My Writing

Singing sadly, she played a melancholic note as she rang out her innermost noise. The tension that had been building up for weeks now let out a long wail – a wail that had been inside of her for much too long. Yet still, she worked. She worked every ounce that her body had, and rang with the highest dignity – softly, quietly, she spoke tones that she didn’t even realize were hers. This was something else – something ethereal that had taken over her life.

As she went, further and further into her mind, she unlocked the most sacred of ideas, of things, of moments captured that she would never forget. She pondered everything about her life, and how empty she felt. How she may never be able to learn and to love in the way that she knew she wanted to. She knew that she must find that someone. That someone that she could love with all her heart, but she feared that she was incapable of doing just that.

She wondered about how long she had to fix herself. How long until she could be sure that she could give her heart to another without expecting anything in return. How long would she take to heal from previous wounds and rid herself of those deep scars – the same scars that kept her at an arm’s distance from every truly giving herself again.

She had always belonged to herself, yet she desperately yearned to belong to another. But the truth was that every time she tried, she got stomped on, hurt, killed even. No one truly understood her. They expected her to be what she couldn’t, what screamed inside of her never to be. Yet she still tried because she still believed in love.