Warming Words

She cupped the hot mug in her hands, the heart shape long distorted into a blob of brown. It was so nice and soothing and warm. It really did warm her up, make her feel better. Things were funny like that, much like laughter being the best medicine. After a while, everything always turned out okay. The stresses were released, or would be in the coming days once assessment was over. Music was a healer. Writing was life. Or at least, supposedly, even though sometimes she utterly hated it. It was strange. She had two days worth of assessment to fill the weekend with, and she felt relieved. Things were looking up.

[112 words]

Trail of Words

The pen hesitated before the paper, shaking with the movements of the bus. She didn't really know what to write. Maybe if she wrote the words would slowly come. Nothing really meaningful, just words. Small and messy, but readable. The music played softly in her ear, so beautiful and perfect, even without words of their own. Her thoughts trailed. Memories of school, older ones from primary. Future ones that wouldn't happen that she would still imagine. Love and laughter. She would be bound to have a few laughs when her journey came to an end. The funny ones were always the most engaging. Sometimes, at the worst of times, her imagination just trailed and the words didn't sink in. But today they would.

[123 words]

Concentrate

14 June 2010

Time was running out and she couldn't concentrate. There was noise and laughter and the scratches of the pen. Writing would come to her when she went to sleep, not when she was chatting to friends at midnight. Later, she'd prefer, later! But it had to be done. She couldn't break the tradition, not now. And so she wrote.

[59 words]

Crazy But Logical

4 June 2010

Being happy felt good. Why shouldn’t it? Happiness was the key, she discovered. Smiles all around. That and laughter. Laughter always was the best medicine, was it not? Of course it was. Excitement was coming. Fun was coming. Excitement and fun were great. She could be young again. Not that she was old. They would tell her she was old, but there was and always would be a child at heart. She wouldn’t be able to live if there wasn’t. How unsatisfying would life be? It’d be all grown ups and no play. She didn’t like the sound of that. She wondered why then, she wrote such horrific and child-scaring stories. She wanted a change, an escape, though not wanting it literally? Crazy, but logical. Maybe she shouldn’t delve into the realms of why. Why wasn’t important. She had other things she needed to do that were.

[147 words]

Full Of Emotion

It's amazing how many emotions and feelings you can go through in a day. From the stupidness and embarrasment, to the quiet and reserved, to the nervous and squirmish. To the dizziness and annoyed, to the happy and focused. From there everything can drop to worry and sadness, hopelessness. Which can speed right back up to joy and laughter, and the best feelings in the world. Then you rewind slowly into the reminiscing thoughtful stage, and the comforting stage of someone else's problems. Then you listen to the noises around you, and slow down for the night, ready to get back to the business of brainstorming: losing yourself in another world again, to experience someone else's emotions. Someone who lives in pain and heartache. Someone who is scared and afraid, yet angry and crying on the inside. Someone who is weak and helpless, who can barely let out a smile some days. Someone who is hurt. And you remind yourself that you need to change that soul's life around into the randomness that your life brings - the range of other emotions that need to be spread around equally. Because you're the writer, and you're the only one who can do so.

[202 words]