"You Are My Company"

The clock doesn’t strike

midnight,

     —at all.

It just ticks

     and ticks

until the hour

touches

twelve

     and ticks again

some more.

I lie in bed

and I wonder

about what thoughts

go through your

mind

when you cannot sleep,

and midnight has struck

      once or twice

      already.

Do you think

of me

with a dazing fog

of melodious words

that make you

fall in love?

Or do you

think

only of what

I say

and make everything

sound

so

screeching deafening

to

your ears?

I think of you

and what it’d be like

to have you

in my arms,

     —to be in your arms

to have you

hold me.

I love you.

My thoughts

of you

are my company

when I cannot sleep.

I’m quite sad

and restless,

in fact,

because I know

that you cannot

sleep

when you think

of me.

Though it may seem

flattering

to the ears,

given much thought,

it’s quite a depressing

story.

You cannot sleep

over the thoughts

you have of me.

I am your misery,

though I wish I

was your company.

--; December 11th, 2012

This is a story about the sad parts of love that every person has gone through. We go through these different stories but we all learn to feel the same things (kind of). We feel the insecurities that love brings from time to time, and this was meant to show that.

Just A Bit

I stared at the clock. Three hands moved, all attached at the center, yet they seemed to go nowhere. In my eyes, the second hand had continuously been moving back and forth. Every time I looked up to check the time, I could only find myself wondering if time had really frozen. My eyes hurt, and I couldn’t take it anymore. The silence, the emptiness: these were things I wished I’d never have to face.
Her face kept appearing in my head, as though my mind would refuse to let her leave.  When did my own mind come to haunt me so much? When I placed my head down to close my eyes, the first thing I would see in the darkness was her face. She was smiling, but I knew that smile was a lie. She was crying right now. My mind wanted to comfort me, but no such result occurred. Guilt and anguish overflowed in my heart and I wanted to run to her to tell her how sorry I was. The thing is though, I can’t. I can’t face her, or her pained eyes. She was hurt, and I had hurt her. More than anything, I wish I could take the pain away, but if I had wanted to do that, I never should’ve brought the pain to her in the first place.
I stared at the clock, and for a moment, I felt relief because, at last, the second hand had left the place it had been stuck at for hours. The relief quickly disappeared, however, and the second hand came to freeze this time around. I was left in an infinite loop of wondering why it would not move. Had I been going insane? Is this what guilt does to a person?
Suddenly, there was a knock on my door. I stared at the clock one more time, and it seemed to have finally begun to move normally. The second hand kept going in a circular motion, making the minute hand move after it and the hour hand after that. There was another knock on my door, and I realized it was the knocking that drew me back into reality.
As I opened the door, I saw her face again. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her lips were pale. She looked up at me and gave me a small smile, almost as though to tell me that I was forgiven.
There was a silence between us, and I could have never been happier to see her angelic face. The face with the beautiful brown eyes that seemed to gleam brighter than the sun. The eyes that were always hidden under her cherry blossom scented black hair. She was the definition of heaven in my eyes, with feathers gracing her path every step she took.
"…can I come in?" she asked me, with a quiet voice filled with tension.
I looked around confused for a moment, until I finally noticed that we were still standing at my doorway. Quickly, I moved out of the way and opened the door for her to walk in. As she walked past me, I could help but to find myself searching for her scent. It must have been the oddest thing for me to start longing for, but I had missed her and the warmth of her skin pressed upon mine.
By the time I turned around, she was already seated on the sofa of mine. Her hands were on her lap and she looked around my living room.
"Is anyone else home today?" she asked me, with much nervousness.
It took me a while to find my voice, but I managed to say, “oh, uh…no. No one is home today.”
I suddenly noticed an error in my response, and quickly, I panicked to make up for it. “I-I mean, I’m home but no one else is.”
Her right eyebrow raised and she managed a smile on her face. I made her smile.
"You’re being so silly, Erik," she giggled. The sound of her happiness could only be described as soft music to my ears.
I suppose the way I say all of these things make me seem a little insane, but it’s how I hear them. She was my angel, the one who glowed with light everywhere she went.
"I’m…I’m just a little nervous," I told her. I found myself scratching the back of my head, and taking every chance to avoid her eyes.
A few seconds passed and there was silence again. I was standing a few feet away from her, standing like an idiot, trying my best not to stare at her. Eventually, she was the one who wound up approaching me. Her footsteps were lighter than air, almost making it look as though she were floating. Angels are too precious to touch ground, so I suppose that would make sense.
"Erik…," she began. She was now standing in front of me, well past the limits of personal space, but I did not mind. I was happy that she stood in front of me. Her brown eyes seemed to glow even though there was no source of light in my living room on.
I was silent, like an idiot once more.
"Erik…," she repeated. Her brown eyes stared into mine, and I felt a shudder. I couldn’t help myself as I found my gaze wander from her eyes and down to her lips. Her lips looked soft, and I could smell her at last. Her sweet aroma surrounded me and I was immediately lost in the moment.
"…I wanted to tell you something, Erik…," she continued. Her lips creatively shaped every word spoken, and I wanted to kiss them. I wanted to wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her closer to me, and I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to make her feel breathless, and I wanted her to understand my feelings. But, that was something I could not do. Those were actions that made her cry, and caused her to run out. They scared her, so I could not do that. I couldn’t make her be afraid anymore. I distracted my mind from thinking of her even though she stood in front of me. Her small frame never made my eyes want to turn away, but I had to. I had to focus just on her eyes, and make myself not see the glow.
"…what is it, Silver?" I finally responded.
She looked at me with worried eyes, and bit her lips. I became entranced once more from the sight of her expression. She was absolutely adorable, and it became harder to resist the temptation. But, I had to resist. She did not love me, not yet, and my impulsive feelings made her run, scared.
I felt a stinging pain in my chest as I thought those words. She did not love me. The girl I have loved for so long has found herself unable to reciprocate my feelings, not to the same extent. “Not yet,” she’d always say to me, “but soon.” I’ve been waiting for the day that “soon” would finally arrive. My hope vanished like a breeze of wind, coming in for a moment, giving me the relief and pleasure before disappearing and leaving me longing for it even more.
"—you," she said.
I broke out from my thought and realized I didn’t hear what she had said. When my eyes focused on her face once more, I noticed her pale complexion gaining a little bit of pink. She was blushing, and I did not understand why.
"…what?" I said, automatically intrigued by her expression.
Silver bit her bottom lip once again, and her eyes looked up at me. She opened her mouth for a moment, and I felt the breeze of wind again. Her lips formed shapes and I could not make word of the sounds she made. I didn’t understand why. I didn’t understand how it could have been.
When did this happen?

