I think what I really want to do right now is take a creative writing class. There’s nothing else I want to do except take this class. Sadly, my school doesn’t offer creative writing classes. Well, if they do, it’s probably only for English majors/minors and/or writing minors. Sigh. This lack of motivation is killing me slowly. I look at my red moleskin, empty because I have nothing to write about. This isn’t even writers block. At this point, I’m desperate for an idea just so I can have writers block. At least I’ll have an idea and I’ll start writing. But this ? This is far more worse than writers block. The itch, desire, craving to write fiction is getting at me. I feel as though I’m walking through life like a zombie. I’m zoning out frequently. I’m day dreaming constantly, trying to spark an idea from my imagination. I’m not even focusing on life right now. All I want to do is achieve an idea, lock myself away in a room and write. I want my words to reflect my thoughts and emotions. This pent up frustration is eating at me and I don’t know how long I can keep up this facade of “everything is fine. It’ll come to you soon.”

I never expected you to stay. So, why are you asking me for a reason to?

When you’re in college, you meet a plethora of people who come from all different kinds of backgrounds, who have different values, beliefs and cultures. In my first semester alone, I met many different people who constantly help me see the world in their eyes.

One time, a friend of mine came to my dorm room at almost five in the morning. She couldn’t sleep and she really wanted to talk to me about something. She pulled me out of bed and we walked to Founders Hall( which is where majority of my classes are). At Founders Hall, there is this great, rustic balcony overlooking the descending hill and the vast beauty of the Hudson River. We took a seat, she pulled out a cigarette and started to talk. It wasn’t any ordinary conversation. She shared a lot of personal information about herself with me that she has done with someone in a while. She talked and I just listened. As the smoke swirled in the brightening blue sky, we shared a lot about each other that we didn’t know about one another. Maybe it was the intimate setting we set ourselves up for, the sunrise or how personal it was, but, I got to know her outside of her pretty face.

There will always be a moment when you’re given the opportunity to get to know someone more than what you’re supposed to know. Giving up that chance might ruin your possibility for ever getting that chance again. It’s your life, take it by the horns.

My skin prickles as millions of goosebumps dance across my skin. The air conditioner’s cool winds and the dreary, wet, brisk air from outside blows throughout the small room, gliding against my bare legs and arms. What I had once, was now gone. Out of sight, out of mind. I shiver and I rethink the idea of wearing so little to bed. Everything is in a shade of grey. It’s grey in this room. It’s grey outside. Grey, grey, grey. Color doesn’t exist anymore. The only color I see…I crave, can only be found….two bodies in a bed shift positions as they try to find a comfortable spot. The linens shuffle and one of them lets out a small groan of protest. The shuffling stops. Everything stops. I turn my eyesight to the forest that is now my backyard. I purse my lips and suck my teeth. The only color that existed was grey, green and brown. What I wanted was lovely shades of pink, red, oranges; passion, love, lust, romance. The wind shuffles the trees and I’m broken out of my reverie. These things didn’t exist here, well, not for me, that is.

chieflegit:

It was more along the terms of false hope and pipe dreams than concrete foundations. Free falling and elastic, there wasn’t a definite feeling and I loved it. The thrill of anonymity and curiosity kept me on my toes and it was exhilarating. This was how you lived your life and I adopted this way easily. As I started to learn more about the wonders of you, many cursed your body language. You weren’t going to have a permanent place in my life, one told me. At the time, I wondered what they meant by that statement. Was it just to scare me or truly warn me about the future? But, I just summed it up into paranoia and ignored everyone. I was right; naivety was best friend. 

Until, kind words turned into harsh realities and sharp blades. Secret conversations became the world’s biggest newsflash. When your fleeting personality but loving nature became too much and you ran. Time is still moving and wounds still hurt. Every second, I hold another piece of things left behind and I lock it away into a place that no one can reach. Because, there are places that shouldn’t be revisited again and you accept it. A foundation is what holds everything in place. A strong foundation can keep anything from falling into pieces. Foundations are what keeps everything worthwhile. 

He doesn’t know the word Impossible,

Doesn’t care where I’ve been and doesn’t care where we’re going.

He takes me as I am, 

and that isn’t easy.

He’s beautiful, so beautiful.

Sometimes, I think he’s truly crazy,

and I love it.

His eyes, that’s where hope lies.

That’s where blue skies always meets the sunrise.

His eyes, that’s where I go,

When I go home. 

This time, I’ll actually send them out. Letters can be informal but very personal. Also very memorable, letters are a keepsake and texting and calling is overrated.

writeoneleaf:

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“it’s not illegal to carry more than two condoms in your wallet. However, you may be suspected for prostitution.” Kate peered into my wallet as I fixed my bow tie. Glancing sideways at her, I frowned as she pulled them out, inspecting them as if she’s never held one. I grunted and she drops them on the floor.

“sometimes, I wonder why you know so much about sex.” I spray some cologne on my wrists.

“sometimes, I wonder if you realize that I’m not eight anymore.” Kate was right. She wasn’t eight anymore. At the blossoming age of sixteen, Kate wasn’t a little girl anymore. But that doesn’t mean I lost the right to protect her from anything and everything. I stared at her as she buckled the straps of her silver, rhinestone crusted shoes. My little sister was now a young lady, going to her boyfriend’s senior prom. My little sister was becoming the woman that I fought tooth and nail for her to become.

“I know you aren’t eight anymore.” I closed my mouth at my slight confession and turned away from her. The doorbell rang and I grabbed my corsage from my dresser.

“Matthew?” she always called me by my full name and I was the only one to let her do so. I nodded my head and waited for her to say something.

“Don’t get arrested tonight.” she smiled a bright smile, envying many and resembling our mother’s.

“I love you too Kate.”

It was more along the terms of false hope and pipe dreams than concrete foundations. Free falling and elastic, there wasn’t a definite feeling and I loved it. The thrill of anonymity and curiosity kept me on my toes and it was exhilarating. This was how you lived your life and I adopted this way easily. As I started to learn more about the wonders of you, many cursed your body language. You weren’t going to have a permanent place in my life, one told me. At the time, I wondered what they meant by that statement. Was it just to scare me or truly warn me about the future? But, I just summed it up into paranoia and ignored everyone. I was right; naivety was best friend. 

Until, kind words turned into harsh realities and sharp blades. Secret conversations became the world’s biggest newsflash. When your fleeting personality but loving nature became too much and you ran. Time is still moving and wounds still hurt. Every second, I hold another piece of things left behind and I lock it away into a place that no one can reach. Because, there are places that shouldn’t be revisited again and you accept it. A foundation is what holds everything in place. A strong foundation can keep anything from falling into pieces. Foundations are what keeps everything worthwhile.