A Dark Soul

Tears were running down her cheeks and she couldn’t stop them.Eve had been crying for over and hour and nothing was making her feel better.There were so many emotions stuck in her chest that she could barely breath.She felt alone in the blackness of the night and the sound of the cars passing by was almost inaudible.
She tried not to cry, to cope with everything that happened, but she couldn’t.Sometimes Eve blamed herself for having a sensitive heart and often a dark soul.Honestly, she was a good person and everybody loved her, but she felt worthless.She just thought about bleeding to death in the most darkest moments of her existence.At this point, she was feeling worthless, heartbroken and sad.So sad that the room felt like a prison she couldn’t escape.No, not the room.Her life itself became a prison, a labyrinth full of misteries.Eve was sick of trying and failing to discover them, to find the pieces of the puzzle again.Poison was running through her veins instead of blood.It made no sense to become whole again.That wasn’t even one of her choices.Death, on the other hand, was.She wanted everything to end, right there.Nothing was ending, it was just begining.And the pain, the pain was unbearable like all her insides were breaking at that point with every breath she took, with every beat of her cold heart .Her face was a mess: blood-red eyes, wet cheeks, a sad expression which would make you want to hold this lonely girl.She didn’t care about it anymore, just wanted a way out of suffering.A new path to walk on.To be loved.To be cared for.To be happy.
Suddenly, she got up and went to a brown drawer hidden in the corner of the suffocating room.Eve opened it quietly and inside there was a black shape, a gun.She took it , loaded it and then…felt her breath stop for a second.She couldn’t do it.After all this time, she didn’t have the courage.She felt hopeless and afraid, but it was more to life than just this and she knew it well enough.Memories of her childhood years came back to her in a rush: when she won the first prize for being the best writer at a competition, the first time she went on a rollercoaster, her first crush, her first kiss.All that made her feel special, but still full of grief.Mixed feelings drove her to this point.Luckily, Eve had a heart and a mind that wanted to fight and she wanted to live.To breath the air, to fall in love again, to get married and have kids, to be happy. She loved people and she didn’t want to hurt them.It was more to life than this.It was more to life than pain and she knew that no matter how painful would be to let go of the past , she would survive.Sometimes the hard way was the best way, but that didn’t stop more tears to make her vision blur.A smile appeared on her face in spite of the fact that she was overwhelmed with negative emotions.Something was making her feel good even though her insides were screaming “kill yourself, just end it” and that something was a feeling that conquered all of them.That was love.The most powerful emotion of all and yet the most dangerous.She thought about the paradox:” if you love until it hurts there would be no more pain, only more love”.That was what she understood that night.There was no more pain left in her soul, just peace and love.

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The Perfect Ending

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.
Delicious Ambiguity.”-Gilda Radner
I am here.Just a simple writer who wants the best.Actually, a writer who wants the perfect story.As a reader I understand that you want this not to be long and if it is you want it to be worth reading.If you don’t want to continue, stop right now.
So as I said every writer wishes to achieve something as close to perfection as possible.When I first started to write I thought that it would be so much easier to create art, but in fact it wasnt’t.Still isn’t.It means lots of work and compassion towards what you write.I believed that a piece of writing would be perfect, but there is not such stuff as a perfect piece of writing.Although it could be perfect for one person: me.Or it could be perfect for you as a reader, because I can’t lie, I’m subjective.You are not.Anyway, the idea is everything can be perfect in an imperfect way and I hope you understand the metaphor.It is the greatest achievement to change.Why?In this way you grow.In a weird and subtle way I developed with everything I wrote so far.I must admit that at the beginning I was that girl who wanted so badly perfection, but I don’t want it anymore.What makes my way of writing so “perfect” is the fact that it is not perfect at all.It has mistakes and it is normal.I am human and flawed.Can’t find the right words all the time or the right way to say the stuff I want to.As the saying above mentions we have to take the best chance we have in life.Not every poem is going to rhyme and not every story would be great for you as a reader.Life is about changing and accepting the present.That is how you grow.While writing I get the chance to understand myself better and when I am reading I can understand others better.I think it is some kind of magic spell.What I mean to say is take every chance you have.Not everything I write can be amazing, that depends of how I feel and how I explain it.What matters in the end (and I will be blunt here) is that the perfect piece of writing is imperfect in all its glory and beauty.
I am glad that I confessed this and I really wish to thank from the core of my heart the people who read my posts, because you motivate and inspire me to change and be better.I love you all.

