Scribbles the 2nd

I think it’s time for some more scribbles. At the beginning of this year I wrote a post (Scribbles) that was just random snippets of stories or little things that I had written throughout 2018. These were all things that I normally wouldn’t let people read because they’re not complete or they’re not edited or they just don’t really make sense if you’re not me.

Well, since I’m warning you that these are not polished, and may not make sense to you, I can now feel free to post whatever random things I find from the first half of this year.

March 2019

Bare feet on the hard packed earth. The wind at my back pushing me forward. My eyes close, feeling the moment coming. A whisper in my ear urges me forward.  “Let’s see you run.”

May 2019

Open Your Eyes

I believe that these nights are dark only because a dawn is coming that will pierce the blackest soul. And I believe that the darkest part of the night is when you close your eyes. So open you eyes, because it might already be morning. I know you’re scared. I know you think there’s no light down here, but you never know what you’ll see until you open your eyes. Let the light in, let the morning in, let the dawn pierce your skin. Let the hope in, just let a little hope in, and see there’s a new day about to begin.

June 2019

From The Book of Eyes

There are words in my head longing to get out. They beat against my skull threatening to shatter my mind into a million pieces. I can’t let them out. The words. The Eyesendill. They’re all the same. Those words tell a story that shouldn’t be told, a story the Eyesendill need. If I just let the words out… let them spill onto the paper…

But those are thoughts that bring me closer to giving in. Those are thoughts that the Eyesendill are waiting for. They can take those thoughts and twist them into dangerous things.

Lately it seems that all my thoughts are dangerous. So I try not to think. I try to shut out everything, to stop all the thoughts that could be used against me or anyone else.

I can’t.

They always find me.

Every time I think I’ve closed myself off, or shut myself away in a safe place, I hear their whisper. I feel that pulse in my head. The words are trying to get out, all the while telling me that I’ll let them out someday… I’ll set them free someday.

It will be my fault.

I know I can’t live like this forever.

My mind is splitting in two.

It will be my fault when you die.

July 2019

(I normally don’t explain things but in this case I think it’s necessary to know a few sort of “technical” things before trying to read this. It is a conversation between 2 people but it’s only the dialogue. So it basically reads like a script, only there is literally no indication of who is talking except the spacing. Sorry for my lack of clearness but I’m usually the only one reading it and I know who is who. I could add names or something to make your lives easier but for me it would ruin the effect. I’m not even sure why. Artists are so weird. So, just realize that it there is only a space when the character who has been speaking is done talking.)

Don’t tell me I’m growing up. I don’t want to and I’m not. I said I wasn’t going to grow up didn’t I?

Well…

I’m not growing up!

You never said you wouldn’t grow up. You said we’d always be friends and I told you not to grow up too fast. But the truth is… you are going to grow up. There’s nothing you can do about it. It’s not a bad thing.

I think it is. I mean I haven’t talked to you in nine months. How has it been that long? If we’re still friends why has it been nine months since we’ve talked? I didn’t even think about the fact that we hadn’t talked in a long time until last month, but did I say anything? No. We used to talk all the time. We would talk about dreams and fantasies. Remember when we were talking about the moon and how I talked to non living things a lot more than actual people. How come I don’t do that anymore?

We both know that as much as we love our fantasies… they’re not sustainable. And we do have to learn to live in reality. You know that learning to talk to real people is a good thing, right?

I guess. I just don’t feel like I’m really talking to people that much more. I’ve just stopped talking to all my friends like you. I know the fantasy might not be good but I never wanted to leave it completely. And now I don’t even know when the last time I talked to the moon was. I always forget to look at the stars. I don’t feel like I’m living as much as I used to, but maybe that was all just the fantasy.

I think sometimes you let one bad day feel like your whole life. You know that fantasies don’t last forever, no matter how deep you go you’ll always wake up one day and realize that you never actually escaped reality. We’ll always have dreams little girl. You know I’d never survive without dreams. But we have to figure out how to base our dreams in reality, or we’ll never have dreams that come true. Come on, you know what I mean. You can make your perfect fantasy world were all of your dreams come true and life is whatever you want it to be, but that won’t satisfy you any more than reality. You know it’s true. You can deny it and act like all you need or all you want is a fantasy world in your head but if that was really going to make you happy then what are you doing here after nine months? If that was the answer you would have been settled into your fantasy a long time ago, but you keep going back to reality. You keep being unsatisfied and depressed because you’re not finding what you’re looking for. What are you going to do? Go back and forth forever in a constant state of panic because you won’t let your mind settle anywhere. Honestly it’s a good thing you didn’t talk to me for nine months. I thought maybe you were moving on. Maybe you’d figured out what your reality was. I thought maybe you finally decided to stop coming back to your fantasies.

I know.

I’m sorry, but you know I want you to be happy. I mean really happy. Not just a day here and there. I want you to be able to move on, and stop coming back to me, because you have a life that you’d rather live. A life that isn’t a fantasy. I still do want us to be friends, you know that, but you can’t keep coming back to this fantasy. You’re not a kid anymore. You have to grow up. I’m sorry if I got in the way of that, but you do have to. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing. You’ll always be the same little girl that I’ve always known. But please don’t hold on to your little girl fantasies. You can’t stay here forever.

. . .

-E.M. Price

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