"Free"

"Free"

There were times I felt

Empty.

Times when my eyes were

Sightless,

And my ears heard only
Silence;

Times when I could feel my world 

Shatter,

falling to the ground like broken

Glass.

There were times my eyes held 

Oceans,

But I could shed no

Tears.

I felt completely

Alone,

Lost in an endless 

Dark.

I had 

Nobody;

I was

Nothing.

I came up with a 

Plan.

All I wanted was

Love:

To be 

Missed,

To be

Wanted.

I didn't think anyone would really

Care,

I didn't think it would

Matter.

In the end I 

Couldn't;

I knew there must be more to life than

misery.

I finally asked for

help:

Help to be in

control,

Help to learn how to be

 me.

And I 

learned.

I learned to 

smile,

I learned to 

laugh,

I learned to 

love,

I learned to 

live.

I was 

scared.

I still 

am,

But I won't 

cower.

I won't be a 

slave,

Not to 

anything,

Because I'm finally 

free.

Another Experimental Writing Thingy

So, this is another first paragraph of a story I planned out long ago.  But never got around to.  But finally got around to!  Yay Fira!  (Those of you who are smiling and nodding right now know just how hard it is for me to write)  Anyway, moving on.  This is another one of those things I'm writing where I started it and it kind of just took a shape of its own.  Apparently, Fira really enjoys me writing about her in a roundabout way.  And, rant over.  I'm just really happy with this one.



Nngg...everything hurts...so cold...where...what happened...am I dead...?

Green eyes look out from under heavy curtains of eyelids; unfocused, unseeing.  A shiver forces the eyes closed again, unable to open.

Footsteps-two sets-approach.

"She's running a slight fever, but that's likely the aftermath of the hypothermia.  I hope she wakes up soon, now that she's out of the coma."  The voice is friendly, familiar, and belongs to a man.

"Thanks.  I'll let you know if she does."  A second man's voice this time: tired, weary, hopeful.  The heart monitor in the room shows a quickening in heart rate.

The first man leaves, his feet falling in a regular, rhythmic pace.

A chair groans in protest when a body sinks into it.  One hand, large and calloused, envelops a soft, petite one.

"I'd love to see your eyes, hon'.  Hear your voice.  See you smile."  A sigh carries through silent air.  "I miss you."

Crystal slides down delicate curves and onto a pillow.  The darkened, heavy curtains lift slightly, glistening green meeting liquid brown.  Shapely red curves thin out and turn up at the corners.  A smile.  The smile fades, lips parting as green eyes well up with hot, salty liquid.

"I missed you too."  A whisper, no more than a breath that glides to waiting ears.

Experiment in a Different Writing Style

I finally got around to writing a story I developed over six months ago and discovered that, by the end of the first paragraph, my writing style had changed and become something better.  While tragic, I think this paragraph is beautiful in the structure and in the diction.  (Maybe I'm biased, but Erena is my baby, so I think I have a right to be.)  It's only angsty because this is the buildup to a really awesome reunion and happy stuff.  If you don't like super angsty stuff, please don't read this post (or the poem I titled 'Friendships Never Last') and move on to the one with Fira in it.

Thanks!

Erena lay down on the empty bed.  Empty, as it had been for weeks.  It hurt so badly some nights that Erena could almost physically feel it. Feel the loss of a lover, a best friend, a part of her soul.  Days like today almost killed her.  Days when a comment that is meant to be a source of comfort comes from blank lips and forgetful eyes.  Nights when such comments bring on vivid memories-turned-nightmares.  Watching him die over and over in the same way; the same blank eyes, he same sudden, painful silence in a cacophany of noise.  Waking up to a rush of noise in a silent room and feeling warm sheets on an empty bed.

Yes, nights like this send her rushing to the porcelain throne, body rejecting his loss.  Nights of facing a terrible reality, a private hell that can't be fixed with a wave of a magic wand.  Days of feeling like a zombie, shuffling around gutted and empty.  Some would say that that alone was the worst part.  Erena knew better; because he was alive.

'Friendships Never Last'

'Friendships Never Last'

by Jenilyn Shiles

Someone once told me that

My friends wouldn't always be there.

I laughed; "Of course they will!"

Will they?

Eleven years old, I moved 

Somewhere close

Eight blocks away isn't very far,

Just one LDS ward away.

Yet, they said 'goodbye'

Never calling, never visiting.

Twelve came and went;

So did She, moving to Mexico.

"We'll see each other again,"

She said.

Five years and I'm still waiting...

Thirteen and we graduated

From the eighth grade.

"Visit this summer!"

You invited.

Yet, when we did, you were absent,

Talking about other friends.

It seemed you graduated from me too;

We never spoke again.

Fourteen, We're freshmen;

braving new fronts together.

"I'm going to UCAS!"

You exclaimed, smiling.

I smiled on the outside,

crying on the inside.

You see, I didn't want things to 

Change.

Three years now and we hardly ever speak.

Sophomore year,

Still two friends with me

One graduated;

We don't talk anymore.

The other never really cared,

Leaving me for a fantasy.

A Junior now,

At the end of the year.

I've met more people,

Still shocked from being alone.

One I met last year,

We have a TV show.

One I meet every day,

Eating lunch where I used to.

One I'm getting close to, 

Still unsure how she feels.

And one I used to know,

Making amends and accepting change.

I don't know if it will last,

It's hard for me to say;

For after all,

As someone said,

'Friendships never last.'