--; September 6th, 2012
YES. IT'S RECIPROCATED LOVE. YES. IT IS. SEE? I'M NOT ALL THAT CRUEL. I give my characters happy moments...every now and again...
For those who haven't noticed, I really like writing in the perspective of a male character (don't ask why—I don't know).
But yeah...this is real old. Haha.
Also, I have no idea where the title came from...this was originally a story I wrote to replace a journal entry and I used this title to show that I was going back into writing "just a bit". Yup.
But I guess you can also use it to show that she was reciprocating his feelings..."just a bit".
Hahaha. My boyfriend would have a field day with this commentary. He loves the whole saying the title of a story in a story (though this isn't technically the inside of the story).

"The Failings of Love"

I lie in bed
and wonder
if I could become
your guilty pleasure
     your midnight bliss.
Because you have become mine.

I think of us
in the middle
of the night
when I can no longer sleep.
It has become
my comfort zone. 
You are my peace.

But because I cannot be yours,
I suffer.
I offer you
no tranquil thoughts.
I rage and I bicker. 
I leave all parts
of sanity
lying in the dust.

You are my calmness,
but I am your calamity.
We are as different
as day and night,
though we share the same sky
     the same earth.

You stay up and cry over me.
You dream of me in peace.
I stay up and smile over you.
I dream of you in pieces.

You are mine
and I am yours,
but we are not
each other’s.

--; December 11th, 2012
Love isn't perfect.

