Breathe out, and begin.

This, this is for you.

This is for the mousy brown haired girl who died it pink, hoping maybe her mother would notice. This is for the wedding planner who never got a wedding of her own. This is for the girl who walks out of the room during the slow dance and the boy who watches her go.

This is for the girl whose jeans are too loose. This is for the man who shot for the moon and fell into the dark abyss instead. This is for the little boy who is so, so sick of having his head under the pillow. So sick of hearing the fights.

It’s monotonous.

This is for the bullet that never wanted to hurt anybody and for the prima ballerina who never asked for the spotlight. This is for the adults that are scared of the dark. This is for the lunch ladies and the world-renowned surgeons who never lived up to their potential. This is for all the miscarriages.

This is for those trapped inside their heads. Stop analyzing.

This is for the pilot who’s afraid of heights and for all the insomniacs. This is for the underdogs- the boy with the brother who’s the star quarterback, the girl with the prettier twin sister.

This is for the unseen and the unheard and the unsaid.

This is for those with handkerchiefs over their mouths and nooses around their necks.

Speak.

This is for the criticizers. This is for those who ask, “God? Are you there?” This is for the weary and the dreamers and the weary dreamers. This is for the disillusioned and the brokenhearted. The failures and the inadequates. This is for the cast aways and the unfortunate and the overwhelmed and the fools and the shipwrecked and the ruined. This is for they who are grasping at last straws. This is for the future you, just around the bend, and this is for me.

Speak. Someone will hear you. You are not alone. Turn on the microphone, or maybe just stop the murmuring inside your head.

STOP WHISPERING. Stop talking to only yourself.

Come out from under the tides and grab the hand that’s being held out to you. It is for you, after all.

Wake up.    Take a deep breath.    And speak.

We’re all listening so let inspiration bleed out of your every word. Let the elation gather in the air around your face like frosty breath. Let us see it. Let us feel it. Let us wave our hands through it, just so we can be sure it’s real. Because we need fresh air.

We need unfamiliar air.

Philosophy Filled Boots

I need to refill the lead in my pencil. Refill the lead in my life.

I need to refill those things called emotions that are supposed to go in my heart.

Can I have an instruction booklet, please? Thanks.

I always wanted to be somebody’s last chance. I was hoping to be yours, but instead I burned the letters because everything I touch turns to ash, anyway.

Was our love worn in or worn out boots?

Your opinion was switching so fast towards the end that you about gave me whiplash. 

No, not boots. I think you compared our love to a coat, one that you grew out of a few years back. The kind that’s just a bit too short, a little too tight in the shoulders.

That sure made me feel good.

But I gave you false compliments and white lies! Isn’t that what you do when you care about someone? Sure, honey, that puke green goes really well with your eyes.

I was there for you, I really was.

And in my mind I was even giving you real compliments, the ones that always brought that uncomfortable expression to your face.

You never liked the truth, that’s a fact.

And now my emotions feel like shattered glass and a roll of tape that doesn’t work.

“When will we own ourselves completely?”

That was what you asked me. I didn’t understand- why would I have to own myself when I had you to take care of me?

Ah, now I see.

I keep forgetting that you left.

I feel like I’m getting swallowed up in the tides while I wait for you to come back.

Wait.

            Wait.

                        Wait.

I’m starting to feel uncomfortable in my own skin- like I should start looking for the fire escape because all I can see is the smoke I’m choking on and the absence of myself.

I should start coloring outside the lines and

wearing sunglasses that nobody thinks are my style.

I should start disregarding social cues and

stop slowing down at yellow lights.

I should stop giving up because, seriously, what a waste of time.

So pack up that awful coat and

those philosophies and

my feelings and

walk away.

Oh.

I keep forgetting that you left.

My Story

Ordinary World: Aria has grown up as a princess in her barbarian kingdom and is used to being downtrodden on by her father.
Call: A prince from another kingdom kidnaps her for reasons that are unknown to her. The call is for her to become a better person, gain confidence and the like.
Refusal: Her refusal is simply keeping her head down and not doing anything about it, not standing up for herself.
Mentor: One of the guards becomes her friend and is her mentor throughout the whole time that she is in the country.
Threshold: The threshold is when she crosses the border into the other country and goes into the capital where the palace is.
Tests, allies, enemies: Allies of hers are the guards that were with her when she traveled to the new country. Enemies are herself and her natural submissive personality and all of the people in the country that shun her because she is an outsider.
Approach: She finds out that people are going to try and kill the royalty and she has to decide what to do about it- stay loyal to her own country or to her kidnapper's?
Ordeal: Her ordeal is saving the royalty and facing her own father in the process.
Reward: Her and the prince declare their love and it is super duper romantic.
The Road Back: Everything is all fine and dandy, she is living in the new country.

Death:She has to go back to her own country and everything is sad again. Wow. This post sucks.
Resurrection: Her father finally recognizes her as an individual and as a strong person.
Return with Elixir: She gets to go back to the other country and live happily ever after.

Archetypes

Hero: Aria is the hero, in that she grows throughout the story as a person and saves some people along the way, as a bonus.

Mentor: Her mentor is her friend that was originally one of the guards who helped with her kidnapping.
Threshold Guardian: The prince who kidnapped her is the threshold guardian but instead of guarding it, he kind of just shoves her through it.
Shapeshifter: This is one of the princesses that hates Aria.
Shadow: The shadow is really just her own self confidence, or lack thereof.