To Rachel

Hey Rachel.

I'm sorry that I haven't replied earlier, but I haven't been using this e-mail as much lately, and I haven't checked it in a while.

This may be badly timed, as exams are still going on for me, and in Toronto as well I think.

But that doesn't really matter.

Before I say anything else, I want to say that I honestly meant to keep in touch. But life got hard for me and a lot of things changed for me - I've changed a lot. Things have only really started to settle down in my life in the past two weeks if I'm being honest. And through everything, I just thought that I had changed so much, that you and everyone else I knew at Winona and at Rawlinson wouldn't like this different version of me.

As for the Young Voices, they have a conference every year, and I went in October. Its awesome and you should really go. I didn't even know that they had published my thing until you told me. I called my piece a thing because it was really a random thing I wrote after watching a movie. I entered another piece I thought they would pick, but they picked that one instead apparently.

But I get what you mean about writing to get things out. One of the many things I've changed now is what I write. I write poems, short stories, and songs. I'm starting a band. I don't know if you're still writing, I'm really hoping you are. You were good at it. I haven't seen anything since I left Winona, but you're probably as good, if not better.

If you ever want to get in touch, I don't know if you ever would, e-mail me back. Or post on the blog.

Eden

If You're Reading This, My Old Friend

Hello. It has been awhile since I (and you) have written on this long and somewhat naive (in my opinion, if it offends you, I apologize) blog that is now years old. I miss you. Somewhat. Or so it seems if I am indeed writing this or at least some part in my subconscious acknowledges that. It seems that the most part of me is still unforgiving because both of us has broken the oath of keeping in contact (or maybe because you lied). Anyways, I am writing this to you because it seems appropriate since we were friends because of writing and now I am creating a closure (maybe not for you but for me) through writing. Recently I have made a habit of outputting some things that should not be kept inside through writing which is most likely another main reason I am writing this. I mainly wish to tell you congratulations on achieving the dream ahead of me. I have read your paragraph in the Young Voices Magazine two years back and I do have to admit that I liked it.

Wishing you the best of luck,
Your Old Friend

There Is No Forgiveness For Those Who Are Already Dead

I had once loved my sister, for she was the only one who seemed to understand the pain, the only one to know what it was like to be alone, to be afraid, to lose someone. But she betrayed me just the same as those before her, leaving me alone, going to a realm that I could never bring myself to follow. She was the only one I allowed within my walls, the only one that I could share everything with, the only one who was on my side when the world seemed to side with the enemy, but I was simply foolish. I was stupid for thinking that nothing could take her away from me, that nothing in this world could claim her as an ally but me. And I paid for being stupid, I paid the price. Before when the others had left me as my sister did, it didn't hurt so much, because she was there to soothe my anger with her kindness, ease my pain with her voice, forget those torturing memories by filling my mind with peace she gave me. But now, I had no one. Her betrayal was so painful that it was almost endearing, being surrounded by so much sorrow and grief. Almost. I remember the way she lay there in my arms, and I just kneeled there completely helpless, watched as time stole away her youth, as plague and famine made her weak and vulnerable. I remember how at night, I would pray to the gods that my sister foolishly believed in, praying for them to take back their terrible and disastrous gifts of age and sickness. I was desperate for a miracle, but none showed up on out doorstep. If the gods truly existed, then they showed no mercy on my sweet dear sibling. I remember how I heard her last words as each syllable rang through my memory, how she took her last breath in my arms, and how she exhaled onto my arm, then closed her eyes to rest and slumber for eternity. She had looked so frail, so delicate, like a porcelain doll, or expensive china. But that was simply a memory, a sorrowful memory that I would kill to be forgotten. Pain won't come to memories that are forgotten. my sister had once said. Only if we have lost all of out memories, can we ever truly be completely and utterly happy. Happiness. I wish I had never felt the joy of happiness. If I never felt it, then I wouldn't be able to miss it. I mean you can't miss what you never had. But too bad, I had felt it, and I would never be able to be the same. She made me love her with simple gestures of affection, and I had accepted her because she made me happy. I did love her, but after she taught me happiness and trust, she left. It was the greatest betrayal that I had ever encountered. And I will never forgive her for what she did. Never. Because now I was alone. Because of her.  

A lifeless existence

Everywhere I go,
Darkness follows
A stalker stalking,
In the form of shadows

On every corner,
Death is there,
A kidnapper waiting,
To take from the world

Always inside me,
Fear takes hold,
A monster eating,
Until my heart stops beating

Drake Chronicles Contest

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Waking to Fly

I felt wrecked.

I lay in bed, the covers strewn around my body. I was cold but unbearably hot. My mouth was dry, my eyes ressistant against opening them. I ached and I was tired. I didn't want to move but I had a need to fly.

I could barely rememeber anything. I had some vague memories of my door bending under the force of someone. I could barely remember someone yelling at me to get out. But I remained in my closed world.

The door was locked and the window thrown open. Cool breezes played on the back of my neck. I groaned. I sat up. My eyes finally opened. Then squinted in the light. It was a cloudless day, the sky a bright blue. Trees swayed, and birds flew between their branches. I watched them.

They were so simple in their existance. I couldn't help but admire and envy their ablility to fly away from all their troubles. I sat entranced for a while before pulling the covers off me and getting out of bed.

I stretched and crouched down. My muscles were relieved to move, but they were still sore. I got up and went to the window.

The wind blew in face, and I only thought for a moment before hurling myself out the window.

Hopeless (Rhyme)

A glimpse of the future is all I need,
To give up hope so easily
Everywhere people lay dead
A beautiful sea almost red

I glance at the present
How long will be spent
Until it all disappears
Leaving all but fears

I see no greatness rising
No everlasting happiness happening
Why do we live to die?
Why do we even bother to try?