Along the Lines of Letters

Not just one but two letters in the mail today, and it doesn't matter that one is a single page and the other is more like eight, they both made my heart skip beats and my smile last for hours for their own, independent reasons.  

It's feelings like these that tell me I've found something truly beautiful.

It's nice to know he's in love with me, and not just the idea of me.

My dearest little sister,

It's exciting and scary to watch you fall in love with someone.  You and I both know that it's not a petty crush either, and we both know that we don't really know what it is, for neither you nor him.  There's a lot I wish I had the words to say, but for things like this, there just isn't.

I hope you always come to me and talk like we do now. I've grown to value our friendship so incredibly much, and I can honestly say that you're not only my sister but my closest friend.  We've been through hell and back, we both know that, and we both know it's not going to be easy these next few weeks.  But we'll keep fighting, and we'll only grow stronger because of it.

I suppose the reason this is so odd to me isn't the fact that you're in love with him, but that it makes me older to see it.  I look at you and I know what those little touches do to your heart, and the way his smile makes your breath stop in your throat.  I watch you with happiness, and a little sadness, knowing that he, too, will leave on a mission and you will go through what I am.  It's not something I would wish on anyone, but I know you're strong enough to make it through; we both are.  It'll be rough, just as I know you understand, but I hope you know I'm always here for you, even if it's two in the morning and you're still up crying because the world is simply too vast.  Remember that I've been there, and remember that I am still there sometimes.  Maybe I can offer you the comfort I've come to know, and the understanding of what love can really do.  I hope you don't give up on him, either, like everyone is telling you to do, because I know that look, and I know that it's not something that will go away easily, if ever.  Don't listen to them; even if they're right, take what makes you happy and run with it, because it's no use dwelling on the negative outcomes of what-if.

Dearest little sister, I love you and care for you and hope the best for you.  We're both long old enough to make our own decisions and understand the complexities of our hearts, but know that I will always do what I can to help you.  Unlike so many people in the world, we've found what it truly means to be sisters, and I cherish that more than you know.

Take care sis.  I love you much.

Along the Lines of Playlists

If you are reading this, I'm sorry.  I don't want it to hurt, for either of us.

I dreamed about you last night.  You were here and you were mine, and you had me wrapped in your arms and I didn't have to be strong anymore because you were fighting for me.  

It wasn't the dream that hurt; it was the waking up alone, all too aware that you are hundreds of miles and eighteen months away.  It was the desperation to go back to sleep, back to that dream, so that I could be with you again, that hurt.

And now it's time to sleep again, and I am terrified to dream.  I am scared that I will dream about you and go through the waking process once again, and yet... I am almost more scared that I won't get to see you again tonight.

"When you're dreaming with a broken heart 

Then waking up is the hardest part 

You roll out of bed and down on your knees 

And for a minute you can hardly breathe 

Wondering was she really there? 

No she's not 

She's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.

When you're dreaming with a broken heart

The giving up is the hardest part

She takes you in with her crying eyes

Then all at once you have to say goodbye

Wondering could you stay my love?

Will you wake up by my side?

No you won't.

You're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.

Now do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses, roses in my hand?

When you're dreaming with a broken heart

Then waking up is the hardest part."

Again, if you are reading this, I'm sorry.  I don't want it to hurt, for either of us.  

Along the Lines of Outside

It's odd to be on the outside looking in
As his life is turned inside out and upside down
Instead of being the one who is exposed.

It's odd to be on the outside looking in
When all I see is what has always been there
While they view something I've seen all along.

It's odd to be on the outside looking in
Wishing things were different for him, for me,
While I know that some things just aren't going to change.

Along the Lines of Disney Land

Whoever wrote

"It's a Small World"

is a liar. 

The world

is much to

vast,

and

on nights like these,

I want

to mourn

over just how big

it really is. 

I wish

far away

wasn't quite

so

far away.

Along the Lines of Wuthering Heights

"I cannot express it; but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is or should be an existence of yours beyond you.  What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here?  My great miseries have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great though in living is himself.  If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it. ..... Nelly, I am Heathcliff!  He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.  So don't talk of our separation again: it is impracticable."

