“He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.”
What a waste of flowers. To tug at the bright petals, waste their beauty on words that, quite honestly, never hold any true power. Don’t pretend it isn’t true. If you reach the happy end, you let a smile on your face and ponder the possibilities, letting something as simple as a number decide someone else’s feelings. You forget that it was by chance that you picked that flower, and that while we have a fate of some kind, no plant can determine it, nor the truth. Perhaps the fluttering petals that now litter the ground are just an excuse for the literer to believe whatever thoughts flow through their mind, perhaps it’s just the kind of mind game you play on yourself, a way to rationalize something based on irrationality. At the same time, if you end on a sour note, you are pulled back to your senses, and you strip the act of all of its power. You withdraw the magic you believed in just before it disappears forever, just before you see what you hide from. It’s a stupid game. A game that only ends with a fool and wilted stem.
Humans are kind of dumb, I’m not going to lie. We explores the depths in which we were never really intended to see, and we pick apart everything we find, and yet, while we’ve been gifted with speech, we keep our mouths shut, our thoughts hidden, our pleas silenced. We let the world dictate us before we dictate our worlds. We hand over the controller to everyone else who doesn’t have control over themselves either. And if you don’t fit this category, you’re an outcast, broken, rude, unrespectable, unloveable. Sometimes I wonder if people remember who they were before they had a line drawn around them, or if perhaps, none of us has ever really known.
I get tired of trying to know myself. I get tired of trying to understand why I am the way I am. Is it really just genetics, a certain series of neurons setting off, signals traveling through my mind? In that case, am I really just a sequence of chemical reactions? Is that all it is? Is that all I am?
It feels pointless. Every answer will just make me ask something else, a never ending cycle of the lack of acceptance. The lack of just being ok with what I’m given. Ungrateful I suppose. And yet, I don’t stop. “Why?”, you may be asking. Hell if I know.
“I love him. I love him not. I love him. I love him not.”
We don’t ask the irrationality to answer this question, even when we don’t know this answer. Perhaps it’s because we know, deep inside, that we won’t be satisfied with this mind game, we won’t see that magic that we let decide the facts of someone else’s life. We’re selfish. We are the complicated ones, the ones who’s emotions can’t be summed up to flower petals, even when it’s perfectly fine to use on someone else.
We want say that we are so much more than the facts that we’ve uncovered, we want to believe that we aren’t as simple as they make it seem, and it isn’t our fault. It isn’t our fault that we believe that we are so complex, because it feels complex, while in reality, maybe it’s actually very simple, just beyond our comprehension. Maybe we simply aren’t capable of having an answer. Maybe that’s why we pluck flowers. Maybe that’s why we stay quiet in the loudest moments. Maybe that’s why we keep asking questions. At the same time though, who am I to tell you this?
Hell, I don’t even know what the point of this writing is. I don’t know what I wanted to say, what I wanted you to get out of this. I started with something, but I’ve lost it in the moment. I don’t know. Take this train of thought of mine, and do with it what you wish. It’ll come and go, just like any other. Maybe you’ll find some magic in it, some understanding that is beyond me. Or, maybe not. I’ll let the flower petals decide.
Dear Simran,
This was truly a great piece! The emotions were expressed clearly in a way that everything felt so real. The music that you have provided flowed very well with your piece, and it made it a lot more interesting to read. The first lines of your piece: “He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not”, immediately caught my attention and I only wanted to read more, and the imagery of the flowers and their petals felt so vivid. I also enjoyed the way you ended off your piece in a way that felt so impactful to the reader.
Overall, this was a very well-written piece, and I am glad that I got the opportunity to read all of these throughout the semester!
Sincerely,
Mariam
Dear Mariam,
Thank you so much for reading my blog post. The whole post actually just originated from that first line, and everything else just kind of built off of that. I’m so happy to hear that you enjoyed this casual sort of piece that I just kind of threw together. It means a lot to know that you found joy in reading something that I wrote so naturally. With that, I would also like to thank you for this year. You and the rest of the grade 12’s in our class really made this semester very memorable, and I cannot thank you enough, for your friendship and for the memories! I had a great time, and I hope you did too!:)
Sincerely, Simran
Dear Sim,
Oooooh. That last line. Chills bro, chills. This piece was extremely well done, conveyed a whole lot of questioning while simultaneously leading the reader on to a point that you attempted to convey throughout the piece. Makes them think about their life, kinda like some existential crisis that you and the reader can share together. I also find it kinda funny that you used a lot of metaphors such as “passing the controller on to someone when you do not have control of yourself”. This really helped play along with the whole message of questioning whether there is truth to fate and if we should just role with the flow or if we should keep to our human ambitions of constantly questioning why things are the way they are. That’s why I really liked this post, it made me think a lot.
As for glows, really just some run-on sentences here and there. Maybe try and break some of those up every once and a while.
I really enjoyed reading this post, and I’m proud of you for growing so much as a writer over the semester. Each piece you’ve written you’ve become more formal and wiser and I feel like that created a more enjoyable piece to read personally. It feels like you’ve found your groove and are able to comfortably write with it in such a beautiful manner. Really well done.
-Jimmy
Dear Jimmy,
First off, thank you for taking out the time to read my blog post. It genuinely does mean a lot to hear that you (one of our “esteemed 35’s” hehe) saw my growth through my writing, as I’m very proud of myself as well. It’s kind of crazy how much had changed over such a short time, and how I’m only now starting to notice it. It’s incredibly rewarding. Your comment on my comfort with writing is dead on: this post really came naturally to me. It was like the words were forming in front of my eyes, a beautiful tempo between thought and writing that I’ve become very fond of. As for the run-on sentences, I’m rereading what I wrote, and I can see what your talking about. I’ll do my best to keep that in mind for the future. With that, I would like to thank you once again, not only for the comment, but for talking to me about CRWR at the beginning of the semester. I had no intention of staying in this class in February, and now I cannot imagine how dull these last 5 months would have been had I followed through. Thank you for helping to make this a memorable year!
Sincerely, Simran:)