My Life as Stephen

Fuckin' look out

1 note

In the beginning.

In the beginning, there was only me. I had only a need for myself, to strive for an image within myself that I knew the rest of the world would smile upon and say “yes, he can be one of us.” But eventually, I grew tired of striving for this image, a part of me was being squashed down to the bottom, it was being forced into a cage, and pretty soon it was bursting to be free. Once I accepted this fact, and I accepted who I was, I began to show the rest of the world, to demonstrate how being me wasn’t really so bad, and I began to look for love. One drop was all it took, and then I craved it. Ever since then, I’ve been blinded by it, and I’ve realized that it flows through my veins like a poison, ever causing me to do bad things, ever causing me to fuck up, but it has also brought me such a blissful happiness. In the few short moments that I did feel love, it brought me so high up into the sky that I could see nothing but clear skies and sunshine. But the times that followed, the times where I fell out of love or it was ripped from me caused me to fall from such bliss, and the pain of doing so, the bitter sting of betrayal, was and is something that still haunts my tender heart. To say I have given up on love is a lie, but to say that I am extremely protective now is an honest truth. I can no longer simply offer myself freely to someone, as I was once capable. I can no longer put full trust into someone I barely know, but who makes me feel like a million dollars. I have been tainted, robbed, beaten, betrayed, and so many other words that simply cannot contain the kinds of vile, cruel punishment my heart has had to endure. These pains serve to me as signs, of what not to do when the next boy comes tromping onto my heart, and also as a lesson of caution, what to look for to find a boy who will simply do nothing but enter your life just exit and cause you sever distress. Will I ever learn this lesson? Perhaps it is impossible to think anyone ever could, but I try. I try so hard that I end of contorting this lesson so much that it simply twists right back into hurting me yet again, but the point, I guess, is that I do try. And I will continue to do so until finally I find a way to make it work, to find a boy that will know how fragile my heart it, and who will do nothing but protect it against the evils of this cruel, heartless world.

Filed under Love Improv Book Pitch Book Idea Improvision Improvisional Writing Writings Writing

  1. sawsac posted this