Love. A joy and a terror. Why does a person submit themselves voluntarily to such pain? Is love worth the heartache and pain of rejection? No. Love is a fickle thing, full of expectations and high standards. Anyone who has loved and lost will agree, even if never aloud. Many will say that it is better to have loved and lost, then never loved at all. Those people obviously have never had their heart ripped out, torn to itty bitty pieces and stomped upon by the object of their affections. Time and time again I have loved with all my heart. And time and time again, it has been shat upon. I swore to myself that I would never love again. And yet, I find myself foolishly falling in love again.
My friends, my lifeblood, are all that keep me anchored to this life. My family, my home, has long been lost to me due to the whims of love. That is what convinced me that love is an evil thing. And yet, to live is to be evil, probably why we love in the first place. True happiness cannot be found in love and marriage, hell, it canít even be found in the arms of a lover. Happiness is a myth, a terrible lie told to us by our forefathers, who even now, laugh at us from beyond. There is no happiness, there is no love. But there is hope, sorrow and joy. They are fleeting, but worth the effort whenever you feel them.
My life has been nothing but heartache and pain, donít I deserve more from whatever cruel force compels the universe to hate me? Apparently not. But this woman, this devilish woman, seems determined to make me see otherwise. Perhaps Iíll indulge her, for a little while at least. What more harm could come of letting her see what she wants to see? I never knew how much I would come to regret that decision in the days to come.
Hatred. A burning flame, a well of passion. To hate is to feel alive. There is no time where mortality is felt more than at the time when oneís hatred is at its peak. A man can thrive under hatred, live longer and harder than one without it, but it slowly eats away at their psyche like a poison infecting the mind. Hatred is known by many names; revenge, justice, retribution and lust. A man can be wronged by another, and none would deny him his revenge. A man can seek to bring a man to justice, and the world would cheer him on. A man can seek to feel lust for another, and let it blind him to others, and seek retribution from those that take it from him.
I have felt hatred, greed and even lust. All of those emotions make me feel truly alive, to continue on another day. Many women have crossed my bed, but none have stayed. Many men as well, although they have to pay. But there is one woman, who played with me as I have played with others. Many would call that divine retribution, I do not. That she-devil will pay for what she has done to me. But harm her, no. I wonít lay a hand on her, I will not need to.
She will beg me to have her, to hold her and to please me before the day is through. She will be mine; body, mind and soul. Will she come willingly? Depends on what you call willingly. She wonít come to me, not unless I bring her to that view. But to that view she will come. I will leave her with no other option. No one takes that which is mine, and lives to tell about it.
All which exists in this world, belongs to me. All that is mine, shall belong to no other. Nobody steels from Greed!
I sat there in the park, waiting on a bench for my date. A novel lay abandoned next to me, having grown bored of reading it. She was late, but that was no surprise, she was always late.
I pulled my phone out from my pocket and glanced at the time. She was later than usual today. Normally sheís only a little bit late, not fashionably late. But this is unusually late, so where could she be? Sheís always been a little absent-minded, thatís why I believe her when she says that she loses track of time.
It makes sense, in a way. Her apartment is a fair distance away from where we always meet up, so how much sheís late correlates with how much time it would take her to get here on foot. But if she lost track of time, shouldnít she be out of breath by running over here? Yet every time sheís late, she is perfectly composed and never out of breath, almost like she walked over here. But that makes no sense, unless she is in just that good of shape.
Iíve thought about driving over to her apartment to pick her up for each date, hell, I even suggested it when we first started going out. But she said that she would be fine, and that I donít need to bother. I wasnít too worried about that, if she wanted to be independent Iíd let her, simple as that. So after the first couple times of her being late, I tried calling her a little while beforehand so that she remembers to leave on time.
However, she never answers her phone and is never here on time, so maybe just this once I could go pick her up. So I pick up my novel and head on out of the park to my car. Starting it up, I start heading on my way over there.
