Hiatus and New Entry

Hi guys!

Sorry for being on a little hiatus. I've been really busy with school, and haven't had much motivation to write. However, I had a huge moment of inspiration tonight, and decided to write something. I hope you guys enjoy it! :)

"Mouse in a Maze"

Sometimes, I feel like I am just a mouse in a maze. It is a labyrinth of my own physiological creation – something that encapsulates all of my worst fears. Every turn I make faces me with the manifestation of the things that I do not dare search out for as I live my life. I see visions of my past, moments that I do not wish to feel once more – embarrassing moments, moments which make me want to curl up into a little ball and cry, moments that make me feel like there is no good left in the world, no matter how hard I search for it. I feel lost in this maze, as if there is just infinite darkness.

But I know, deep down in my soul, that there is a light at the end of this nightmare. There IS an ending to this misery and trouble, and it is up to me to find it. Not anyone else, but me and me alone. While I may be reminded of times that I didn’t quite measure up to expectations, or have felt that I “let myself down”, I take these things in stride! I know that regardless of my past follies, the future is always bright. I take each corner of this confusing maze with increased optimism, as if I know the way to the finish line. I see my friends, family, and loved ones cheering me on, as if I am competing in a marathon. This marathon, that I have struggled through but am finally becoming comfortable with, is life.

Life is what you make of it. While you may have dark times, there will always be light. The light will always be waiting for you. So go! Go out and get it! Do not care what others think and ignore them if they put you down. Believe in yourself, because you can accomplish wonders. You may feel like you are simply a “mouse in a maze”, but if you truly believe that you can succeed, you will make the maze’s walls lower. They will lower, and the end will become clear to you. You can step over the obstacles that previously blocked your way, and venture towards your goals and dreams with pride and happiness.

So what are you waiting for? Go out and lower those walls! Go out and find the light at the end of the darkness!

The Lily (WIP)

This is something that I've started writing. It's still a work in progress and it's rough, and I don't know how to continue just yet. Any thoughts?

Thanks for reading!

A man is standing at the edge of a pond on a warm summer’s night. The air is crisp, and has the aroma of sweet pine. He lets a small sigh escape from his lips as he notices mother goose and her ducklings gently caressing the surface of the water, as if caught between the boundary of air and liquid. The water ripples from their movement, and washes over the man’s feet, sending a tingle up his spine. As he stands there, his fragile body sways in the gentle wind, no more than a blade of grass in a field stretching for miles on end. The moon calmly reflects on the water.

In the middle of the pond, a white lily has flowered between the cracks of an oddly shaped rock, which briefly disappears from existence as the water crests over its peak. The man standing at the edge ponders for a moment, and shifts his gaze toward an aging canoe which has been tied off hastily a few feet from where he stands. He moves over to examine it, only to let out another sigh of disappointment as he realizes there are many holes in the bottom of the boat, which renders it useless. The man’s facial expression remains unchanged as he takes off his boots and socks. He takes off his shirt and places them all in a neat pile, along with his other personal items: a silver pocket watch, a set of matches, and a golden necklace.

The man carefully steps into the warm, tranquil water. It feels silky and smooth, as though he is resting in his comfortable, familiar bed again, with her. But he is not resting. And he is not with her. Not anymore.

He wades toward the middle of the pond, not pausing to catch a breath. He can feel his heart beginning to pound ever so much faster as he reaches the cracked rock, stopping a distance away to gaze at the sight. He has not been here in seven years, a thought that brings tears to his eyes. Suddenly, his mind is filled with the lush, beautiful memories of which he had almost forgotten. He can feel the warm touch of her hand resting on his cheek. He lets out a choked laugh, tears beginning to rush down his face. Opening his eyes, the feeling of contentment departs altogether. He runs his cold, ragged hand down his cheek, which has become sallow and colorless. He has not been graced with her touch in over seven years. Seven years of pure anguish, pain, and torture.

The man grasps the sides of the cracked rock, and climbs atop it. He sits down on the edge, his legs dangling, treading the warm, silky water below. He looks at the white lily, and reaches out his hand to feel the petals rub against his skin. They are soft and warm, just like her hands. He continues to caress the lily while looking up into the night sky. The blackness of it is filled by innumerable white and yellow stars, sparkling like glitter. A small smile appears on the man’s lips, and he gives a gentle nod. As he looks back down toward the flower, a large gust of wind knocks him sideways, causing him to dislodge a piece of rock from the crack. Where it lay previously was a small piece of paper, folded ever so elegantly. 

"What is Creativity?"

This is a little passage I wrote during a sudden burst of, well, creativity. :)

What is creativity? It is the pure essence of self, the blossoming flower coming out on the first day of spring. It is the words that are hidden on the inside, aching to get out and be shouted over mountains, to an eagerly awaiting world. It is the colorful paint that is dropped onto a blank white canvas; the symphonic melodies that flow through the air from the somber sound of a violin; it is the sweet scent of a warm apple pie on a breezy summers' day, set on a window sill to cool. 

Creativity is how you react to something that is placed in front of you. It is the way that you add your personal touch to the world, your own little footprint that is admired and seen by many, far and wide. Without creativity, this world would be purely black and white.