The Broken Guitar

The rays of light made their way easily through the tree branches.Some got caught on Emily’s hair and a smile formed on her lips.She was writing something in her rainbow-coloured notebook, full of drawings and bitter-sweet stories.Occasionally there were some heartbreaking poems, too.The thing is, writing was her life.Words scattered on some merely pages gave her power to make people feel the way she felt.”You make art when you write”, someone told her once.The way she could do it remained a mystery that she would never quite truly comprehend.It all started with the boy approaching her in a friendly way.
He was taller than her with green eyes and brown hair.Very fashionable, as always, the boy wore a black shirt and blue jeans that fit him perfectly.
“Hi”, he said shyly in a low tone, almost afraid to bother her.
“Hello, Mike.What’s up?”, she smiled at him playfully.
“I…I mean…I am sorry, Em.You know?”, he told her and his eyes looked sad, almost shattered like some broken pieces of glass.
“Sorry for what?”
“I mean…I am sorry…For breaking your heart.I didn’t want to do it and i love our friendship and you seem like such a nice person and….”
“Stop” , she started laughing so hard that some people turned around to look at them.The boy felt embarrassed a little bit and blushed.
“Come.Sit next to me.”
He didn’t really understood how but he felt his feet moving and suddenly he was down on the bench, sitting next to her.
“Let me tell you a story..”
“Is it a sad one?”
“Maybe.Maybe not.”, she smiled and started to speak clearly in a magical way:
“Once upon a time there was a girl who wanted so badly to play the guitar , but she couldn’t.The chords of the instrument have been broken and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t fix them.It was like a spell.Then, one day, no different from any other, a boy came around and fixed them for her.He didn’t ask for anything in return, but she gave him the most precious gift: her heart.She spent many days singing with him, laughing and joking around.They became close friends and she was always happy, because he filled a void in her life.Many months passed.After that, the boy just vanished out of the blue.She searched for him, everywhere, but she couldn’t find him.The girl cried herself to sleep every night and she was so sad.At some point everything was just too much and she wanted to play a song, to remember him.She took the guitar and a paper fell down on the floor from inside.On the paper were just some simple words “the meaning of happiness: find it “.She didn’t get it at first and smashed the guitar as tears ran down her cheeks.”
“Wait…what happenes to the boy?”
“Getting there.Be patient….She never called him again, because she didn’t have to…and the story ends with just some words written on his paper: I found it”
“I don’t get it.It doesn’t make any sense.It ends like that?”
“Yeah…what is the problem?”
“Where is him?He was her friend.How could he vanish like that?It is not fair…”
“Don’t you get it?The story it’s not about him.It’s about her.The way she understood what happiness really is.She didn’t need him anymore, because she knew that as long as you keep someone in your heart, you don’t lose them.”
“Why did you tell me that story?”
“To show you that you didn’t broke my heart.You fixed me.I found the meaning of happiness.”
“What is it?The meaning?”
“Being who you are.No matter what others tell you.Living your life and loving yourself.I think it is different for each person, but this is my opinion.The girl from the story had a life in shape of a guitar and the chords were her soul.That’s why they were broken, but he fixed them for her.It wasn’t fair.He knew it.That’s why he left.To let her heal her own soul and find peace.”
They both got up and hugged each other.No words were needed.Emily’s broken pieces were healed forever with only one warm hug, a story about a boy, a broken guitar and a piece of paper.

Photography And Pain

Michelle was sitting at her desk, staring out of the window at the drops of rain which were touching the clear surface of the innocent glass.She liked photography and loved to capture moments just by taking some pictures.Photography meant life for this girl enjoying the beauty of the melodious rain.Her life was usually a mix of mistakes and bad decisions, but that was not what bothered her at the moment, because today she was happy.It didn’t seem like that, though.She looked heartbroken, hit by pain, but actually Michelle was thinking about the people she had known for a long time.She was the kind of girl with brown eyes, a pretty smile on her face and long blonde hair.Always feeling alive around other people.
Today, her blank expression was caused by one of her good friends.Michelle thought that friends were meant to trust each other and not abandon people in their time of need.It had happened so many times before, but she hadn’t learned the harsh lesson until now.It was the moment when she realized that no matter who would come across she would never trust people so easily again.
Somewhere deep inside her mind was sinking a hidden thought: “to love is to destroy and to be loved is to be the one destroyed”.She remembered the story of a boy who tamed a falcon and made it his friend.It was a sad story, unfortunately.The father of the boy killed the falcon and said those words to his son so he would never teach others how to love, because love is weakness.
A tear escaped from one of her beautiful eyes and she shoved it away, buried along with the words she would never say.The way she felt now was utterly magic.Michelle didn’t know why, but even the photographs she took spoke to her in another language, a foreign one she didn’t understand.The moments seemed strange and wrong as she had a different opinion about some people.It wasn’t quite hatred, more like a subtle disappointment and a blow she hadn’t seen coming.Life, she supposed.Maybe it was meant to be.You couldn’t really stay in the way of fate and she didn’t choose to do so.Maybe it was for the better, maybe it wasn’t, but after all the scars she had another one seemed usual.
Michelle felt different like something was healing and breaking her into pieces at the same time.So fascinated by the past and so eager to see the future.These feelings made her not only strong and weak at the same time, but better, like a new person was born.
When the rain stopped she realized that she had stayed there for over an hour and just thought.Looking closer outside she saw the rainbow making its way through the dark-grey clouds, a ray of light in the darkness.At that point Michelle was certain that no matter who would stand by her side, she would be strong by herself and no matter who would believe in her, she would believe in herself, because that was important in the end.
People come and go, but you will always be alone in some way and you have to be happy and proud about it.That’s the beauty of being hurt.

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