Beyond What Memories Were

Leaves were steadily falling off the trees as I sat down on a park bench. There were many moments like these: ones where I spent my day worrying over nothing. The leaves gracefully touched the ground, as if they were parachuting down.
My eyes watched as each of the leaves painted a picture of vibrant colors on the ground, leaving the tree that stood in front of my vision bereft of any joy the once green leaves used to provide.
For a moment, and just a moment only, I sat there and thought not a single thing. The moment was slow and sudden, and filled with many visions of beauty. Within a few moments afterward, I found myself longing for something else. Actually, it wasn’t something, rather, it was someone.
Her smiles lit up the sky like fireworks on the Fourth of July. She was the essence of joy, and I could only find myself gaping at her beauty every time I saw her. How do feelings carry on for this long and yet, seem to reach nowhere?
Is it normal to feel insignificant in comparison to her? To me, it’s always been as though her needs were worldly, and mine were miniscule. Perhaps I augment her value too much so, but someone as lovely as her surely deserves it.
I watched as the leaves continued to fall, leaving the tree eventually bare. I wondered about the possibilities of what would happen if the leaves had feelings, and the tree felt pain. Did the leaves put on a courageous, yet dour front in attempt to make the tree stray away from its stolid personality? If that was to be true, I wonder if the leaves ever loved the tree that gave them a place to call home.
I think that the tree is an opulent being for it was never fully alone. Winters came along and left snow to hang on its branches. When spring arrived, there were many little buds coming to settle in their new homes. As summer came, they were fully grown. As fall began to arrive, the leaves were getting ready to leave, creating the start of a cyclic journey with the tree.
There is another reason why I believe the tree to be rich. It was rich from memories. Sometimes, there will be people who engrave their memories onto the tree. When that happens, the tree becomes symbolic and already different from the rest.
I picked myself off the bench I sat on and walked towards the tree. I knew of who I was missing. I had missed her very much, but her imperfections were no longer something I could touch.
I am no longer able to see her crooked, but warm smile. I am no longer able to feel the coldness of her breath as she spoke soft whispers to my ear. Her unkempt hair is no longer something I could poke fun at anymore.
As my fingers traced over the tree, I found myself praying for something to turn up. It had been years since the memory was engraved, but I was praying for its existence. There was an augment in my happiness when I found my fingers warily tracing over an outline I felt familiar with. As I took a closer look, I found myself struggling to see the imprint left on the tree, but it still existed. The memory was still alive and an intimation of a melancholic nostalgia hit me.

❤❣❤

“This tree is ours,” she said to me.
“No. This tree belongs to the park,” I corrected.
“No! This tree is ours, Brent,” she reiterated.
“…okay, okay. This can be “our” tree,” I said with an amused smile.
Perhaps she had seen the look on my face, but for whatever reason it truly was, she suddenly held an expression of embarrassment.
“…what?” she asked in a shy mannerism. Her lips closed slowly to form a pouting expression on her face. In that moment, I had fallen in love with her. It was the way her confidence could be projected so openly, and yet be taken apart in moments of embarrassment so quickly. Her pinked cheeks made her seem irresistibly cute in my perspective.
I found myself reaching for her face, ready to pull her closer to me, so that I could kiss her. It was just a moment between us, and for that moment, she did nothing but look into my eyes as though she were a puppy-dog.
A bigger smile cracked on my face, and I shook my head as I told her, “nothing. Nothing at all.”
“I declare this tree to be ours, and with this tree, we will have fortitude when facing heavy burdens,” she told me. Her hand caressed the bark of the tree; almost as though she thought it were a human being in pain and in need of adoration.
“Isn’t that a little odd?” I asked her. My arms wrapped around her waist as my chin found a resting spot on her shoulder. She held onto my hands, and even though her back faced me and her eyes were directed on the tree, I swore I felt as though I was the only thought going through her mind.
“Maybe, but this tree will live a lot longer than us. It will be our memory,” she said to me.
“Would you like to make it official, then?” I asked her, enabling her.
“…what do you mean?” she asked, obviously confused.
“Close your eyes,” I told her with a wicked smile.
She gave me a doubtful look and asked, “are you going to run away?”
I rolled my eyes at her and said, “of course not. Where would I run off to?”
A soft melody filled the silent air as she laughed and closed her eyes.
Tentatively, I used a somewhat sharpened rock on the dirt ground in order to carve our initials in a heart on the tree bark. It took several outlines in order to make it look etched in, but I managed before she got tired of closing her eyes in silence.
“Brent. Can I open them now?” she complained like a little child.
I laughed and told her, “yes. You may open them now.”
I saw a twinkle in her eyes as she placed them on the heart now engraved onto the tree bark. Her fingers ran over it, slowly, and she eventually came to turn towards me.
With the tree as our witness, we shared our first kiss underneath its blooming flowers. A breeze flew by at that moment, and a sweet fragrance surrounded the both of us. When our lips eventually parted, we were greeted by the sight of petals dancing around us in the air.