It is our creativity that drops the colorful paint onto the canvas of the world.

"Unknown/Arcturus"

This is something I wrote in a response to another question on a forum I frequent. The question was "What would you do if, suddenly, every trace of your existence was gone?" or something like that. Basically, if I had no identity or anything. This one is a little bit long. Enjoy!


"I wake up in my bedroom to the sound of shouting. My vision is still blurry, but I can see the outline of two figures at my door. As my eyes clear, I find that it is my parents staring at me with wide eyes and angry faces, yelling and swearing at me. I look around, and realize that everything is different. My bed and desk are gone, the walls stripped of posters and calendars, and painted a different color. I am in a bed, but it is not my bed. For some reason, I slept in the clothes I had worn the day before. I clear my throat, and say "What is going on? Why are you yelling at me?" to my clearly livid parents. "What do you mean? Who the hell are you and why are you in my house!" my dad screams in anger. My mother stands by, anger on her face shielding any trace of recognition of me from my eyes. I glance to her, and back to my dad. I am so confused.

They shout at me to get out of their guest bed that I have apparently occupied for the last night. None of my things are even in my used-to-be bedroom except for my shoes, wallet and phone, so I grab those and am pushed out the front door in less than a minute. Before my father closes the door, he looks me dead in the eyes, with a fierce growling tone in his voice and says, "Look, I don't know who you are and what you're doing here, but I do not want to see you by this house again. Got it?" I nod curtly, and he slams the door so hard the light fixture above me shakes, layers of dust falling and coating my temple. I quickly leave the property and round a corner, in order to get away from them as fast as I can. As soon as I am out of sight, I sit down, and begin to bawl my eyes out. "They just abandoned their own son! Why would this happen?" I say to myself, gasping between sobs.

Since I know that I am now all on my own, I try to compose myself. I have to figure out exactly where to go from here, and if there is anyone I can go to for help. After all, if my parents do not recognize me, how can I assume that everyone else does? I check my pockets, and remember that I grabbed my phone and wallet from the "Guest Bedroom" I was found in. I turn on my phone to find that, luckily, the battery is almost fully charged. I navigate to my contact list, but gasp to find it almost empty. There are only two contacts left: Home, and someone named Max. I ponder trying to call home, but I figure it would be for naught, since my parents are set on getting me arrested and everything. I pull up the page for this Max person, and dial the number.

It rings a few times, and someone picks up.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Max?"

"Yes it is, who is this?"

"This is Mitch... I found your contact information in my phone. I am in a very confusing situation, and I was hoping that someone could help me out, if it's even possible."

"Ahh, I see. Yes, I might be able to help you. First, you must do something for me. Have you checked your wallet?"

"Uh, no... I haven't."

"Ok, please look in it and read the code that is on the white card to me."


At this point, I am extremely confused, but I comply with his request. This is all so crazy, I think to myself. I pull out my wallet, and find everything there except for all of my ID. I still have my debit and credit cards, as well as a white card tucked in the top slot in the first section. I pull out the card, and scan its' contents. It has a blue symbol which I do not recognize. It has a shield with two swords crossed over it, with a laurel wreath surrounding the bottom portion. At the bottom, it has the words "Sigma ID", with the word "ARCTURUS" written under it. I read the code-word to Max.

"Good, thank you Arcturus. Meet me at Smith's Coffee, down at the corner of Suster and Beech at 8:00. Don't be late."

"Why are you calling me Arcturus? Why can't my parents recognize me! What is going on?"

"I will explain everything to you. It's complicated, and I'm not behind any of this. I'm merely part of the chain. I have to go now, don't worry. I realize that everything is still confusing for you, and that many things about your life are different. Find yourself somewhere to live if you can, settle in and make sure you can support yourself. I'll talk to you at Smith's, 8 o'clock."

The line cuts with a click.  "

My Happy Place

I wrote this a few days ago on a whim of inspiration. I was watching some Alan Watts videos (lectures basically with music), and it put me in a happy little mood. Afterwards, I was surfing a forum I frequent, and someone asked the question "What is your happy place?". This was my answer. Enjoy!


"Whenever I feel down, I close my eyes, and imagine myself in a forest. 

It is midday, and the sun's rays are peeking through the branches of the towering trees that stand above me. The sky is dotted with puffed clouds, giving minute periods of shade. It is not very hot, however; there is a serene, constant breeze that sways the branches ever so elegantly. It sends chills down my spine, and a smile emerges through my stone-cold expression. A bird is chirping in the distance; a squirrel is poking through a small pile of leaves to find food; a mother doe and her fawn are grazing among tall grass in a small field. Through the trees, there is a lake, standing out like an oasis in an unforgiving desert. The water gives off the familiar scent of fresh rain on a cloudy day. An old picnic table sits near the edge, calling out my name. There is a metal easel that faces towards the lake, which shows signs of regular use and age. I am not the only one who has come here, to relax and let my thoughts drift away into the abyss. 

When I open my eyes, I feel at ease, like I can face anything that the world throws at me."