#writingexcerpt

“There’s a hunger in me poetry can’t feed. A longing too wild for language. So I bleed metaphors just to keep breathing.”

african architecture

medieval methods of washing clothes

the history of religion

oceanic mythology

the renaissance era's idea of masculinity

the colour wheel

the history behind braids

donna tartt's childhood

the influence of cigarettes on women in the 1920s

how, exactly, swords are forged

the history of cinnamon (very interesting!!)

the different shades of maroon and their names

who the first person was to dissect a human body

the side affects of anaesthesia

your favourite university's mantra

the black dahlia murder

the controversy surrounding psychiatry

why do we smile to express joy

music theory and how it shaped the making of instruments

symbolism in renaissance art

the rat race

the most poisonous plants

the history of calligraphy

what ancient greece thought about music

how to bake sourdough bread from scratch

conspiracy theories

how to study latin

turkish proverbs

the history of metaphors

the process of erosion

the anchor / release

"How noble, how blind you are." His laugh was muffled, shaken yet cruel. "You speak of love as freedom, yet you pull it like a knife." The storm behind his eyes, barely contained. "Admit it, darling. You enjoy being the one thing beyond my grasp."

He had been working in the mines for the past three months and he was beginning to cough like the others did.

A crooked picture ornamented the otherwise bare wall. That and the piano were his only valuable possessions. He would come back home every night and see both of them, one hanging a little too much on the left, one yawning with some of its off-tune teeth missing.  There used to be a midsize mirror on the floor, its back against the wall, but as the weeks passed, as his arms and legs grew thin and as his eyes adopted a permanent look of worry, he had gotten rid of it.

Before lighting the kerosene lamp, seconds after entering through the door, he would sit down in front of the piano and would let his weakened, tired, fingers fall onto the keys. He wasn’t a very good player, he would have to pause between some of the notes in order to cough.  He played clumsy nocturnes, only alighted by the moonshine, the grime on his hands making the keys stick to his fingers. It was always quiet, the neighbors were fast asleep and he would be alone with his moon. The tears would trickle onto his cheeks, mixing with the dirt on his face, as he thought of her.

He was scared that he would forget what she looked like. He would slightly tilt his head to the left every day, but the picture was blurry and he was certain that she was prettier in real life. You couldn’t tell by looking at it that she would always say “Keep the change” at the cashier, even though they could’ve used the extra dollar for another day’s worth of soup.

“Keep the change”, he would sometimes whisper. His lips pressing against each other, his tongue touching his palate while he said those three words- it made her seem more real. It was the concrete in the abstract of sentiment, it was feeling her pulse beat against his skin.

The moon seemed far away that night. It looked as if it were crying.

1. Your life with be a back and forth roller coaster ride. You will face almost death experiences, and you’re going to choose to live anyway.

2. What you wish for, won’t always come easy. Sometimes your heart will break, other times you’ll be jumping in excitement from the euphoria you cannot contain. Nothing is guaranteed.

3. There will be plenty of boys who will want to lift you off your feet, but if none of them makes it better than being single, don’t waste your precious time. It’s not worth it. Especially if it means risking your heart for someone who is incapable of making you feel whole.

4. Try a little more each time. Whether it’d be falling in love, or even studying for an exam that worth half your marks. You will improve yourself for the better.

5. You will gain friends, and you will loose friends. People will go out of their way to seclude you from others — they will claim you as their own. Don’t give into their selfishness. They are not worth the tears, or the time. However, when you gain an old friend, keep them. Because if someone really loves you, and cherishes you, they will come back around. They will continue to support you, and appreciate you, rather than keep you hidden.

6. Forgive. Forgive yourself, and allow yourself to be free from the weight on your shoulders. There is so much more to life than burdening yourself over something temporary. Become immersed in forgiveness and soak yourself in love.

7. Seek help. When you’re the most hurt, the most defeat, do not go on this journey alone. People are there to guide you. Friends, family, and if that’s not enough, there are councillors who will happily give you insight on your situation. They will be patient with you, and they will try their very best to give you the care that you need. Do not feel as if you’re not “sad” enough or “anxious” enough. No matter how you feel, it is always the best decision to talk to someone. You are not alone.

8. You are going to cry. On your bedroom floor at 3am questioning yourself as to why things had to go the way they did. You will pinpoint every insecurity, every flaw, and yet you will love yourself anyway, because you are worthy of love. You are worthy of being adored.

9. Sometimes you will backslide from Christ, but the beautiful thing is that Christ does not run from you. Whatever circumstance you’re in, he will continue to accept you as you are. No matter how far you’ve gone, no matter what you did, because his love is unconditional. There is no boundaries for his adoration for you. For he gave his one and only son to save you from eternal judgement.

They spoke of forever as if it were a place. But forever was just the hallway between their glances. Love rarely dies, it only forgets the way home.

“I have lived and slept beside endless metaphors, and each time I woke up devoured. Not every poem leaves you alive. Some are written to end you.”

The clock ticked without mercy, yet no time seemed to pass. Days stretched like shadows, but they were never truly owned. If only time were measured in hours, not by the moments missed.