❤❣❤

    My eyes caught a glimpse of other engravings on the same tree, and I felt my guise come apart. My calm and cool demeanor suddenly faded, and I was angry. These were memories that shouldn’t be made on our tree. Their existences adulterated the significance of our memory. I couldn’t stand that thought. Why did those other engravings exist? Why did they look so new and permanent, while ours looked as though it were being washed away in rain? It wasn’t fair. It was nowhere near fair.
    Why did it feel as though the tree was gibing at my heart and my memories? It was painful.
    I was near tears as I stood in front of the tree, hating its existence, until I recognized a scent. It was a sweet fragrance surrounding me, but I did not know why it had existed. The leaves were falling, and there were no flowers in bloom, yet I could smell it clearly.
    A soft melody was played to my ears as I saw a twinkle in the air and felt a cold touch on my lips.
    An echo of sound was made, telling me in the voice that I had longed to hear again, “this is our tree.”

--; September 16th, 2012
I wrote this for an English homework in junior year. I actually really like this story.
The title was based on the initials of the two characters' names. I like to be secretly symbolic like that. It's also to capture the feeling of the last section of the story.
(Spoiler alert: in case you didn't figure it out...yeah. She died. I killed her off. Sorry. Had to do it for the story.)

Salvaged

            There was a time in my life where the sun always shined, but it was dark. It was dark from all the words at loss and all the loss of love. So, my world was blind, and no one understood the meaning of find.
           What was there left to find? Nothing can be seen in darkness because darkness veiled everything. Yet, we tried. We tried with all our might to find light. We were a colony of people who were shunned away by the sun and had to live our lives completely blind.
            One night, a star past by and caused a commotion in the hearts of everyone who witnessed it. Here we stood, a colony of the blinded, gazing at the glorious bright star. We could finally see; our lives no longer stood in darkness because light was inching closer. It was our salvation. This was our salvation.
——♥;
            “Brandon!” a voice of a female called forth.
            My head spun around and I saw a running figure of a goddess. Her hair glowed with a spark and I was left electrified in my steps. She had the eyes of the sun; such bright radiance rendered me blind.
            “I heard you are the seeker,” the beauty said to me. Slow, heavy breaths were drawn from her and it was obvious she had been out of breath.
            “Seeker I am, milady. How may this seeker help such a beaut?” My hand reached out for hers and I gave it a gentle touch with my lips.
            “…uhh,” the beauty began to say. It might’ve been my ego, but I could’ve sworn she was left speechless and in awe.
            As I flashed my best smile, I couldn’t help but look at her necklace. I had seen it before, but I could not remember where.
            “Just where are you staring at?” the gentle voice said as it grew cold and vicious.
           Looking up very quickly, I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Oh, uh, I wasn’t looking at anything. I mean, I was looking at something, but it wasn’t you. I mean, it was you, but it wasn’t you you.” My voice cracked a few times and I suddenly heard her giggle.
            “They never told me that the seeker was quick to embarrass,” she commented. A hand was brought up to her lips and I saw her smile as she giggled. Her brilliant eyes closed as her lips curved and a melodious sound came from her mouth.
            “If it isn’t too rude to ask, may this seeker acquire your name?” I managed to say before I lost my nerve to speak again.
            “I am Isabella Locke. My father owns land just north of this village and I came here with a task for you to complete,” Isabella said to me. Her eyes never strayed away from mine and it had me wondering why.
            “You’re rather cogent, Miss Isabella,” I said to her with my most powerful gaze.
            “Indeed I am, Sir Brandon. Now, will you help me to ascertain this little question I have or will I need to travel elsewhere for another seeker?” Isabella questioned me.
            I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was testing me. There was a hinting somewhere that made me think the real task would not be given to me for a while.
            “Well?” she asked. A little irritation could be heard in her tone. I could tell she was rather spoiled.
