brought to you by teenage angst

I was doing some digging tonight, and I came across some old writings I did when I was about 16. They have a slightly immature nature about them, but all the same, I think the messages they convey still speak to me the same way they did 6 years ago.

My 16th year was a very difficult one...this may very well be reflected in these passages.

I am going to share them here, unedited and uncut, and this is a lot for me; I'm pretty sure I never showed anyone the things that I wrote back then...

Almost exactly 6 years ago

4/18/03
Untitled #1

Mind fierce with anticipation
Heart racing with anxiety
Wondering what will come of
A moment worthy only of perfection

Thunder disrupts a once calm sky
Flashes of lightning pierce the velvet blue heavens
Diamond sparkles in between
As I gaze into a curious wonderment
Dreaming of a perfect reunion with a more perfect someone

Untitled #2

True love, once expressed, will never fade
Though probably shown in less than perfect terms
It can always be found hidden deep within

Long after the moment is ideal
Love is many times expressed through hate
Disguised and manipulated
It cannot be destroyed
Moments of passion, fits of love
Always remain love
Hate is triggered by a love gone wrong
Or by a raging, incurable jealousy
Or by a lethal combination of the two

4/19/03
Untitled #3

Awaiting your arrival
This moment put off for too long already
(heart beating faster, can't focus)
I shake with worry
(because you're late)
And I become frantic
(because this day can't fail)

You appear
And slowly your embrace finds mine
Tears frozen in my chest
(because this moment can't be real)
I surpress them inside
(because this is in fact real)

Throw me around you
(you bend down so I can reach)
This moment, dreamt of so long
Ending in an instant
Lasting forever in my mind

My soul aches for your last embrace
Heart hurts when you leave

Say goodbye for now
But this isn't the end



This last one really gets to me, because although it was written at a different period of my life, I feel as though it could have been written yesterday. This particular piece was about no one in particular, though it could easily apply (today) to a very certain someone.