Iím attentive to her, I muse as I drive. I take care of her, get her what she wants, hell, I donít even ask all that much of her. Just a hug when we see each other, perhaps a kiss if she feels up to it. Yet it never seems to satisfy her, so just what am I doing wrong? I give her the space she wants. Iím undemanding, flexible and willing to change for her. We see each other practically every day while at class in the local college.
Maybe she wants more from me, am I not giving enough of myself to her? I wonder what she thinks of me, sheís never outright said that she loves me, cares for me yes, but not love. Should I do something to make her reveal what she thinks of me? Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, but what? Hold myself for ransom Ė no, that has a major possibility of going horribly wrong real quick. Accuse her of cheating on me Ė a possibility, but what if she actually is? I donít think I could deal with that.
Oh! I know what Iíll do now. Iíll pretend to break up with her, that always works. Yeah, Iíll show up on her door and tell her that I donít think this relationship is going anywhere and that I want to break up with her. If she loves me, then she would be devastated, maybe even beg me to stay with her. If she doesnít, then most likely sheíd just agree with me and weíd part ways.
But of course she cares about me, what was I thinking about? I do everything a boyfriend should do for their girl. Iím a gentleman, courteous and all that. Thereís no way she doesnít. So Iíll just let her beg me not to leave her for a bit, making it seem like sheís thawing me out, then agree to stay with her. Itís foolproof! Thereís no way this could back-fire on me.
Nodding to myself, I park the car and head up the steps to her apartment door. I take a deep breath to center myself, and knock on the door.
Today was the day. The love of my life, my star of hope, today is the day I will propose to you. Five long years we have been together, like the moon and the stars in the sky we have always been close. Today is a day for celebration, but the world seemed to disagree.
Rain fell from the sky in heavy sheets, blinding me from seeing out the window. But I knew my way, my loverís estate has been a long time visitation of mine and I could make my way there utterly blind. I shrugged on my raincoat and placed the ring box, containing the ring with a garnet imbedded into it, in my pocket. I looked over to the mirror by the door and made sure I was looking as best I could.
My shaggy black hair was neatly combed back into a low ponytail, a couple strands of hair loose and lying across my forehead. My dark brown eyes shone in anticipation, giving my naturally pale skin a supernatural glow to it. Finally, I was ready to leave, and leave I did.
I took off at a dead sprint for her estate, hoping to get as little rain on me as I could. I made good time, especially when the weather took a turn for the worse, lightning flashing near constantly in the background, thunder making my ears ring. I pulled a small silver key from my pocket and opened up the back door, wanting to surprise her.
I knew that at this time of day she would be taking a nap in her room, so I made my way there carefully. The house was dark, unnaturally so. The power must have gone out, I mused. As I made my way up the stairs, the storm continued to grow more and more violent. The lightning cast shadows in places there should not have been shadows, the thunder growing to epic proportions, threatening to tear down the walls in their fury.
I finally made it outside of my loverís door, a light flickering under the door, most likely from a candle. Not wanting to wake her, I slowly and carefully pushed the door open, poking my head inside the door.
What I saw rattled me to the core. There she was, in all her natural glory. Her long platinum blonde hair fanned out on the bed. Her skin shined radiantly; sweat glistening down her lean body as she squirmed and gasped.
A loud moan broke me out of those thoughts and made me realize what was going on. On top of her, was another man. He had shoulder length red hair and was the one the moan had come from.
I couldnít believe my eyes. I refused to believe it.
I gazed into my loveís eyes and saw wanton lust in them, a heavy flush of pleasure permeating her cheeks. She was enjoying this, had wanted this. Why? Wasnít I good enough for her? Werenít we happy together?
No, we had been in love. There was no doubt about that. So why? I must be having a nightmare, I decided. Soon, Iíll wake up and realize this was all just a horrible dream.
So why wasnít I waking?
I never noticed my feet taking me from the estate. I never noticed my body crying. Nothing registered to me. My world was shattered.
