#felling

this started off as a joke but now I'm stuck here

Written by Stargirl-ily

For the first time in a long while

I felt too much.

When I looked into your sad, tired eyes,

I saw my soul reflected through you.

I saw a whole world made just for me,

yet that world didn’t exist,

and it was never meant for me.

You were never mine,

my mind overthinks

and my heart carries a heavy sorrow.

Everything wonderful and incredible

you showed me was a lie,

even you yourself, darling,

even if you try to deny it,

you were a sham.

Now I’m alone in my room,

crying and trying to write poetry about you,

listening to Lana Del Rey in the background.

How could I rid myself of this pain?

I would be capable of opening my chest

with a sharp knife,

to take out and abandon my heart

so I wouldn’t feel again

the pain you caused me.

I am so naive,

because a broken person

fixed me at the worst possible moment,

only to break me again.

Now those eyes, which were so sad,

lonely, empty, and tired,

shine like the soft light of the moon,

they are as warm and sweet as honey,

showing and gazing,

not at a world, but a universe

that I am not a part of

and never will be.

Listening to music, I think I should

forget you, that you never existed,

and that everything that happened between us

was nothing more than a dream.

I miss you, my love, but you make me sick.

I hope someone better comes into my life soon,

someone who makes me feel

in control,

like standing in the warmth of a sunny day,

bathed in sunlight,

something as sweet, soft, and tender as honey,

something that never leaves me,

April Awakens: Coastal Walks, Bluebell Woods, and Fields of Gold April 2025 stirred the South East into life. From misty bluebell dawns in the High Weald to windswept beaches at Rye Harbour, the month was a patchwork of light, colour, and seasonal shift. I explored new paths and returned to familiar ones — chasing moonsets, scouting rapeseed fields, and tracking spring’s quiet arrival through…

"Otis...we need you at the face!" Ezra Longhauler's voice was strained, like he was forcing himself to maintain his composure. "Felling accident! Skids is..." A strangled cry erupted from the other end; it sounded like Spinney, Skid's brother. "It's bad. Real bad. County is sending up a doctor, but...I-I don't know if he's...g-gonna..."

Otis spun and gunned his engine, speeding past his ten year old son, James, who was staring at him with a horrified expression. "Close the shop and watch your sister!" He called out, not waiting for a response. Good thing he hadn't taken off his vest or his tool mounts; Skids couldn't afford any delay.

He tore out onto Route 9 and gunned it north towards Small Hill, pushing his engine as hard as it could go to make time.

Logging was dangerous; everyone knew that. And Otis would have periodic nightmares about all the things that could go wrong at one of the Longhaulers' logging camps.

Now, it would seem, his worst fear had been realized.

Felling accident.

This was a new face; old growth. 80 foot tall trees wider than most buildings and weighing twenty plus tonnes.

Otis grimaced. A tree that large could flatten a truck, even one as large as Skids.