Along the Lines of Childhood Movies

"Somewhere out there,
beneath the pale moonlight,
Someone's thinking of me and loving me tonight.

Somewhere out there,
Someone's saying a prayer,
That we'll find one another in that big somewhere out there.

And even though I know how very far apart we are,
It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star.

And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby,
It helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky.

Somewhere out there,
If love can see us through,
Then we'll be together, somewhere out there,
Out where dreams come true."

Ecclesiastes 3:1-11

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: 

a time to be born, and a time to die; 

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; 

a time to kill, and a time to heal; 

a time to break down, and a time to build up; 

a time to weep, and a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 

a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; 

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 

a time to get, and a time to sew; 

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 

a time to love, and a time to hate; 

a time of war, and a time for peace.  

What profit hath he that worketh in that wherein he laboureth?  

I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it.  

He hath made everything beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end."

I wish I could know when, if ever, and what the end result will be.  I wish I could understand what it is I am supposed to learn from this part of my life besides realizing how much you mean.  I wish I could understand what more I will be learning than how much I want and need you.  I wish I could know when, if ever, and what the end result will be.

Along the Lines of Seconds

If we only took a second to breathe
We might realize
We are so much worse than we seem
We might realize
We are lying through our teeth
If only we took a second to breathe.

If we only took a second to feel
We might realize
We have turned into dark cold steel
We might realize
We don't know what's real
If we only took a second to feel.

If only we to a second to hear
We might realize
We are turning into all we fear
We might realize
We have cried our last tear
If only we took a second to hear.

If only we took a second

And stopped.

If only took a second to breathe
We might realize
We are so much stronger than we seem
We might realize
We have stopped lying through our teeth
If only we took a second breathe.

If only we took a second to feel
We might realize
We have melted our hard, cold steel
We might realize
We understand what it means to be real
If only we took a second to feel.

If only we took a second to hear
We might realize
We can overcome our deepest fear
We might realize
We can smile and save a tear
If only we took a second to hear.

Along the Lines of... of...

It feels like ages since I last wrote something beautiful.  Words have been tumbling out of my mind and hands more like a mudslide rather than silk as I'm used to.  It's frustrating, especially as I try to formulate some sort of a plot as November looms ever more imminent.  

There are two stories I've been mulling over, and as brilliant as I think they have the potential to be, I do not feel like I have the... wisdom?  Experience?  To write them.  Both would be huge challenges, but have such potential.  Since I am at a loss of words for anything else at the moment, I'll try to spell them out a little.

The first would take place either in a restaurant or on a bus or train.  Each chapter would be the story of how one person in that setting came to be where they are, and, if it were a bus or train, where they are going.  It would be the short, individual stories of otherwise insignificant people, were it not for the fact that they were there, in that particular place.  The ending would be challenging, and I still haven't clearly decided what it would be, and I don't want to spoil it if anyone decides they'd be interested in reading.

The other plot I've played with would be written from the view of an apartment.  Most stories give you the interactions, the conversations at work, the monotony or the extraordinary circumstances that the characters live in.  Mine, however, would give you the little pieces in between.  You wouldn't know what went on in the character's day, who they encountered, or the significant events that brought them home.  It would be a story open to the reader to piece together, as the small, "in-between" parts would be the only thing revealed throughout the novel. It would examine what makes us continue on when we seemingly have nothing, it would show the integrity of the characters, what they are like behind closed doors. Characters would come and go, sometimes in a small family of three trying to make ends meet or a single college graduate looking for the next best thing.

Maybe they sound more promising in my mind.  Both would be challenging in their own ways, and as I said, I don't know if I am the most "qualified" to write either of them at only eighteen.  I guess my worry is that either piece will turn into a more commercial piece of literature rather than literary fiction.  I want to be more of an Emily Bronte than Stephanie Meyer, and I'm worried I just don't have it in me right now.  My plots and characters deserve the talent they need to reach their full potential, and what if it turns out that I don't have that skill?