I Remember The Day – A Poem About Love, Life, and Loss

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.

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A Love Letter To My ‘Teen Years

To my teen years,

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.

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Letters To My Future Selves

Dear 18-year-old me,

You’re only two years away, but if the last two years have taught me anything, it’s that a lot can change in 24 months.

I wonder; are you where I’m hoping to be, when I become you?

Did my plan work? What about it failed?

I’d like to know how many people you’ve met that have really made you think. That have really made you wonder, and change your mind about something.

How many people have you met that have changed your life?

Probably none. Two years isn’t a very long time to have your entire life changed.

Ooh, have you fallen in love yet? I’d like to think so, but then again, it isn’t that important.

Are the people who are your best friends at 16 still even in your life?

If not – why not?

Was it your fault?

If so – apologise.

Have you learned to drive yet?

I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t.

Sternly, me.

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Lies My Best Friends Told Me

I love my friends – and they love me. We’ve always been there for each other. We have to be.

But we all have problems. We all have issues with our lives, things we need help with, reasons we need support.

Depression. Anxiety. OCD. Eating disorders.

Broken homes. Abusive parents. Distant siblings. Unsupportive relations.

Broken self esteem. Hatred of ourselves. Wishes to change ourselves.

Lack of ambition. Lack of motivation. Lack of direction. Lack of anything.

Poor health. Frequent appointments. An endless slew of bad news. More things we cannot do.

Struggling to trust. Struggling to stay calm. Being scared that someone won’t come back.

No money. Nothing ever new. Going a night without hot water. Going a weekend without heating.

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National Wish-You-Were-Writing-More Month

It’s November.

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.

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