I am reviving my attempts to write in wattpad, because let's face it, there's no other way to improve one's writing than to get it out there and let critics comment on it. I'm starting with a flash fiction collection entitled Reversal. If you have the chance to read it, I hope you do--and wish you the enjoyment of reading my work!
Click here to read my stories!
Tuesday, 27 January 2015
Thursday, 15 January 2015
It will be some time before you stumble across this letter. Maybe you won’t ever mind to check this blog and chance upon it. But I still hope you will.
What we have isn’t perfect. Neither of us is perfect. Maybe you think we were brought together by fate—but nothing can be farther from the truth. We only had chances. We only had coincidences. We only had luck. It has been years since we met. But even if we shared thousands of lifetimes together, that says nothing about the days which are yet to come.
So let me ask this of you: do not burden the present with promises. Time is precious. Do not let thoughts of a future time steal it away from you. Do not ask of me what I cannot give you, since I am not certain that I have it myself.
In pop culture, there’s this term called “Manic Pixie Dream Girl”. I am not entirely certain as to the definition, but it’s something like a girl—an eccentric character—whose purpose in the story is to change the outlook of the cynical mess of the male protagonist and to disappear from his life once her job is done.
I am no such girl. I am not a “character” even—in my perspective these personalities are possessed of distinct defining qualities. Watching them, and with a bit of thinking, it won’t be a tough job trying to imagine how their lives will play out. And I am changeable as wind. I sometimes wish I could be a Manic Pixie Dream Girl—should I waltz out of your life, at least I’d have made it better. As I am, there is no such guarantee. It could end beautifully. It could wound us. Or it could end without really ending.
So, don’t romanticize me. At most times I am but a string of words that appear before you on your computer screen. Do not imagine that the girl on the other end of the line is a damsel in distress, or a perfect student, or an unwavering believer. I am not a character. I am a set of them. I am me, and I am not yet me. Take it in what sense thou wilt.
Yeah, everybody’s got to learn somehow. We live in a world of facts. Don’t leave me out. Don’t banish me to the world of sweet unrealities.
Sin cere (Without wax), me.