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I’m not an artist.

I paint pictures on my body
in black, blue and red.
Permanent reminders
of memories long gone and dead.

This paintbrush in my hand
is all that I really need
And tonight I cannot help
but give in, concede.

I wish my story was
a happy one to tell,
but why should I kid myself?
I’ll always be rotting in hell.


Book Review: Seraphina (#1) by Rachel Hartman

Study in Ink

New cover. Image from Random House US. New cover. Image from Random House US.


Seraphina

Lena’s rating: 4 of 5 stars
Published: July 2012
Copy: Bought


“Four decades of peace have done little to ease the mistrust between humans and dragons in the kingdom of Goredd. Folding themselves into human shape, dragons attend court as ambassadors, and lend their rational, mathematical minds to universities as scholars and teachers. As the treaty’s anniversary draws near, however, tensions are high.

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(?)

(Bringing old things back. I cannot believe that after over a year it’s still just as relevant.)

Conflating Inglenook

I’m disappearing, yet I can hardly say what this means for me, for you, for anyone. These hands typing my words are shaking and trembling, making it almost impossible to sew some kind of red thread into this text. Then again, perhaps it’s not necessary.

Let these words run around in confusion, the same way I seem to be drowning in it.

Who am I? What am I? And my God, please tell me, where am I?

I feel so lost and tired and sad and empty and so, so confused. These tears running down my cheeks are burning like wounds filled with acid.

How am I supposed to get out of here?

This isn’t me wanting to die to end the pain and suffering. This is me feeling the unbearable need to die.

I can hear the bridge and water calling my name, can feel my legs itching…

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My therapist has given up on me.

Again.

She was the 5th one already. I don’t think I can cope with this anymore.


I know I said I’d use this blog as a way to post stories and creative texts written by me, but I guess I should have added the word ‘mainly’ somewhere in between, because right now I don’t feel like writing anything of true importance at all.

I have so many thoughts and numbers running through my mind that it almost feels impossible. Especially with all of this pressure coming from university and me trying so hard (perhaps too much) to get on with everything. Sometimes (most of the time, always) it seems like being trapped in this kind of life is painfully straining. It’s tearing me apart, yet I seem to be unable to do anything about it. Anyway..to come back to topic.

I will hopefully manage to write something next week, so feel free to look “forward” to it. I’m not sure yet, what I will write about, but that shouldn’t bother anyone anyway.


Update

I have already planned a few short stories, and I will start developing their plots more and more, after I’ve worked /started working on other matters such as my term papers for university. I’m also interested in using those stories for different kinds of media, such as audio”books”/collections of audio files of those stories. Which, admittedly is a plan for the remote future, but still. I think it’s a nice idea. Because it would show (at least me) that some kind of process or development happened in this relationship I have between my writing and me now and the one I’ll hopefully have in the future.