Thoughts on my creative writing piece ?
A Word For Everything
You squint as the faint ray of sunlight beam into your eyes through the corners of the curtains that you spent hours choosing at IKEA. You smile and think to yourself, it's finally Sunday. No having to snooze your alarm till you're 30 minutes late. No having to change your skirt again because you wore it inside out the first time putting it on. No burnt toast for breakfast as you rush out the door before morning traffic hits. You turn to your side and you see what you believe is a dream. Him. He has got a plain white t-shirt on with classic p-j shorts, resting his head on the pillow his grandma gave him. The cross necklace he wore created a shadow on his collar bones as his sun-kissed skin illuminates under the light. You knew every inch of his face. From the hint of dark circles under his eyes that formed because he convinced you to stay up late with him watching Chucky (Child's play) so he could be amused by your horrified reactions down to the faint small scar on the corner of his left eyebrow that formed because he fell off a bike when he was seven. But despite all these flaws, you loved every single part of him. His dark hair twisted in knots from tossing and turning the night before, framed his sharp angled face as his eyes begin to flutter open.
He stare at you. How long have you been watching me, he ask. He gave you that smile that always reach his eyes, the smile that you love. Not long, you reply. Before you realise it, a white blur filled with soft feathers and cotton attacked your face and you hear the melody of his laughter ringing in your ears. I love waking up everyday to your face, you squeal as you struggle to find a pillow to get your revenge. Who wouldn't?, he tease. You squeeze his cheeks and he smile and quickly peck you on the lips. He laid back down and open his arms like a house opening it's front door, to invite you to a place that's safe and warm. His arms are wrapped around your body and that sense of security starts to sink in. This is forever, you think to yourself. You close your eyes and listen to the sound of his heart beating. Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump. It was a rhythm that you didn't want to miss a beat too and you begin to wonder if your heart synchronise at the same beat too. Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump... You laugh. What is it?, he whisper in your ear. I'm happy, you breathe. So am I, he mutter. You both laid in silence. Not an awkward silence but the kind of silence where you knew that you two were both comfortable to the point that no words were needed to be spoken.
You close your eyes and think back to the time where he first held you. You dive into frozen waves and the past comes back to life. His arms were wrapped around you. His hands nestled on your shoulders. You watched from the corners of your eyes as how his body moved as he breathed. You were mesmerised by the way he looked so taken in by the film. Then you touched him, just rested your head on his shoulders. He jumped a little, turned and smiled at you then returned to the film. You felt warm,a blissful feeling as your fingers tripped their way over his skin. He held you tighter and you shuffled closer toward him. He was yours. You were his.That was the first time you started to think bout forever. That's all you needed. Just him.
I love you, you say as you twist to fit the mould that he was in.You nest your head under his chin. You were safe. He plant kisses along your cheeks, as if he was connecting your freckles with his lips. I love you, he say. Forever, you sigh as you wrap your fingers between his fingers. Forever, he confirm.
That was the last happy memory that you had of him. The image you painted in your head of a cottage house with white picket fences and the dog running around the garden yelping with excitement as you and him play fetch together. The mailman would stop by in the afternoon and you would run to fetch the mail. The mailman would greet you and you would return the greeting. He would ask how your day is, and you begin to tell the mailman about him and he would smile at you saying how lucky you are. What you hoped to become reality one day is now fantasy. Because slowly you begin to notice that something has changed in him. Toward you. He's distant, cold. You don't know what you've done and you don't know how to fix it. You begin to desperately reach out to him but he was inside his own world. A world without you. And you realise that you didn't affect him the same way you did before. His eyes doesn't light up when he sees you anymore, his smile doesn't reach up to his eyes anymore, he's just not the same person anymore.
The inevitable end that you've been dreading happened. The end where you were screaming for help but no one could hear you. The end that you've tried desperately to prevent by pleading with him to stay. The end that you knew was going to happen no matter what. He left. He left without a goodbye. He left you with the future you've planned forsaken, he left you with empty promises, he left you without a reason why. You said nothing for a time, just ran your fingertips along the edge of the human shaped emptiness that has been left inside you. A circle. A simple shape yet it hold many significant meanings. It symbolises no beginning, no ending. Eternity. That was your love to him. There wasn't a day where you didn't wear your promise to him on your finger. He was your meraki, something you poured your soul, creativity and love into, where you put all you had in him to make sure he never felt empty like you do right now.
''What is love?'' you asked yourself one day, and you didn't know the answer and you got sad. You struggled to find the meaning inside yourself, until you finally understood what love was, what you and him were and what love is. Well, then what is love? You still search to find a rightful explanation to justify it's meaning, but not because you didn't know the answer. You couldn't state what your love was, because it's too much. It's everything and it's nothing. It's being patient when he was broken and all you could do was hold him and say 'I love you' hoping it's enough, it's consideration when you appreciate all the little things he did for you, it's devotion where you would drop everything you're doing to see if he's okay, it's courage when no matter what anyone said, your feelings didn't falter... and the list goes on, but you could've summed it up in one simple word. Him. That's what your love was, and that's what you've felt.
It's dark. The small rays of light that flicker through the curtains that you regret choosing at IKEA dance along the edges of the walls. The alarm ring loudly in your ears and you ceaselessly reach underneath your pillow to hit the 'OK' button. It is only 10:00.Another sleepless night have passed you. You think to yourself, its another Sunday. Another day of lying around where you do not want to get out of bed, you do not want to get dressed for another day and you do not want to make breakfast. You just lie there listening to the constant piddle paddle piddle paddle of the rain drops hitting your windows. The raindrops remind yourself of someone who fell so drastically and fast, hitting the pavement head first.That someone was you. You turn to your side and you see the faint outline of the pillow that you placed next to you. This is just another Sunday morning.
