A Cocoon of Lonely, Rainy Thoughts

‘I feel like shit.’
I wonder how many people have thought that, or mumbled it under their breath, or even had the guts to just say it.
It’s funny how well that sums up how I feel and how I am right now. Well, the way I have felt all day.

I want I punch things. I want to cry, but my eyes are just dry. I want to be alone and read poems I don’t really understand. And I want that to be ok. To not have to worry about other people anymore.

However much I sound like a self centred brat who has listened to too many as songs and watched the rain for too long, I find it easy to convince myself that if I were to be cocooned in my own bubble it wouldn’t make much of a difference to others. It’s really easy to say that the amount of help I give is probably outweighed by the problems I cause. In some ways I know that’s not true. Still, it’s how I feel right now. The kind of pure melancholy that swallows you in loneliness so much that it’s sort of, well, beautiful.

I also know that I am wallowing. But, hey, we’re all entitled to our periods of wallowing, right?

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The Transition

It’s like you’re walking through this forest,
And then all of a sudden the ground seems to disappear;
You fall down into this new forest-
Except there are so many trees…

You can’t move.
You can’t see a thing.
And all you can do is feel your way through,
Hoping that the path you choose is right.

Tendrils and Tears

Delicate as petals, curling,

Up and around towards the sun,

Tendrils sweep through the air,

Carried by the gusty winds…

 

She closes her eyes slowly,

In the fading light of dusk;

Remembering the way he’d catch

Each piece of unruly hair

 

When her eyes open up again,

And her ears feel cold and numb,

Her hair is flat against her cheek-

Stuck down by her warm tears.

‘Ladies of Leisure’-not me

If money were out of the equation, would you still work? If yes, why, and how much? If not, what would you do with your free time?

I have a definite answer to this question, and it is yes! Firstly, I don’t plan on working just for the money (although it would be nice to be comfortable financially). Also, I wouldn’t be able to sit around all day without a purpose. Free time is great, but that’s mainly because it’s time you take out of your schedule just for you. If I had free time ALL the time I would feel selfish and probably bored. I look at a lot of stay at home parents, especially with few children and sometimes wonder what they do all day. I understand why some parents would want time of during the first years of their child’s life, but when they get to a certain age and they are at school all day, surely it gets repetitive and boring? 

I would probably work part time if money wasn’t a problem, so that I would have more free time to do the things I have always wanted to do, but have never had the time to do. Like skydiving, sewing and reading all the books that I never get round to reading. At the same time, I feel I would need to work a reasonable amount of hours per week to feel a sense of achievement. 

So, to sum up my answer, no, I could not be a lady of leisure. But, I could give up more working time to give myself some extra free time. 

A Little Haven

You’ve been given the ability to build a magical tunnel that will quickly and secretly connect your home with the location of your choice — anywhere on Earth. Where’s the other end of your tunnel?

I don’t think I can answer this question well at age sixteen. Maybe in two or three years, I could give a good answer. But I haven’t been to all of the places I want to go, seen the sights I’ve dreamed of seeing. 

So, right now I would have to say the end of the tunnel is on a private beach somewhere like the Maldives. then, if I ever get stressed or upset, I can escape there. It would be own little haven. Well, maybe I could have some turtles or something to keep me company. 

Honest Feelings

I recently watched a video by one of my favourite youtubers, which was called ‘About Robin Williams’. When I clicked on the thumbnail I was expecting a tribute to Robin Williams. But instead, I watched a moving insight into Jack’s honest feelings. I think one of the reasons why I was s moved was because of the sincerity of his words and the way he didn’t edit out the parts where he cried. Also, I understood how he felt. Basically, despite all the great things going on in his life, a close friend moving away couldn’t help but make him sad. And all this happened on the day that Robin Williams died. 

I can relate to this because there have been a lot of good things happening to me recently, like getting a result I was proud of and going on some great trips where I met new friends and experienced crazy new things. Yet, I still feel sad because some of the not-so-good things that have happened seem to block out my positive thoughts. It’s really overwhelming and sometimes I can’t deal with it.

I was glad to see Jack’s video as it made me feel less alone in these feelings. 

Here’s the link to his video: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lxYgRXBPAeY&list=UUc-2O0_cKAWGQEuHqHHh3GA

Goodbye To The Boy I Knew

You always used to put up your hand-

Even if you stuttered on a few words…

You had your own opinions on bands,

Remember when you were kind of a nerd?

When hair didn’t take half an hour to do,

Don’t you ever miss the old, naive you?

 

 

But then adolescence caught up to you,

Girlfriends and kissing and sex came along, 

Can you believe how fast all that time flew?

And now the sweet boy I once knew has gone.

I wonder if you ever have thoughts like these,

Or is it a place you hope no one sees?

 

 

Jenna

Jenna said yes, not because she had always been rather too sensible. Defying her, in some ways, weak character was hardly an option. The truth was that she said yes to escape. 

The three letters fell from her slightly parted lips like a badly kept secret. Thought her throat was dry, the word was loud as it was released into the expanse of the train station. She was aware of the strangers watching her speak to this mysterious man. But the worry in her eyes was needless as a train hurtled past, trampling over all voices at the platform. Her short, dark hair flew into a frenzy from the rush of the passing carriage. ‘Frenzy’, in fact, was the perfect description of Jenna. She was a frenzy from her thin shaking fingers, to the scattered thoughts tearing through her mind. Her wide eyes hid the maturity of an eighteen year old with the terror of a child. Even at that point, just before she would step on to the train, on a journey that would change her life, she had no understanding that this was just the beginning of the fear that would soon encapsulate her. 

 

 

Salinger and Sonnets

Take a look at your bookcase. If you had enough free time, which book would be the first one you’d like to reread? Why?

I’d probably pick The Catcher In The Rye. Last year I studied it in my English lessons. And while I enjoy English, the stress of deadlines and word counts for essays didn’t let me appreciate this novel as much as I might have done. I did enjoy it, especially as I came to understand some of the metaphors that I had overlooked. 

So, I think I would enjoy rereading Catcher In The Rye without having to look for superlatives or answers to set questions. I would have the freedom to ask my own questions. 

While I was studying this novel, part of the coursework was writing a creative piece about one (or both) of the two novels we had studied. Sorry Mark Twain, but I chose The Catcher in the Rye over The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I have to say that the sonnet I wrote was probably the best piece of creative writing I have ever done. Ergo, if I read it again, maybe Salinger would inspire me to write like I had then. 

Roses and Rain

You return home to discover a huge flower bouquet waiting for you, no card attached. Who is it from — and why did they send it to you?

Rain soaked fingers scramble for the key,

Trembling with cold, fingers numb and blue.

Come on, one two three-

Finally the door swings, we’re through!

But as I step inside my feet collide

With an object on the floor;

And thanks to that single stride,

I, too, am on the floor.

Pulling it from beneath my leg,

I see the roses I squashed quite well.

This is not some cruel joke, I beg-

I’ve already had a day of Hell.

With all remaining energy I stand,

And find the aggrieved bouquet a home;

Wondering who is the admirer at hand.

And through my memory I comb…

This matter delicate as the petals,

Is a war between delight and distress,

With only one way for it to be settled-

For the admirer to confess.

Back at the door where it began,

I stare out at the busy street

And there’s the man,

Amidst the rush of the city our eyes meet:

Then I am outside, the rain hits me.

But I don’t mind because he’s there,

The guy who always serves me coffee-

Why was I never aware?