12th of August, 2017 marks The Birth of White Peacock Journal: With great heartache and pain, and certainly not shame, a deep sorrowful feeling carried for months in silence. The silence has slowly chipped away at my soul leaving a near empty shell. To the voices unspoken, the ones left unheard, breaking the pain of silence to heal once again.
DAMP COLD GRASS SURROUNDED US, HIDDEN FROM THEM ALL A NIGHT ILLUMINATED BRIGHT WITH STARS
CHILL FROM THE AIR SETTLES IN
MERGING CLOSER TO ABSORB EACH OTHER’S HEAT
IT FELT SO RIGHT
COMFORTABLE AND EASY
MY HAND ON YOUR CHEST, YOUR HEART BEATING FAST THIS MOMENT CHANGED OUR LIVES
THIS MOMENT EMBEDDED IN TIME
THIS IS THE MOMENT THAT SHOULD NEVER END
I wrote this for you because you were my everything.
I wrote this for you because you had my heart.
I wrote this for you because you were my destroyer.
I wrote this for you because you broke my heart.
Writing not what she knows, but what she feels.
“When writing a novel a writer should create living people; people, not characters. A character is a caricature.”
“Write while the heat is in you. … The writer who postpones the recording of his thoughts uses an iron which has cooled to burn a hole with.”
—Henry David Thoreau