A Word For Everything
You squint as the faint ray of sunlight beam into your eyes through the corners of the curtains that you spent hours choosing at IKEA. You smile and think to yourself, it's finally Sunday. No having to snooze your alarm till you're 30 minutes late. No having to change your skirt again because you wore it inside out the first time putting it on. No burnt toast for breakfast as you rush out the door before morning traffic hits. You turn to your side and you see what you believe is a dream. Him. He has got a plain white t-shirt on with classic p-j shorts, resting his head on the pillow his grandma gave him. The cross necklace he wore created a shadow on his collar bones as his sun-kissed skin illuminates under the light. You knew every inch of his face. From the hint of dark circles under his eyes that formed because he convinced you to stay up late with him watching Chucky (Child's play) so he could be amused by your horrified reactions down to the faint small scar on the corner of his left eyebrow that formed because he fell off a bike when he was seven. But despite all these flaws, you loved every single part of him. His dark hair twisted in knots from tossing and turning the night before, framed his sharp angled face as his eyes begin to flutter open.
He stare at you. How long have you been watching me, he ask. He gave you that smile that always reach his eyes, the smile that you love. Not long, you reply. Before you realise it, a white blur filled with soft feathers and cotton attacked your face and you hear the melody of his laughter ringing in your ears. I love waking up everyday to your face, you squeal as you struggle to find a pillow to get your revenge. Who wouldn't?, he tease. You squeeze his cheeks and he smile and quickly peck you on the lips. He laid back down and open his arms like a house opening it's front door, to invite you to a place that's safe and warm. His arms are wrapped around your body and that sense of security starts to sink in. This is forever, you think to yourself. You close your eyes and listen to the sound of his heart beating. Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump. It was a rhythm that you didn't want to miss a beat too and you begin to wonder if your heart synchronise at the same beat too. Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump... You laugh. What is it?, he whisper in your ear. I'm happy, you breathe. So am I, he mutter. You both laid in silence. Not an awkward silence but the kind of silence where you knew that you two were both comfortable to the point that no words were needed to be spoken.
You close your eyes and think back to the time where he first held you. You dive into frozen waves and the past comes back to life. His arms were wrapped around you. His hands nestled on your shoulders. You watched from the corners of your eyes as how his body moved as he breathed. You were mesmerised by the way he looked so taken in by the film. Then you touched him, just rested your head on his shoulders. He jumped a little, turned and smiled at you then returned to the film. You felt warm,a blissful feeling as your fingers tripped their way over his skin. He held you tighter and you shuffled closer toward him. He was yours. You were his.That was the first time you started to think bout forever. That's all you needed. Just him.
I love you, you say as you twist to fit the mould that he was in.You nest your head under his chin. You were safe. He plant kisses along your cheeks, as if he was connecting your freckles with his lips. I love you, he say. Forever, you sigh as you wrap your fingers between his fingers. Forever, he confirm.
That was the last happy memory that you had of him. The image you painted in your head of a cottage house with white picket fences and the dog running around the garden yelping with excitement as you and him play fetch together. The mailman would stop by in the afternoon and you would run to fetch the mail. The mailman would greet you and you would return the greeting. He would ask how your day is, and you begin to tell the mailman about him and he would smile at you saying how lucky you are. What you hoped to become reality one day is now fantasy. Because slowly you begin to notice that something has changed in him. Toward you. He's distant, cold. You don't know what you've done and you don't know how to fix it. You begin to desperately reach out to him but he was inside his own world. A world without you. And you realise that you didn't affect him the same way you did before. His eyes doesn't light up when he sees you anymore, his smile doesn't reach up to his eyes anymore, he's just not the same person anymore.
The inevitable end that you've been dreading happened. The end where you were screaming for help but no one could hear you. The end that you've tried desperately to prevent by pleading with him to stay. The end that you knew was going to happen no matter what. He left. He left without a goodbye. He left you with the future you've planned forsaken, he left you with empty promises, he left you without a reason why. You said nothing for a time, just ran your fingertips along the edge of the human shaped emptiness that has been left inside you. A circle. A simple shape yet it hold many significant meanings. It symbolises no beginning, no ending. Eternity. That was your love to him. There wasn't a day where you didn't wear your promise to him on your finger. He was your meraki, something you poured your soul, creativity and love into, where you put all you had in him to make sure he never felt empty like you do right now.
''What is love?'' you asked yourself one day, and you didn't know the answer and you got sad. You struggled to find the meaning inside yourself, until you finally understood what love was, what you and him were and what love is. Well, then what is love? You still search to find a rightful explanation to justify it's meaning, but not because you didn't know the answer. You couldn't state what your love was, because it's too much. It's everything and it's nothing. It's being patient when he was broken and all you could do was hold him and say 'I love you' hoping it's enough, it's consideration when you appreciate all the little things he did for you, it's devotion where you would drop everything you're doing to see if he's okay, it's courage when no matter what anyone said, your feelings didn't falter... and the list goes on, but you could've summed it up in one simple word. Him. That's what your love was, and that's what you've felt.
It's dark. The small rays of light that flicker through the curtains that you regret choosing at IKEA dance along the edges of the walls. The alarm ring loudly in your ears and you ceaselessly reach underneath your pillow to hit the 'OK' button. It is only 10:00.Another sleepless night have passed you. You think to yourself, its another Sunday. Another day of lying around where you do not want to get out of bed, you do not want to get dressed for another day and you do not want to make breakfast. You just lie there listening to the constant piddle paddle piddle paddle of the rain drops hitting your windows. The raindrops remind yourself of someone who fell so drastically and fast, hitting the pavement head first.That someone was you. You turn to your side and you see the faint outline of the pillow that you placed next to you. This is just another Sunday morning.