I left my comfort zone back in November, so today I’m doing something that I have never done before(with the exception of a couple of short stories I was recently reminded about), and post some of my creative writing.
The book is titled Go On Living with an additional tagline of “whether by choice or by chance- it’s your only option.” This segment is told from the voice of the main character, and is fairly early on in the book. Hopefully you like it, I wrote it as a word sprint to a song (let me know if you can figure out which one!), and was really pleased with how well it said what I was intending given the constraints.
When a heart breaks, it can break into a million little pieces. I never understood what others meant by heartbreak until today. But now I can fully and totally see how imperfectly a heart can break. I didn’t even ever think about a heart breaking, because I never felt like I had a heart to break period. However, now I can see that a broken heart isn’t just about somebody else breaking your heart, it can also be about you breaking your own heart. So this uneven, jagged, painful, heart break is the most true thing I have ever heard in my entire life. I woke up every morning with an incredibly broken heart. I am not supposed to be here anymore. I’m not supposed to be waking up at all. I should be in another place, another world, that I knew nothing about. But God hadn’t taken me He left me here to suffer and continue on and nothing sucked more.
I never really believed in God. My parents tried to do the Church thing a few times when we were younger, but it never stuck. Maybe that’s why He left me behind, because I never came to him in life. That was a thing, right? I just can’t understand the existence of a higher power, but I do sort of believe in Heaven and Hell, so completely casting out God wasn’t fair. But now, now I’m sure. Because if there was a God, He would have understood why I needed to be out of this world and He would have taken me to Him. But I’m still here, waking up. I wake up in the morning when it was actually time to wake up. I also wake up throughout the night after all of the nightmares. There are so many nightmares now.
Before, I never remembered my dreams. Whenever anybody asked me, I actually said that I’m one of those people that never dreams because I honestly could never remember a single dream that I had. I just assumed that this was part of my problem. I couldn’t remember my dreams because it wasn’t meant for me to do so. Other people got happiness from remembering their dreams; they would share their dreams in the hallway before school and they would laugh together about them. They would compare weird stories and they would compare outrageous happenings. But not me, I just stood there and pretended that I understood.
They’ll probably make me talk about my nightmares if I’m not careful. I try not to say much, but these people are really good, in fact they’re great at getting things out of us. It won’t be long before everybody knows about the nightmares and then I’ll have to share them over and over again. They say that it’s part of the healing process, but I think it’s part of the torture process. If I was healing, I would actually be happy when I woke up, but all I feel is anger. All day every day is just full of anger.
I hope you enjoyed this excerpt! I love hearing feedback, both good and bad (as long as it’s constructive!) Thanks for reading.