SuNsHiNe DaIsY

Aquí estoy, sentada a la orilla de un precipicio, bajo un inmenso árbol... Miro hacia abajo como corren los pajaritos sobre la arena, ¡parecen hormigas picoteando su comida! Las olas resuenan, el ruido es ensordecedor, pero qué tranquilidad se respira aquí. Revienta una ola y vuelan las gaviotas a la orilla. El sol aún está visible, pero al frente mío ya se acerca al horizonte... y como es típico de un atardecer, el viento comienza a soplar más fuerte y los rayos del sol se alejan. Se va perdiendo el calor y mis dedos se congelan. Mi corazón salta confundido y se adelanta a una especulación, pero lo detengo. La marea sube y los surfistas se retiran. Por la playa corren personas con su MP3 en mano y pienso de lo que se están perdiendo al no detenerse a escuchar el hermoso ruido de la naturaleza. Aún falta para que el sol acaricie al mar, pero el frío me comienza a envolver y me recuerda que aún es invierno. Mis uñas oscurecen congeladas; mis dedos se entorpecen, y con ellos mi puño lentamente se va rindiendo... y mi lápiz con esto se detiene.

The door is closed and here I lay

Behind the light in this cold dark room.

A shadow is moving right outside

and my heart skips just a beat.

Tears can't fall, they're frozen inside

Uncomfortably numb at what happens.

Here I lay encircled by death traps

and the shadow outside my door keeps moving

oblivious to the fact that someone behind it

is curled up on the bed,

scared to death of being alive.

People continue their daily routine

Ignoring the door they pass

When all it takes is a knock

To save someone's life...

I force some tears out

But nothing feels real

I forgot how to cry.

And nothing feels real

NOTHING FEELS REAL.

I threw up my heart.

And now I want it back.

You can't just sit down and write, it has to come to you, and that's just frustrating!

It's frustrating that I can't force myself to write hoping my creation will come out even remotely decent.

I. Need. To. Write.

Finish my stories, lead them to a conclusion.

I miss that feeling of bringing my imagination to life.

I need to get back to that.

I'm journaling again, I started a few weeks ago and I've found it to be really therapeutic.

I can't stop now.

I can't stop now.

I can't stop now.

This is my way of taking care of myself.

 

"The pen is the tongue of the mind" -Miguel de Cervantes