year's end

Dec. 27th, 2015 09:46 pm
pinkparade: girl in a white dress (4)
[personal profile] pinkparade

 

The year is closing, and so I begin to run over all of the little details that shaped it. The first thing that comes to mind is meeting Christopher, my boyfriend. As someone who's known for being quite shy, making such fast friends with him really came as a shock. What was even more shocking was that he asked me to be his girlfriend only after three months of knowing me - and even then, he really didn't know me. Nearly ten months later, and here we are. Two people who probably shouldn't be in love, in love anyway. Two people who honestly don't know what they're going to do with their lives, already planning for a future together that's simply too far out of reach to even see (even with my glasses). It's silly, but I really do think it's going to happen. All of the things we've planned for each other. The only thing that worries me is we might be planning too much for each other, and not enough for ourselves. I haven't mentioned it to Chris, and I'm not sure if I ever will.


2015 isn't necessarily on my list of greatest years, but I'd like to think it's up there. As far as writing goes, this very well may be my most inactive year. I haven't updated my online novel in over five months, and I haven't come close to finishing any other projects that I've pursued. Writing has come to a lull, and for some reason, it's much harder to pick up now than it's ever been before. I keep telling myself that if I just keep at it, it'll begin to come naturally. But I don't think the problem is my ability to write. I write fine. I think it's just that I'm unmotivated. Things that interested me before don't really seem to have the same luster. I've picked up a few new things, of course, but things like writing and reading and school just seem like hindrances. Nevertheless, I am persistent. I continue to write even on days when it seems least appealing; at least I try to. I've been working on a short thriller novel, which is outside of my usual genre. It includes ghosts and murder and all of that good stuff.


The trees choke me. Their trunks are thin and skinny, but the branches coil around my neck with determined strength and block the crisp air from ever fully meeting my lungs. I’m gasping quietly, turning myself away from the others. I look to the murderous trees. All of their leaves are lying in heaps under my feet, but I’m the one that’s naked. Behind me is the lake, as murky as the air. I keep my eyes off of it.
Lou’s car finally pulls up, and before it’s set into park, Penelope jumps out and walks over. She falls into my lap, slinging an arm over my shoulder. She kisses my cheek and addresses the others quickly before whispering in my ear. “I’m so glad you came. Everyone else was worried you were on your way to killing yourself. I knew that wasn’t the case.” She cracks open a tall bottle and takes a sip. I don’t bother looking at the label.
Lou pulls Penelope off my lap and under his arm, his hand resting on her chest. I look toward the trees again, feeling slightly less choked than before. I can hear Mickey clearing his throat next to the already-blazing fire. The sun is falling faster, now. The light is nearly gone. I can almost see the pink haze beyond the trees. “So, guys,” Mickey says, and the others fall into the camping chairs around me. Penelope and Lou share a chair. Penelope sucks on Lou’s neck, and I try not to look. Lorelai sits near them, unfazed. “This is the first time in almost a year that Anna’s come back to the mountain. Do you guys remember that?”
Everyone nods their head in some way or another. Penelope has ceased her sucking and kissing. Lorelai takes a rather large gulp from an unmarked bottle.


So, 2015. Not a great year in terms of writing. Here's to 2016 being a little bit more inspired.

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Zoƫ. 18. Just trying to figure things out.
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