|Diary entries for 2008 (standard:romance, 828 words)|
|Author: Cyrano||Added: Dec 18 2008||Views/Reads: 1558/850||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|I was taking a stroll through my diary...through my life. No rhyme and no reason, just words that were meant for something. Lost before I remembered where...or to whom.|
Antarctica Today, for some odd reason, I have Antarctica on my mind. There is no sensible description with which to explain its beauty or even try to interpret my feelings about the place. How could I describe the unimaginable? A place where the hearts yell will never come back. Where the sunset happens half an inch above the ice. Ice already on fire with flame. The Atlantic Ocean extinguishes it, and everything is still. Gone. And all that is left...me. Cooking. I bought mince, red peppers, onions and tomatoes. The adventure of cooking. I reckoned it could not be, or should not be too difficult. I set out to make something and pasta: the something that couldn't, in my mind anyway, fail. It worked very well, but sadly the pasta couldn't be retrieved from the base of the pan. Clearly something wrong with the Teflon. Fortunately there was bread, stale, but what the heck. I sent the pan back to the maker who claimed nothing would stick to its base, with a note asking what they think the problem might be. Romance It's like I haven't been in love enough times to be reliable on the subject. I read a lot of stories and according to Mr Mills and Mr Boon your first kiss must happen on the shore, walk off into the sunset and never come back. Goodbyes I've never been best at prayers. I was always in trouble at school for praying with my eyes open. It's just that, well, I want to recommend to you, for safekeeping, my dog, Lucy. I cannot tell you she is not trouble. I cannot tell you she is not, at times, the greatest pain in the arse, but she has touched people and she has given joy. She is my true friend. Yours sincerely, Writing. The stories I write are of my own invention, they belong to no one else but me, they are what I feel, what I need. They are my cries, my despairs, my jubilation, and my triumphs. I've been blessed in such a way that I can hardly relate to people anymore, I'm confused all the time. My whole body wants to reach out to people, say hey, listen, how are you, tell me what's happening, I need to know. Children. I spent years telling myself my children don't belong to me; that I'm simply charged with bringing them up, loving them, preparing them for the day they will leave me. In that time I tried to set examples - show them integrity, humbleness and direction and I know in my heart that sometimes I was lazy with that, knowing from birth it takes many years to lose a child to the world. Then one day it's done. I never met all my children's expectations... but they met all mine. Polly put the kettle on...Polly put the kettle on... let's all have tea. On the subject of being lost. (Or Falling in Love) I want to say so much to you...but what's the rush? I'll come to be with you, share in you; be your friend and love you as best I can. In return I'd like you to care for me, care for our friendship, care for my privacy. Have no fear, have no reservations, we know each other very well and we will be fine. I will look after your emotions and be fair and right with them. Let's start with that, okay? Nature's cruelty. “Would anybody call you beautiful now?” I ask, seeing a dead jellyfish recently washed up on the beach this morning. I sighed aloud and looked up at the clouds in the sky. I knelt down to take a closer look. There Click here to read the rest of this story (26 more lines)
Authors appreciate feedback!
Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
Cyrano has 95 active stories on this site.
Profile for Cyrano, incl. all stories
For a quick, anonymous response to the author of this story, type
a message below. It will be sent to the author by email.