            “If you let go of your supercilious attitude, perhaps I will help you with your minute dilemma,” I told her as I began to walk away. I didn’t care for the way she spoke to me, and I soon realized that she looked at me as though I were property.
            “Wait. Hold on,” she began as she ran to stop me. Her face soon stood a mere three inches from mine and I was a little breathless. She really was quite the beauty. “I need your help. Will you help me?”
           Stepping back and removing my hat from my head, I bowed down towards her. “Why, of course milady. What sort of lad would ignore such a damsel in distress?”
            “My task is simple: find my father,” she commanded.
            “Do you understand how this system works? I cannot simply make things seen by my eyes. I need a piece of his property, something valuable,” I told her.
            “Valuable?” she reiterated, a little confused. It took a few minutes, but her hands soon reached behind her neck and the necklace I had been staring at came off. “Will this do? It was given to my mother by my father. It was his treasure and he thought it would keep her protected before she passed away.”
            “An heirloom would most certainly do,” I explained to her as I took the necklace. “However, I need to know the reasons behind why you have it.”
            “My mother bequeathed it to me, for safe keeping under my father’s absence,” she explained. The radiance in her eyes gleamed and an air of sadness filled our atmosphere. It was a difficult topic for her to speak about. I understood that much.
            “I will help you; give me until sunset and I will have a map drawn for you,” I told her.
            “Wait, a map? You won’t be going with me?” she questioned as her eyebrow rose.
            “Of course not. It’s not my job. I am a seeker, not a warrior. If you need men, go look for someone in the taverns. I’m sure you could find some very willing to help out a young beauty,” I explained to her.
            “But you don’t understand, I need you!” she begged as her arms reached out toward me.
            May the stars please be witness to what had happened: she just said that she needed me. Clearing my throat as calmly as I could manage to, I met her gaze and I realized my attainment. “Why must I be affiliated with you more than I have to be?”
            “Because, you’re the only one I can go to for this. You’re the only one my mother trusted. She told me to find you. She said you would know who I was.” Isabella had such desperation in her eyes and voice, it was nearly heartbreaking.
            “…who was your mother?” I asked, finally giving in.
            “Melissa Harte was her name before my father,” she said to me.
            I froze again. Melissa Harte. She was the woman whom my parents esteemed with the highest level of grace. “I will accompany you.”
            The sun rose with her joy as she leapt into the air and hugged me. Her eyes were powerful. They knew how to manipulate those who stared into them. They were an abyss of magic.
——♥;
            “What happened to your father?” I asked as we ventured into the forest.
            “My father left for a meeting with a friend, but it has been weeks since we last heard from him,” she said to me.
            “I see. And your mother, how did she pass away?”
            I heard tracks stop following me as I continued to walk. This silence made me pause and turn around. Isabella had eyes that welled up with tears and that invulnerable guise she put up immediately dispersed. A part of me wanted to grab her and place her in my arms. I wished to tell her that it was okay, but that was not my place, and this was not the time for bonding moments. Our time was finite, and it was quickly running out.
            “My mother…she died of disease…,” Isabella began. She wiped away her tears and spoke again, “my father left looking for a panacea, but according to the doctors, it was already too late.”
            “Oh.”
            “And what of yours?” she asked me as she picked up her pace and began to walk beside me.
            “My father died in war, and my mother was killed by a madman rampaging through our town. We tried for her justice, but the judge said that the crime was venial. We have been looking for her murderer ever since, my brother and I.”
            “…brother? I never heard of a brother,” she said.
            “Because it's not the business of the public’s,” I told her, quickly dismissing the topic.
            “…oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” she quietly apologized.
            I couldn’t help but to chuckle when she apologized. “No. It’s quite alright, really. It should be me apologizing to you for my intrusion of your private matters.”
