This is a poem I began writing a few months ago, and worked on for a while. It was something I’d look at every day for a while, and change ever so slightly. While I’m incapable of ever being completely happy with anything I write, I am quite happy with this.
It’s entirely a work of fiction, a sort of short story in poem form. I don’t really know what my thoughts were when I started writing it, but now it’s a sort of study of the way love changes throughout life, and the way we grow and learn to love differently. Of course, a large portion of it is are things I haven’t experienced, and so I’m only going by observation, but I like to think this is a relatively realistic, although perhaps overly dramatic, kind of life to be led. Who knows? This is a poem, about love, and the different sorts we come across. I hope you enjoy it, even if it is kinda long.
You are full of emotion. You have been, and you will continue to be, for all the time I have left with you. Emotion of all sorts – good emotion, the positive, happy kind, that fills up your heart with goodness to burst, but also bad emotion – the kind that cuts right through our souls and smiles and leaves marks for years to come, but sometimes just for weeks. There is joy, and excitement, and whimsy, and euphoria, and anger, and sadness, and heartbreak, and loneliness. Because that’s just the way it is, and that’s the way it’s meant to be, because we are people, and this is our youth, and you are our teen years. We love you, and we hate you, and we enjoy you, and we wish that you were over, but ultimately, we’re so grateful for you, and all that you give us.
Yes, it’s taken me a while to realise this, I know, but, nevertheless, the observation remains correct.
And, as writers across the world know, November is NaNoWriMo, in other words, The Month Of Repeatedly Smashing Your Head Against A Wall In Desperation And Anger.
NaNoWriMo, for those that aren’t aware, (please know that I have never been more envious of you than in this moment), stands for National Novel Writing Month. Yes, that’s right, hundreds of thousands of absolute morons like me are attempting to write a novel in a month – that’s 50,000 words, in 30 days. Which means 1667 words per day. And remember, just because a novel must be at least 50,000 words, that doesn’t mean that many are. In fact, most novels nowadays are closer to 100,000 words, and while the objective of the month is technically to write 50,000 words, that is quite simply not enough words to tell a satisfactory story, and many of us (including me) will not settle for less than an entire novel.