I am not an organized writer. My thoughts are either in a constant wave or they are small specks of rain. This affects my writing in a fairly large way.
Some days I believe that I can become an accomplished novelist with complicated plots and intriguing characters, and then some days I can barely put in the correct number of syllables in a haiku.
So, in order to combat the way my mind works, I decided to start writing "Excerpts From A Book I'll Never Write."
With these excerpts, there are no rhyme or reason on how they are written or how they are ordered. Instead, these are pieces of dialogue or scenes that I created in my head that I could never organize well enough into the pages of an actual novel.
Now that you know what you're getting into, here's "Excerpts From A Book I'll Never Write."
#45
"This world moves and moves and moves. It will crumble under your feet and it will lift you up until your heart feels like it's beating in the same rhythm as the wind. This world, no matter how chaotic, will take you by your hands and twirl you around until your eyes adjust to the new view. This world will mold you and make you grow into someone that you might not recognize.
It's horrifying, but isn't that the beauty of it all?"
#233
"This is going to hurt, you know?"
"What?" He asked me, looking up from his coffee. The same tired look painted on his face.
"Letting go of you. It's going to hurt."
He looked back into his mug and shrugged. Silence filled the room and suddenly I realized that I had my answer. He didn't care if I left.
He never wanted me to stay.
#105
She said to me, "Sweetie, you can't fix people."
Of course I never listened to her. My shield was big enough for the both of us. My cape could wrap you up and warm you when nights could become too much. My strength could lift you and I could have taken us so far off of the ground that our problems would seem so minuscule to the vast universe below us.
But darling, my cape tore when the winds became too strong. My muscles began to ache because suddenly your weight felt more and more like boulders. My shield grew holes after being hit by one too many craters.
I could never rescue you.
#317
"Even though you've proved to me time and time again that you only see me as a speck of dust, I still look at you like you have galaxies within your eyes."
#75
"I've always heard that love is a decision. That no matter what, you choose to stay. You choose to stay with what hurts you."
"But maybe it's not choosing to stay. Sometimes the decision has to be about loving yourself. Sometimes leaving is the only decision to make."
#20
He used to talk like he could coax the stars from the sky. His hand felt open like the dark sky above us, each line in his palm like a constellation. I told him that he walked like poetry. That's when I knew.
#98
Silence was always an atomic bomb in my house.
Silence meant fighting. It meant my mother was biting her tongue with words that could hurt everyone stuck in her path.
Words like, "I'm leaving", "I don't love you", "You are not the man I fell in love with" echoed through her mind until the words eventually fell into action.
The only words my father ever held in were, "What can I do to make you stay?"
