Sometimes I love my solitude. Well, I love it a lot. I can go days without seeing anyone I know and not bat an eyelid. Some days, I revel in it.
I love the darkness too. I’ve always been a night owl, and comfortable in the dark. One of my favourite things is the moment when you’re about to go to sleep, or maybe just lying in bed trying to sleep, and you turn the lights off. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll find a moment of perfect blackness, perfect darkness, when you can’t tell the difference between your eyes being open or closed. No light, just perfect stillness, darkness.
There’s an analogy I once read, that some people only have so much energy to spend on certain days. Only a few things can replenish that energy, like sleep or being alone with a good book. I feel that way most days. My house, my room, and being by myself are what replenish my energy. And being with my boy. They are my safe havens.
I love my solititude, my perfect darkness, and my space.
But sometimes, I get afraid of the dark.
Sometimes, I’m afraid to be alone.
And being afraid scares me.
I try not generalise or subscribe to stereotypes. Once you’ve subscribed to a certain stereotype it’s very difficult to see the exceptions to that perceived rule, and incredibly difficult for others to challenge your perception of that rule.
Some stereotypes can be harmless, some people do embody a stereotype regardless of whether they are the norm (stereotypes have to come from somewhere, I guess), and sometimes stereotypes are infuriating. Especially to those who do not conform to that stereotype’s characteristics even though they do fit into the category.
I find myself in that last group all the time. It truly is infuriating.
Okay, so I’m going to jump on a bandwagon for a moment.
Actually, I’m going to stay on this bandwagon.
Anyone in Australia – and some overseas – will know about the Sydney Siege that is happening right now and has been happening for nearly 13 hours. A gunman has people held hostage in a cafe in Sydney. Most are assuming he is a Muslim terrorist, at this stage. I won’t comment that part right now, except to say I’m hoping with fibre of my being that everyone makes it out unharmed, and the perpetrator never again sees the light of day.
*update – the siege is over, as of 2am, and while the outcome could have been better, it also could have been much worse. Sure enough, the gunman will never see the sun rise again, but his death comes with the tragic and devastating loss of two hostages as well. My thoughts are with those families, and the people who must now recover from this terrifying incident.
Firstly an apology for being super slack in the last few months. *smacks my own hand*
I’ll be better, promise. :)
This piece is something I wrote for uni. I like it, it got me a decent grade, so I figured what the heck! Inspiration has been lacking lately, but I wanted to keep up posting, so here is another creative piece. There was a whole deal with tropes and themes and genre stereotypes that went with the assignment, but I’ll leave out the boring stuff.
Hope you enjoy!
Telling some who is highly sensitive to harden up and stop taking things personally is like telling someone with anxiety to relax and stop worrying.
Or telling someone with depression that their life isn’t so bad and to cheer up.
Or telling someone who is suicidal that they are selfish and have plenty to live for.
Another piece of creative writing for today – a memoir with just a little embellishment for effect. There is a preface that goes with this piece though; a detail that is crucial to the story.
Four years ago today, a friend of mine passed away. A beautiful, courageous girl who was not yet 18, battled against cancer. She wasn’t one of the lucky ones. I wrote this piece about her a few years ago, and felt there was no better time to publish it to the world.
We all miss you darling girl, each year gets a little easier to bear – but this day is always going to suck.