2. The only readings I have ever done were Ashley's and Bonita's stories, my favorite of Ashley's would be Black Sacrament, which was inspired by the first/last lines and a game called skyrim. I love the detail she puts in the insanity of the jester, as if it was straight out of the game. Bringing out his murderous side using puppets in the form of dead children to attack people, the emphasis being played in his lines, as if expressed in a way you want to see more of him and to end with a line that explains the magic behind his control. Interesting piece of writing. For Bonita, Black Oak hospital was my favorite, the description of an insane asylum and the feelings you can capture about the struggle of this man Shaw trying to get out just to be trapped yet again. I love horror that ends exactly where it began, in a way where it finishes with an ending no one would expect.
3. The setting of the blog is based on my deepest thoughts, the only people I could see reading this are the ones who would understand the beauty of including a little dark in things that are supposed to be like fairy tales. Maybe philosophers too, because most of my writing is reflective on humanity, that and includes real issues in the typical kid. I will continue to post on here, post more poems, maybe lighter but still with the same theme, maybe diversify a little on the issues too.
4. The things in my journal are about my struggles, my feelings more then my thoughts, the things i'm not really open with. I probably wouldn't want anyone to read it unless they would keep it to themselves, sometimes i'll just be fine then just write to write and then completely forget about what I was feeling, so if they were worried I wouldn't have to feel bad. I'll continue to write in my journal when life gets too hard for me to handle, so if I don't really want to describe what i'm feeling to someone i'll show them my writing instead.
5. Stitching up and breaking down, oh come back to me my sad clown. My bane, who drives me insane. Your stares so cold, still hard to let go of this hold. Hear you feeling my hand, misinterpreted so hard to understand. The definition in your smile so twisted, wishing the human heart never existed. Your thoughts bland, blood worthy truly in demand. Your lust for brothers knows no bounds, even if your mating with mad hounds. The same will it always be, for this is the world were forced to see. You know who you are, you know how I got these scars. No need to stop my beloved enemy, because in the end your the same as me. You can't stop my heart beat, you can't stop me flooding the streets. Watch the purpose of my smile, to cause destruction within every mile. This world mine the reason it exists, now watch the rebels raise their fists. Consumed with power of these hounds of hell, nothing left in the end but you and a story to tell. A gift given by a devil so pale, a lonely tale. Of a beauty and a beast, in the end he gets a good feast. This was poem was made when I was really bored, and its something to make note of because it actually reminded me of how I was feeling at the time, it was humorous.
6. I closed my eyes, head drooping, like a person drunk for so long he/she no longer knows he/she's drunk, and then, drunk, awoke to the world which lay before me. A world of madness lead by the lord of lies, showing man the way to rule such a land. Having his name told through books so they can use him to achieve greater, and torture the "weak" or the non-believers. The strong being told to feed upon the weak as if Darwin was their god, the world being tossed into chaos because of their one and only lord. Fighting for what they believe in, as bombs fall and the skies are stained in the bloodshed. A world now without light to their missionaries sent to other countries to spread their beliefs, only pulling the trigger first and forgiving them later. As the ones like I, drink, drinking from the wine of knowledge and the apples of temptation, just wishing the world would end. To get rid of the liars, the cheats, the killers and puppet masters, unfortunately a utopia is proven impossible. All man damned to the curse of want, the need to want more, to fight for that cause or die trying that is the curse of man. Dreaming that I could run away or save the weak from the strong, to stop the modern cannibalism like ones standing really matters. Such a constant issue of all man to feel better about themselves from picking at the dead or the poor just to find out were really all the same, dead. Only to awake again I yell at the world with such insanity that ears bleed, a screaming that comes across the sky. Negativity is my favorite writing I have ever written.
7. Any writing I plan on doing in the future is probably making video games out of little poems or stories that I write, what I get out of writing creatively is the ability to write about my inner most thoughts I never explain outside my mind. In ways it differs from my writings in school is that it is limited to a good amount that is presentable to younger minds rather then the more mature. In my life, my writings reflect on who I am, who I describe myself as, who I want to be and the things I have done to get here, good or bad.
8. Any final words of advice I could give to anyone is embrace these thoughts, any feelings that you would normally hide to any breathing life form on this earth. Use it as a median in your life when you lack that person in your life, sure they wont be understood in ways that you hope, but it'll help when the world seems against you. Just know your giving someone else the chance to see the side of you that you don't really express or the miracle of your imagination to bless their day with each piece of your creativity. This is the best advice I could give any writer really
From Negativity |
My little sister Sara |
Thanks for this thoughtful reflection, Austin. I'm glad to see you're still writing and posting and I hope both your blog and your journal continue to be valuable outlets for you. You're an interesting person with a lot to say and I enjoyed having you in class. Take care.
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