MY CREATIVE WRITING (Oh, those nasty teen years!)

Most of the following pieces of creative writing were written during my turbulent adolescent years, the exceptions being the ones written in 1998. As can be seen, most of these are written from an idealistic naive adolescent view. However, I can say that these few pieces of writing helped me grow and move beyond what I was feeling at that moment.

OUR HAPPINESS/GAMES

Our Happiness

You asked me if I would be happy if you came to see me. But I should ask you if you would be happy with me. Often people sacrifice their own happiness to make someone else happy. This I cannot ask you to do for me. I can only hope that you feel the same. That you'd be as happy to see me as I am to see you. But you are elusive to me and hard to track down. And when I ask, you will have forgotten. I was only thinking of being careful, of protecting myself from the hopes you evoke from me. Dare I hope you want to see me? Dare I hope you still want me? "I don't know," I answer. "Maybe," I say. Knowing that I DO know, knowing that the answer is "Yes". That is the answer I want to give you. That is the answer I know you want to hear. But if I answered "Yes", would you follow through? Would you make me happy by seeing me? So, despite giving you what I want, I take away what you want. What you want to hear. If you would just tell me what I want to hear. If you would just do what I want you to do. I will tell you what you want to hear. And I will do what you want to do. To make me happy. To make us happy. Please tell me that you love me too.

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You were once a dream come true,
But now you're just a dream.

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Games

Why do we play these games with each other?
I trusted you in the beginning
But you weren't ready
Lets play "cat & mouse"
But why, why can't we just be
Just be together
The way it was meant to be
And now you ask about my happiness
When I can't trust you so easily anymore
After you stole my heart and broke it
I can't be so trusting and honest yet
I've got to play this game with you until you realize
Realize what we are to each other
I don't want to play this game
I'm waiting for you to stop the game
Then I'll stop, I trust you, I love you
Stop this game.
Give me a sign that it's over and Ill tell you everything I cannot tell now.
These games are tearing us apart
They'll ruin us if we're not careful
Stop playing games with my heart
And I'll stop playing with yours.

UNREAD POEM

In my dresser is a secret envelope.
It's filled with my hopes and dreams of you.
One of these pages is a poem for you,
Amongst a collection of song lyrics,
Songs that remind me of you.
I wrote this poem for you hoping someday I would let you see it.
Let you see all the pain and anguish that I suffer for you.
All the hopes and dreams that I have of you.
I still look at this poem every so often, completely amazed,
Stunned that you could evoke such a creation from me.
I've never written a peom
At least not of this quality
Reading it, I can feel all the old emotions welling up inside.
How I felt of losing, losing a chance with you.
How much I want you still.
A poem filled with so much emotion
That needs to be read, that wants to be read
That yearns for you to read it
The poem is reaching out for you
Like everything surrounding me that yearns for your presence and touch.
The phone calls out my name, begging me to speak to you
Through it's electronic airwaves
It begs me to tell you all my secrets
All my love for you.
But something will hold me back
Something deep inside me telling me, "Not yet"
It's not the right time.
You're not ready yet.
You haven't yet realized our potential
How great we are together
Do you believe in soul mates?
Do you believe you could meet your soul mate and never know it?
You can only find your soul mate if you believe
Believe in me is what I ask
I believe in you
I know you'll realize one day
How beautiful we are together
A copy of the poem still sits waiting for you
Knowing that when you see it
It will be the right time
You will have realized
And I will have found you again.

The following is probably one of my favourites from these early years. It's short and sweet (like me... hehe... bet you thought I wouldn't be able to sneak that in, huh?), and has a melancholy feeling.

FOREVER RAIN

You are special to me
I wish I were special to you
But if you don't feel the same
Then I'll be forever blue

Because forever the sun won't shine
Forever it will rain
Forever I'll wish you were mine
Forever I'll feel this pain

UNTITLED

Do you still remember the night we met
I still remember the sweet, soft, tender kisses
you placed on my lips
I remember the feel of your arms around me
And how I loved it so

I still remember you standing outside that club
Looking so angel-like, something about you
still reminiscent of innocence
I loved the smile you gave me
My heart jumped in delight

I remember our last kiss good-night
And how much I wanted you to stay
But you had to go away
I wish that never happened
Because I'm still wanting you as much as I wanted you then
But now you're out of my reach

I remember the agony of not seeing you
Of wanting to hold you again
It holds me back, remembering
I don't like that feeling
I don't want to feel that way - but I do

I live to want you
And I hate to want you
Only you, so much
Please tell me you still remember
Remember the sweet kisses we shared
Remember the time we spent together
Someday, I hope you'll remember
Someday, I hope you'll return
To share with me those tender kisses
To share the warmth of our arms around each other
I hope you miss these too
As I do - I miss you.

A LOST HEART

I can't be alone
I need someone,
But I can't be with someone.
It hurts too much knowing that he's not you.
It was always you,
Since the very first day,
Since the first kiss.
It took me by surprise.
Then the second,
It overwhelmed me.

It was always you.
You, with the crystal, bright, blue eyes
That could see deep inside me
That it was you I was looking for.
I was looking for you all that time
Never knowing that it would be a stranger like you,
Who would take my heart away.
But not so much a stranger,
After only a few minutes I felt I knew you,
Knew you from a vision I had.
A vision I had when I was a child.
Did you have that vision too?
But of me.
Not really knowing who the vision was about,
But knowing that it was meant to be.

