Character studies are my new thing now. I create people in my mind, and I twist their words to create personalities. I’m working on one about a lawyer with no prior knowledge about law, but rather a premise of what it might be like. However, the one I’ve posted below is a new idea I’ve been working with. I’ll be honest: I don’t know where it’s going. I read a post on a prose Tumblr blog the other day about writing a story in which the main character falls in love with the reader. I’ve been told it’s literally impossible, but I’m up for the challenge. I think this study started off with that objective, but it seemed to divert into various paths. It’s not complete, but here’s what I have so far….(note: this is completely fiction. I am not a pessimist…)
I was once told that I am a pessimist because I see a world that is half-empty and you see a world that is half-full. But I am a realist. I often have thoughts that I cannot fathom. Sometimes I feel as if my body is separated from my mind by a fine line that never falters. Other times, I am simply disconnected. And I take it that you think you understand how I feel, but you, the constant optimist, cannot comprehend the pain of falling apart.
Speaking of falling, I have never fallen in love before. I have a theory that love doesn’t exist, and I spend every day searching for some form of invalidation. We live in a world of billions, but acquaint ourselves with only so few in our lifetimes. I am often a creature at a zoo, isolated by iron-wrought cages and taunted by liberated passersby. I have never stepped beyond these boundaries, and perhaps this is why I have never found love. I am not a believer of soul mates and star cross’d lovers, and neither am I a believer of Shakespeare. Yet, I am a believer of a moment of impact, and I have not found that moment yet. Think about this: Maybe this moment right now, writing to you, is the peak of my story, and maybe from here, it all descends. Fate is bloody cruel at times. I suppose I am merely a victim of life.
I would like to tell you about myself. I am not understood easily. I write letters in my spare time, and when there is no time to spare, I am but a wanderer. There is no one in particular whom I write to, just to the passing souls who care to have a listen. Yet I am free in this one sense; I have never had to appeal to an audience in my writing. I am a mother to words that dance to their own beat.
Just a bit of an insight into the world of my hidden writing. Try not to judge me too much. I figure that it’ll be a challenge to write in the perspective of a pessimist, when I consider myself an optimist. Or maybe this is just my moment of self-discovery. Back to work for me! Hope your weekend is fabulous.
(PS. Penguin Plunge is next Saturday at 11am at the waterfront, SO GO SUPPORT THE CHILLIN’ CHAMPS! I’m also still looking for donations! Help out a fantastic cause.)