Failing at creative writing.

And then it spread like a disease, like wild fire. The thought intruded my consciousness, it penetrated the walls that I built to keep you out. There I was again, finding myself lost in the woods, in the middle of the night. I could never articulate my words nor my thoughts in a clear or thoughtful way. Thoughts happened and words spilled out. Or rather, they were tears…gushes of bitterness welled up inside and all rushed out at the same time, overwhelming me, drowning me. It was like a stubborn child being refused his favourite toy.

I would end up writing off days or weeks because I was overwhelmed by sadness, by fear. I felt worthless. I felt lost, ugly and unwanted. And here again the image of you flashed across my chaotic mind. Why do you have to haunt me?

I come back to the woods around me, trying to figure out whether this was real or not. I took a moment, listened to the wind amongst the trees and looked around hoping to find some sort of a clue. Yet there was none. I continue treading the darkness, with no memory of how I got here in the first place. The twigs and fallen leaves broke as I walked over them with my bare feet. I know not how to write, I only know how to feel. But now maybe I don’t know how to do that anymore either. I cannot paint you a picture, only try to piece together the different senses, the orchestration of colours, sound and touch. It was all so vivid a second ago and yet I find them slipping away like sand through my fingers. I desperately try to recall, to remember, but my memory fails me, as it always does. The piece of memory is fading, it’s trickling away.

You saw strength when I felt small. You saw beauty where there was none.

There is nothing to look at here. Go away! The mother shooed away the children as she tried to protect and conceal her deformed child.

There is no order in my writing, no logic, no framework.

I try again, frantically, to remember the feeling, the warmth, your voice, but my attempts were futile and the exercise offered me no solace. It’s like I’m trying to retrieve crucial information from and trying to make sense of a broken tape.

I keep going, deeper into the darkness, into the night. I had no idea where I was going; the only thing I knew was that I had to keep walking.

The lights from the city glistened on the left as I approached an ascending path, leading up to the hill. The trees towered over me, my feet were cold and slightly cut. Although I was confused, I had no idea where I was going, it didn’t feel too bad since I could sense that you were a few steps in front of me.

We continue to walk up the hill and when we got to the top you said “Look, isn’t it beautiful?” A streak of red and white lights occupied my field of vision, breaking the darkness, like the setting sun shimmering over the horizon, parting the sea and the sky. The city looked incredible. I turn around, only to find myself standing alone. You disappeared. I try to look for you but you were nowhere to be found. I ran all over the hill, falling constantly, not knowing where I was going and not able to see. I was lost again.

The adventure through these deceptive woods, these momentary flashbacks continued to replay themselves. My attempts were futile, and the exercise offered me no solace. I could not stop thinking, or feeling.

You saw strength when I felt small. You saw beauty where there was none.

There is nothing to look at here.

There is no order in my writing, no logic, no framework.

And here again the image of you flashed across my chaotic mind. It’s like I’m trying to retrieve crucial information from and trying to make sense of a broken tape.

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