——♥;
            As the nights passed by, I realized we were nearing the path of where Isabella’s father was. He had not moved from where he was, adding concern to my mind. I did not tell her though, lest it be the case that I was wrong.
            “How much further?” she asked me with a tired voice. Sweat drenched her body, and dirt painted her clothes, yet she still looked so radiant.
            “Only a few stretches more,” I told her, attempting to keep eye contact with the road in front of me and not with her.
            “Is something the matter?” Isabella’s voice of concern enveloped my thoughts.
            “…no. Nothing is the matter.” How could I have not realized it until now? All those subtle signs in the beginning that grew into things that made my heart pound meant one thing: I had fallen for her.
            “You won’t look at me anymore, Brandon,” she mentioned.
            Those words stung my chest and I felt my footsteps stop as hers continued to stride forward. “…why do you say that?”
            “People can tell when you refuse to look them in the eye. We might not all be seekers, but we are not blind.” With a soft voice, Isabella’s words haunted my mind like an echo. She could tell that something was wrong. Who am I to hide it anymore?
            “…the truth is—” I began to say before Isabella stopped in her tracks in horror.
            “Father?!” she cried aloud as she quickly kneeled before the tired old man who face was so bloodied he could not be distinguished from a beast.
            There was the sound of a subtle breaths being drawn from the old man with graying hairlines. It was the sound of life and the sound of relief.
            “He’s alive, Isabella. He’s alive,” I told her as I began to walk towards him. There was a hint of sadness in my chest because it meant the journey was over. I realized things too late.
            My sadness was cut short when I realized something on the neck of her father. It was the same necklace Isabella had given to me, and suddenly a million images ran across my mind. I finally connected all the pieces together. He was the madman who rampaged through my village, leaving my mother dead. My aching heart became full of fury as I finally saw my ticket towards vengeance.
            “…move aside, Isabella…,” I told her as I got ready to draw my sword.
            I wonder if the look in my eyes scared Isabella because when she looked up at me, she looked up in horror.
            “…what are you going to do?” she asked in fear.
            “…he killed my mother,” I told her, “what do you suppose I do for justice?”
            With eyes widening so much, she crawled over towards her father’s body and laid herself on top of the blood and dirt. “No. You cannot.
            “Move aside, girl.” My hand reached for my sword’s handle and I drew my sword from its sheath. “It’s unfortunate that you forced me to come with you. Your father might have still had a chance at being alive had you gotten someone from the taverns.”
            “…you will not harm my father. What justice you must obtain, please gain it through me,” I heard her say as she slowly raised her head to look at me.
            This was where I was left completely struck. My heart tore itself apart in seconds when I saw the look on her face, her fearing face. I didn’t see the pain or the tears that should’ve been so obvious to my eyes. How had I grown so blind even though I claimed to have the eyes of a god? It took a moment, but I withdrew my sword and tossed her back the necklace I used to guide us to the madman. “If I come across him once more, his life will end with my sword.”
——♥;
            There was a time where the sun would always shine and people managed to see past the glare. We were no longer blind, yet we became unable to do much with our sight. This sense was completely new to us so we did not know what to do with it. Confusion struck through and people went mad when day became too bright. The glare was something we could no longer ignore, and all we could do was stare at the bright sun that never seemed to set. It drove many towards the path of insanity, and few came back with their minds intact. It was the punishment left for us, for not understanding why we had to value the darkness.

--; November 4th, 2012
I wrote this for some reason...a few things in this story pay respect to The Legend of the Seeker (AKA, The Sword of Truth series).
Anyways...yup. It was supposed to be apart of a two-part series, but I never got to making the part two.
I attempted to use age-old words and stuff (but to be honest, I pretty much failed because I have no real idea what certain words mean and stuff).