So basically, I write a lot. Duh, why else would I be here?
I write short stories, mostly sad ones.
I'm working on a very long novel, and it's kicking my butt right now because I don't know where do go with it.
But mainly, every night, I write what I call a "PSA" (public service announcement). It's basically about a page long and it just talks about letting go of what you love, stop caring how people see you, and to stop trying to be better than everyone else.
My latest is called Love.
here it is, tell me if it's acceptable for a place such as this...
Some say love is like a roller coaster. Some say love is like being dipped in warm water after being in the cold too long, covering you, leaving no part untouched. Some say love is like heaven.
Some people are wrong.
Others say love is a one way street.
Well, that's close.
To tell you the truth, love is like those crash test courses where a car slams into a brick wall at 35 miles a hour. With all the dummies inside. All those dummies, dead.
Well, not dead.
But When their heads crash through the windshield and stay motionless on the ground, it'd be easy to make that mistake.
Love, like most disasters, starts out small. A crush, a kiss, a cuddle. And like most disasters, the death toll keeps rising after the last tremor disperses, the last drop of water washed back to sea, the last ember burned cold. People still have infections, burns, and bruises from whatever tore through their life.
After love, the death toll still rises. From crushes, to kisses, to cuddles, to enemies. Anything you love, a boy, a girl, or money, somebody else will fall in love with it too. Everybody wants everything to themselves. Everybody is everybody's enemy in the end, that is if they don't leave you or die.
Try as hard as you can, your money will still start to dwindle, your looks fade, and your friends leave.
From crushes, to kisses, to cuddles. The death toll is always rising. In the end we'll just be a bunch of dummies scattered on the ground. Dead.
Well, not dead.
But when you're there on the ground, glass raining down on you tell me how you feel. Try to brush off your shoulder. tell me it doesn't hurt. Tell me you wouldn't rather be dead.
Just try to tell me love isn't a disaster. See if you can look me in the eye and tell me it was worth it.
Tell me what you think, please.
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