Every Waking Minute

Every second of every waking minute, I think about the story I’m writing. Its messing with my head.

A couple of nights ago, I had a dream about the story. It’s by far the most evocative and intense dream I’ve ever had. I can’t understand why I’m so obsessed with this story. Its not like I’m in love. But this story, takes my breath away. All I have is disjointed paragraphs, half-formed dialogues and yet, with each passing day, I fall more and more in love with the characters in the story.

Anyway, here is a brand new excerpt -

‘I watch the waves crash against the rocky coastline. I wish she was here with me. But she’s gone now and I didn’t even stop her. I know I’ll regret it much more than I already do. They say, time heals all wounds. It doesn’t. Time simply hides the wounds from the prying eyes of society. The pain remains. It keeps growing. ‘

Seriously short excerpt, I know. Couldn’t help it though. This one was the best of the lot. Opinions?

I have written more stuff. Will be putting it up in batches.

 

 

Good Grief!

Another sleepless night. Another weird song/poem. This one is inspired by my writer’s block (read prev. post).  Anyway, here’s the stuff I wrote -

In love with a girl I’ve never known,

Captivated by a smile I’ve never seen,

Crazy over kisses I’ve never felt

Don’t know how it happened,

but fiction blurred with reality.

I ache to write about her,

but I can’t find the words to describe her.

Never thought I’d fall in love,

And yet, here I am,

irrevocably in love with someone who doesn’t exist.

Close my eyes in the dark of my room,

I can almost feel her lips on mine,

Shivers run down my spine.

Spend every moment tortured by a memory that never was.

How can it be I wonder -

How can a love so false feel so true?

That’s about it. Can’t believe I’m so hung up over this story. I’m not even writing about something I’ve gone through but I still feel connected to it.

P.S. – Let me clarify, I’m not love with some random girl in reality. Too lazy to love.

Writer’s Hell

I’m living in writer’s hell. Reached what seems to be an insurmountable obstacle. All day long I sit with a pen in my hand, trying to put words together. I’ve managed to jot down a few things.  In my heart I know that if I don’t write this story, I’ll never be able to forgive myself. Its a love story. Below is an excerpt of what I’ve written -

‘Loving her becomes harder everyday. She is my oxygen, the very essence of my life; and yet I mean nothing to her. She wakes up in the middle of the night, dresses up and then leaves. I tell myself to walk away while I still can. But then, I remember her smile, the way her lips moved against mine, and I freeze. I don’t know know whether I’m just in love with her or addicted to her. I don’t want her to be with me if she isn’t happy with me but I don’t want her to be happy with someone else either. I know its selfish but I want her in my life, I need her in my life.’

I wonder if what I’ve written is good or even decent. And since my readers seem to have abandoned me, I doubt I’ll ever know.

P.S.- Haven’t decided the sex of the narrator yet. Male or female – which is better?