You've left me now
And gone to someone else.
You've left me to lead my own way,
Left me to miss your sweet smile,
Your tender touch,
Left me to feel the pain of losing you,
Left me with the memory of having you,
Only for a small moment in time.
What was meant to be
Never came to be.
Or will it?

Still it hurts being with someone
And longing for someone else,
Someone from the past,
Longing for the one who took my heart
And never gave it back.
"Give it back! It shouldn't belong to you."
Not until you come back,
Until you come back to fill the emptiness inside
That my heart has left behind.

If only I still had my heart,
Then I could be with someone else,
Then I could give to someone else,
Someone who deserves to have my heart.

But it was always you.
Always you that my heart belongs to.
In that small space and time,
I gave my heart to you.
If only I had your heart too.
I hear in my mind and I believe in my soul,
"Love can touch us one time
And last for a lifetime
And never let go 'til we're gone."
Do you believe that too?
Do you even know?

It was always you,
It will always be you,
That I love.
Right from the start,
"I love you"
And no one else.

A LOVER'S PORTRAIT

There he was, so thoughtful and pensive. What is he thinking? The music was playing. It was slow. Who does this song remind him of? He is tall and handsome, always with a cheery smile; yet, sometimes a sense of melancholy floods over him. You can see it in his face. How he looks down and tries to hide his feelings. "I can't cry," he's likely to be thinking. Then that smile appears again. You notice his hands. They are large, but seem gentle, amlost soft, like a kitten's purr. You notice his hair, black; how it falls over his eyes, his beautful brown eyes. He likes to hide how he feels.

You see him from far away, walking toward you. He's wearing the usual. Blue denim; big, baggy, and a plain white T-shirt - though not too plain, there's a Club Monaco crest on it. There's the same smile again. You're reminded of how that smile makes you feel. It's amazing how he make you feel so loved and cared for. He devotes all his attention to you.

You remember the conversations. How there was so much to talk about, but it never seemed enough. his voice echoes in your ear. It suits him; handsome, almost boyish. you talk about school, life, and love. He's so idealistic, so naive. he's young and he's innocent. Nineteen years and he still seems like a child. you know what he wants - a perfect wife, a beautiful home and later, adorable children. You tell him what you want, what you plan on doing. you realize - same dreams, same ambitions, but different somehow. "we're too different," you think. but something draws you to him. What is it? Can this be? Dare you think the possibilities. Shall you say it, perhaps whisper it. "Love." But you don't dare tell him, things are too fragile, too unsteady, too easily broken. You let him know only one thing. "I care about you," you say. No reply. Surprise, shock? Couldn't be. He always knew. You leave it at that. "We can't talk anymore,"he says later. You know and you let it be. You tell him that you'll be fine. "Don't worry."

You haven't talked anymore. You miss him. You knew you lied telling him that you'd be fine. If only he knew the truth. How you miss him - his companionship, his friendship. Things are too easily broken. Maybe it was, maybe it is. Shall you say it, whisper it once? "I love you," you whisper to the air, to the wind, with no one to hear you. Does he hear? Does he understand? You chance it again. "I loved you once." Maybe the wind will carry your words.

The following poem was inspired by the hit TV series, Twin Peaks, and is the exception to my naive idealistic adolescent viewpoint or writing. With this poem that I wrote for my grade 12 creative writing class, I was trying to get a sense of what it would be like to be the character Laura Palmer before she killed. This poem was the result.

TO THE OTHER SIDE

Deep in the darkness of my soul
I can feel it burning
It's a bizarre feeling
It haunts me

He comes to me late at night
In the hazy shade of moonlight
He enters slowly and quietly
And I wait silently

He walks toward me
Watching my fearful face
He wants to possess me
He wants to use me

I don't let him in
I'd rather face the door of deep darkness
In time the door opens to take me in
It's waiting for me and I slowly go in

Below are two more pieces of creative writing I did when I was in high school. I was very young, naive and idealistic when I wrote these. My oh my, has my life changed!

GOODBYE, MY LOVE

Lying here all by myself
I think of you
And why you left
I remember the good times
But I think of the bad
And I wonder why you left?

So many thoughts run through my mind
Different in all aspects
But all are the same
So many memories come and go
They're all of me and you
And you and me.

I wonder what had happened
What had come between us?
Why had you suddenly come into my life?
Then leave so quietly
You never said a word after
And there's no reason why
All I know is that you had left
Without a word of "goodbye"

I love you still, so much more than ever
I want you back, but we can't ever be together
It's been almost a year now
And I still can't help thinking "why?"
All I know is that I've got to say "goodbye"

THE DREAM

To dream a dream is a wonderful thing
Too wonderful to make reality
You are that dream of pure desire
That, of which, I can fantasize

I dream about you every night, asleep
I see your smile, I feel your caress
And I can feel your arms around me - tight

I wake up, it's a new day
I see you at a distance so far
Too far to touch you

I go back every night
Just to see your smile
Just to feel your caress
Just to feel what it's like to be with you

Someday I want you to be real
For me - and someday I want to
Wake up with you beside me
Holding me tight just like that dream
That'll never die

Back to Creative Writing
A Dedication
My Ritual-based Writing
My Creative Writing
My Creative Writing (the early years)