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Girl in the meadows

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Time Has Taught Me Things

In 2010, I started writing my own teen novel. I worked on it for a long time and then eventually felt like it was terrible and it would never get published, or even finished. I read so many better things around me and knew so many writers that were exceedingly better than I was.

Last week, I opened it back up again. I began rewriting it, adding detail and changing certain situations. I was fully immersed in it. It brought me joy again.


In sixth grade I got my first guitar. I loved it. I wrote terrible songs with my friends and then we would stand by our tree and sing them during school breaks. It never led anywhere but eventually my songs got better and I could do it on my own.

Recently I've had a really hard time playing my guitar and writing songs. Even looking at my guitar across the room makes me feel guilty for not touching it. I have a hard time because I don't want anyone to hear me. There is a much better guitar player in the house and I think sometimes I'm just too intimidated to write my songs that consist of four chords.

So I haven't.


Sometimes I think we allow others success to scare us out of our own.

I spent almost all of college feeling like I couldn't be a writer because it was somebody else's thing. They were a terrific writer and I sucked, or at least felt like I did.

But when we put the pressure of others success on ourselves, it scares us out of trying.

At least it scared me out of trying.

Instead of asking my friend to read my writing and help me become better, I just stopped writing.

I became too prideful. If I couldn't be great at it on my own then I wasn't going to do it at all.

I'm scared of criticism, even if it's constructive, especially if it's constructive.

But here I am again, writing. I'm writing because I love it. Because I love creating things.

If I love something, I'm not going to stop because someone else does it better. There's always going to be someone that does something better.

The only difference is that they aren't me. They don't want to say what I want to say.

They don't want to sing how I want to sing, or play guitar.

No one can do what I do, because no one is me, but me.

I can keep doing what I love and continue to get better.

Or I can stop everything because I think that I'm not good enough, based on someone else's years of practice.

These are the things that time has taught me.

tags: constructive, enough, fiction, guitar, hope, joy, love, music, not good enough, novel, time, writing
categories: Uncategorized
Monday 09.21.15
Posted by Guest User
 

My Attempt at "Fiction"

"I don't know what to do now." She said, having decided it was time she finally spoke up. It was in this moment where the realization that she didn't have any real dreams came to surface. She looked him in the eyes and she saw it, the sadness had now taken over him.

There was no reason for him to be sad, she was just voicing her thoughts, or at least what she had been feeling for the past five months. She didn't know what to do. The eye contact seemed to last longer than forever until he finally looked down and out the window. "What?" She asked him, trying to make sense of why he hadn't spoken yet.

"I can't." He said quickly, without shifting. She looked down at her folded hands in her lap shaking, contemplating how to go on further.

"I just, I wanted to be honest." She mumbled. "I don't think I could ever forget about it, if I didn't tell you first." She tried so hard to force down the tears, and the nerves that were attempting to get her whole body, instead of just her hands. She had never let it get this far. Falling in love with someone always seemed too scary for her so she never took the leap. She hadn't let herself get to this point, not for a long time. The last time almost broke her completely.

"I get it." He said, invading her thoughts, she looked up and he was looking into her eyes again. It's like those eyes could stop anything, her heart at least. "I just don't know what I should say."

This is what she was waiting for wasn't it? The great rejection? Why did she think that it would be any different than the last time? Why on earth did she let herself get to the point of love without shutting it down? She was being careless. She was careless. How could she let this happen? She felt her heart clench and it wasn't letting go. Is this what heart break feels like? You get to the point where you can't hold it in any longer, so you need to tell that person? She thought. But then she finally uttered the words and silence.

As she had sat there after telling him her feelings, she watched his expression. She watched it go from content to extremely confused. She had said it right, right? She kept playing it over and over in her head, until she realized neither of them had said anything for the past two minutes. They had just sat there, in the silence. That's when she decided to speak up. Now knowing that her feelings weren't reciprocated, because otherwise he would have said something. That's when she decided to lay everything out on the table. This table that once had all their friends gathered around it, now just them because she had asked him to stay.

You see, when she got here, she figured that she would just meet someone, and then go with them wherever they went. She would be one to follow. She didn't mind it, because well, she didn't have any big dreams. She'll just latch on to someone else's and go with them. She didn't mind, she actually preferred it. But now...?

As she sat there, her hands still in her lap, shaking. She realized that she had put all her hopes into something completely one-sided. She had hoped for him too hard. She put her heart into something that was dangerous. It was probably the biggest risk she had ever taken, loving someone whether or not they loved her back. Is this how God feels every time he shows us love? She thought. Sitting there, hoping and praying that they will receive it and decide to love you back? Because here she was, hoping and praying, but breaking at the seams.

He sat there, completely silent. As she tried to steady her breathing, her heart. She looked down again and she began to lose it. She lost the tears that she had been pushing down, and her whole body began to shake. She needed to leave. She looked up one last time to indicate that she was done, her heart was on her sleeve for too long and it needed to go back inside and start beating again. She knew that she would remember this. She would remember this moment as a defining moment in her life. The time where she took the leap, she took the risk of putting her heart out there and it was rejected; sent back to it's perfectly safe cave in her chest, wounded...

She looked into his eyes, and saw it again, the confusion. She pushed herself back in her chair to get up and he stopped her by placing his hand on hers.

"Stop" he said. Looking as though he was still unsure of what he was saying. It seemed as though he was acting out of character, and right as she thought it he noticed. He removed his hand from hers and leaned back in his chair, still holding eye contact with her.

As the tears seemed to stop, leaving her with mascara stains on her face, she slowly sat back into the chair unsure of what to expect.

He looked at her, still confused but a little less so than before. "Stay" he mumbled, his voice shaking, he looked down.

"What?" She said, not having heard him over her obnoxiously loud heart beat.

"I said stay..." Finally certain that the words that were leaving his mouth were true, he looked up and into her eyes. "I want you to stay."

tags: bad writer, fiction, he said she said, heart on my sleeve, life, Lord, love, risks, scary
categories: Uncategorized
Monday 03.03.14
Posted by Guest User