I fell, and just lied there on the ground, my body shaking from the repressed sobs. The rain stopped long after I passed out, it all becoming too much to bear.
Wow. These are really depressing, but they are beautifully written and offer a new outlook on the world and people around us, a powerful examination of the human psyche and the effects that love and lust can have on it. I was hooked throughout, even despite the especially dark nature of these vignettes. My favorite is "Cynical Love;" the flow and style is fantastic!
However, I am a "bit" of a Grammar Nazi, so a few repeated grammatical errors took a bit away from the impact of the writings for me. I understand, however, that writers' styles differ from each other and may contradict technicalities regarding grammar---my own writing often includes stylistic sentence fragments---so if any of my following tips go against your general writing style, feel free to disregard them!
Why does a person submit themselves voluntarily to such pain?
Only Grammar Nazis constantly use "himself or herself" when referring to singular, nonspecific nouns or pronouns, so I don't expect you to do that. However, there are other ways of correcting instances of third-person, plural pronouns referring to singular nouns. One way you could correct this sentence is:
Why does one submit oneself voluntarily to such pain?
A novel lay abandoned next to me, having grown bored of reading it.
Okay, I obviously know what you are saying. But if you read this sentence literally, it sounds like you are saying that the novel grew bored of reading...itself...? This is an error that we grammar freaks like to call a modifier. Basically, it doesn't seem that the action (modifier) in the second clause is referring to anything logical. Here is a possible correction:
I have abandoned my novel and, having grown bored of it, placed it abandoned next to me.
I wasnít too worried about that, if she wanted to be independent Iíd let her, simple as that.
You, good sir, have made a comma splice, which is quite possibly the most commonly made grammatical error in recent years. And I don't know why, but no matter what the context may be, comma splices annoy the crap out of me. (I should probably get that checked out.) It's a quick fix, though. If you want to fix it.
Yeah, Iíll show up on her door and tell her...
Okay, now I am getting ridiculous; no need to point that out to me! XD Anyway, this is an error in word choice. This sentence, when taken literally, seems to imply that gravity has shifted in such a way that one could actually sit or stand on the surface of a door. You probably meant "doorstep." But this is really picky. Again, it's your writing!
Whether or not you put my nitpicking to use, I can honestly say that the pluses already far outweigh the minuses. Good work!
Now Writing: "Exile" (dystopian fantasy-adventure short story) Now Watching:The X-Files (season 6) & Pokťmon: The Johto Journeys (dub)
I thought I'd post some of my class assignments since I'm in a writing course right now. Naturally, so I don't arouse my teacher to thinking I'm plagiarizing, I'm only going to post them once the final copy is done and graded.
So without further adieu... here is the first one.
Originally Posted by The Love Letter
Dear Beloved Sketchbook,
Before I get too carried away, I feel that I must apologize to you for my neglect. I am deeply regretful that in these past several months I have not utilized you to your fullest. You were once the pride of my life, the one thing that gave me joy above all else; yet now we hardly ever see one another. I feel that I must take the blame for this, as you are always blameless. Let me explain. I spent the last few months devoting my attention to the child who has come into my life, my collection of manga, born from Japanese art. Seeing her grow brought me much pride and joy, to the point that all others fell away from my mind. Yet I cannot bring myself to choose between either of you, to value one over the other is unthinkable! One does not simply choose to love either their love or their child, it is just not done!
Our past is what truly drew us together. All the times throughout high school when we would secretly be together, even under our teachers and parentsí noses. Such a thrill that was to be with one another in such an intimate fashion without any other knowing. I poured myself into you all that I have, and you received it all gladly. I will admit that I was selfish, wanting no other to touch you, to hold you and know you as I have. However I do not and will never regret it. I love with all of my being and you were the willing recipient of that love.
