Jun 2013
So, I wanna try something. I know this is a poetry website, but I have been writing this story. I stopped for many reasons such as being too busy, not inspired, not sure if it was good enough or not, etc.
So I wanna post just a part of it, just to see if anyone will like it. Just to see if it's worth it to continue it.
It's called The Sweet Pea, Honey Bee Kiss.
I tried not to regret the decisions I had made thus far, so the decision to pack my things and leave San Francisco was my own. I said not a word to anyone—not that anyone cared—and left on a rather depressing Wednesday morning. Leaving was not as hard as I thought it would be, rather, it was easier than well...me. There was an empty feeling in my stomach as I left, a sense of worry and depression lingering, but I refused to let the tears fall. So he didn’t turn out the way I wanted him to. That was fine, I suppose....
But who was I kidding? I thought he was the guy...the perfect guy. I didn’t know he could be so cruel, so detached and so...so much like every other **** there was at high school. Not all guys were bad, I knew that I wouldn’t succumb to blaming every breathing human being with a *****, I just knew now that Tristan Booker was an evil ******* and I was a complete idiot for thinking that he could ever like someone like me. Watching him turn his back away from me—away from the possibilities that could eventually be us—it crushed me. I had never felt so alone in a world filled with people—people who may have experienced the same thing I was going through or at least experienced heartache and heartbreak. I felt so emotionless. I couldn't find it in myself to cry, a cry that I so desperately needed, so desperately wanted. I could go my whole life blaming every guy that was a “Tristan”, I could go on with my life and succumb to the whispers and disappointment that pressed itself against me until one day it wouldn’t matter so much anymore. I could fight back; defend the dignity that was left behind and on life-support. But I did what any rational and distressed human being would do: I ran away. I hid in a tower much like how a Disney princess would, but then I remembered Cinderella was never called a *****.
I know it's long. Please bear with me and like/comment it honestly. Thank you so much!!
So I wanna post just a part of it, just to see if anyone will like it. Just to see if it's worth it to continue it.
It's called The Sweet Pea, Honey Bee Kiss.
I tried not to regret the decisions I had made thus far, so the decision to pack my things and leave San Francisco was my own. I said not a word to anyone—not that anyone cared—and left on a rather depressing Wednesday morning. Leaving was not as hard as I thought it would be, rather, it was easier than well...me. There was an empty feeling in my stomach as I left, a sense of worry and depression lingering, but I refused to let the tears fall. So he didn’t turn out the way I wanted him to. That was fine, I suppose....
But who was I kidding? I thought he was the guy...the perfect guy. I didn’t know he could be so cruel, so detached and so...so much like every other **** there was at high school. Not all guys were bad, I knew that I wouldn’t succumb to blaming every breathing human being with a *****, I just knew now that Tristan Booker was an evil ******* and I was a complete idiot for thinking that he could ever like someone like me. Watching him turn his back away from me—away from the possibilities that could eventually be us—it crushed me. I had never felt so alone in a world filled with people—people who may have experienced the same thing I was going through or at least experienced heartache and heartbreak. I felt so emotionless. I couldn't find it in myself to cry, a cry that I so desperately needed, so desperately wanted. I could go my whole life blaming every guy that was a “Tristan”, I could go on with my life and succumb to the whispers and disappointment that pressed itself against me until one day it wouldn’t matter so much anymore. I could fight back; defend the dignity that was left behind and on life-support. But I did what any rational and distressed human being would do: I ran away. I hid in a tower much like how a Disney princess would, but then I remembered Cinderella was never called a *****.
I know it's long. Please bear with me and like/comment it honestly. Thank you so much!!
