worked instantly. Nelmanox rose from his chair so quickly he almost nocked it over. Then going over to Endrian he snatched his book away, looking like a small child having a fit.
“Won’t you stop it? You know I want to tell you about my idea and I know you are only pretending not to be interested.” Nelmanox was close to yelling the last few words. He stood glaring down at his brother. Endrian was not startled but finally looked up, smiling, and tried to hold back a laugh as he looked at Nelmanox. Setting his book aside Endrian then gave Nelmanox his full attention.
“You always did have such a temper.” Endian began. Then, seeing Nelmanox was about to speak, finished quickly. “Now sit down and tell me about this idea of yours.” Nelmanox kept glaring for a moment but since Endrian was cooperating at last, and Nelmanox could never keep his ideas to himself for long, he sat down and prepared to tell Endrian about his story.
Dear Ada, As you can imagine we are all overjoyed to hear you are expecting. Mother nearly collapsed on the floor when she heard, I wish you could have seen it. I wish you could have seen fathers smile. When we read your letter mother guessed right away. She started squealing and would have collapsed if father hadn’t guided her to the nearest chair. Then he just stood there smiling and muttering something about his little songbird. Mother is obsessed already. Every child we see is now compared to what your child will look like. Of course none of them are half as lovely as your baby will be. I hope we are able to come and see you soon. I can’t wait to be an uncle. Conn would be so proud. We love you Ada.
Have you ever experienced that moment? The world slows down. Time doesn’t matter. You’re not reaching. Just resting.
I write and hope that something good will appear on the page. I hope that a poem will surprise me when I’m finished. I sometimes think I’ll write something wise or memorable, but if I did would it matter? I just write. Words come out here and there. Sometimes they arrange themselves nicely. Sometimes they remain a jumble and never become anything important. Whatever the case, I must keep writing.
You don’t forget that the world is broken, it just doesn’t matter. For one moment you are you, and some one sees that, and they understand. They don’t mind that you’ve made mistakes. They let you be you. And you can breath. You can live. For just one moment nothing else matters. Someone sees you and they understand, they listen, and they love you still. You don’t feel like there is something wrong with you. You are who you are. It’s not perfect, but it’s peaceful. And that’s what matters.
I love road trips. I look out the window and watch all the scenery pass by. It’s beautiful. The problem is, as much as I love seeing it all roll past, a part of me always wishes I could stop and explore everything. I want to climb to the top of every hill, to dip my feet in every stream, to see what the view is from every mountain.