Time has torn us apart now. Where we once were nigh inseparable, now we only meet sparingly. I had moved on with my life to other concerns, and I must admit that I was greatly tempted by the more attractive art computer programs (ACP). How they respond so easily to my touch and forget grievous mistakes more easily. How they let me redo my mistakes with ease, almost to the point that it was as if it never happened. Unfortunately, how would I learn from my mistakes if no record of them exists? ACP is a vile temptress and one made for those who do not wish to worry about their failures and only look to their meager successes in life.
You, you waited patiently for me to realize my error. All this time you waited for me to come back to you with God-given patience. You do not ever let me forget my mistakes; you are always unforgivingly telling me off when I do something wrong. Yet all the same, you are always there for me. I was a fool to leave you for another. You, who wait for me. You, who is always sitting there patiently, never willing to giving up on this fool. You, who is willing to allow me to try new things with you as they strike my fancy. All those techniques and tricks, those styles and methods, of showing you what I am. There is no other I would rather be with. In the end, there is no greater oneóno greater beingóof whom I would rather devote myself to in this life.
However, I now come with a burden that I beg you to accept. My daughter, the one I have raised since she was small. Would you accept both me and my child together? I know I broached the subject to you of children before, long ago. However your answer from then escapes my memory. My child, my manga collection, would you accept her and all that she is?
One day soon, I wish that we could all be together and happy. One day soon, I envision that none shall come between us once again. One day soon, I see us taking the world by storm together, hand in hand as partners. One day soon, we shall be together. Can you accept this vision? Can you accept us?
With deep-felt devotion,
The name in this has been replaced from my true name to my username for privacy's sake.
I believe in helping my friends with any problems they have, no matter how difficult or small. Many people think that helping others is easy, or that if they found someone in need they would jump to the task. The bitter truth is that it is never quite so simple. Every day, people ignore the needs of others if only to sustain the normality of their daily lives. Sure, I can be like that to the people I pass on the street, but if itís someone I know, I do what I can to help them out. For the longest time, I wasnít of much aid to those around me. I was either too small or too inexperienced to know what was wrong and how to fix it.
That changed the day I realized that I could spot things that others didnít know of or notice. It all started with a broken computer. I was maybe five or six years old and my momís computer was having some issues. What exactly those issues were I couldnít tell you anymore, but when the computer repairman came by he was stumped for the longest while. Then I walked by and curiously watched him work for a time before pointing out something that caused him to find exactly what was malfunctioning. That is what told me that even the inexperienced and unlearned can help others.
From that point on I was the little helper everywhere I went. From helping my classmates with their homework when they got stumped, to helping my family move things around. I didnít always know what I was doing right off the bat, but I learned through intensive trial and error until I could reliably help almost anyone who came to me with a question.
Years later, when I reached my teens, I had retreated into my shell and communicated mostly online in forums. There were different problems then. After helping a good friend, who went by the penname of ďBaoĒ, resolve an argument with his girlfriend I became known as the ďLove DoctorĒ. For the next two years, I was swamped with requests to help people catch anotherís eye, fix problems in their relationships, or even something as simple as helping them figure out where to take their date next. I had never been in a relationship before, so how was I supposed to know all this stuff that they assumed I did? Simply put, I watched, listened, and read many ďself-helpĒ books on relationships and people in general.
In recent months, Iíve managed to emerge from my shell and started interacting with the people around me again. The problems I help with now are much more technical and serious in the consequences. Iíve helped solve technical issues with the library systems, set-up new printers, and debugged a critical error in my workplaceís processing. Iíve become known as a ďfix-it manĒ and have had many recommendations to join the IT department, as according to the people I help, I know how to fix things better than they do.
Helping people deal with their problems is something I live for. What gives me the means to continue on the path that I have chosen is the satisfaction I feel in knowing that what Iíve done has helped another. Will I require anyone else to follow in my footsteps? Of course not. Helping others is not something that you can force people to do. If anything, forcing the issue tends to make the problems worse, rather than better. Problems are always around and in need of fixing if you know where to look. It only takes one person to make a difference. I work to be that person.