my writing corner

Immortality is but a dream. Ideas and words live on, As does a legacy left behind. We are never truly mortal; But immortality can never be achieved.             Immortality is just a dream.             We can never be unbound by the chains of humanity,             The cycles of the Universe.             Mortality suites us,             In the cyclical life of humanity.                         We are stuck between mortality and immortality,                         Overachieving one,                         Never to achieve the other.                         Reckless abandon to prolong life,                         In hopes to savor it just a little longer.             But humanity binds us to mortality,             Just for a moment.             In a moment,             We are suspended in time, just past mortality.             And then, it’s gone. Nothing left for us just past that edge. We fall before we can reach it, Sliding away to the in

Whole new worlds, faded memories, brilliant colors in quickly changing scenes. whether asleep or awake, i can never escape a dream. dreams about memories half-forgotten, the pictures yellowed in the corners, and the edges crumpled and bent, or dreams about my desires and passions, bright and vivid, leaving me yearning for something more. flashes of things in my mind, snippets of things unknown, forgotten, never seen, not understood; sometimes random things, beautiful, amazing, breathtaking, or ugly, sad, disgusting, scary. i am a dreamer. my mind flows with creativity, with crazy thoughts and unknown wants. it shows me things i never knew it could. my dreams float upwards, expand and fill the spaces between the stars, so big i can't contain them. i am a dreamer, i allow myself to escape, to want, desire, and run freely as i dream. i am a dreamer....

the colors of my dreams are bold, vibrant, alive. the colors of my dreams are dark, dull, slow. different every night, awash in the quicksilver rays of the moon, running on an empty blankness of a white canvas. the colors of my dreams inspire, drive, and awaken me; they show me something more, something that I long for; they give me something to live for. the colors of my dreams seep into the colors of my life. the colors of my dreams are the colors of my life.

silent suffering internal disquiet sadness, discouragement, anger, emptiness, hopelessness, lost, questioning, self-hate, pain, torment, but I put on a smile, outwardly showing everything is okay, an untrue statement about being fine, just to get by, just to get through the day, wishing I could just find peace in the internal emotional and mental turmoil. hoping it would just end. instead, I'm drowning in the darkness within my mind. and in the relentless tidal waves, I lose myself, I forget who I am. all my fight is gone. the light at the end of the tunnel has been put out. and in the darkness, I can't find myself, cant find my way out. and the tidal waves pull me under. I succumb, I let myself go. and I no longer feel a thing. just a shell, pretending everything is okay just to get through the day. and just like that, my true self doesn't exist. at least not for now. when will this end? I don't know. and I let myself go, give into

(Editor's Note: This is a work in progress. I'm hoping that I can get some positive criticism on this story as I post more edits to it. Thanks.) The river bubbles and skirts around the bend. The waterfall comes over a cliff, maybe a 20 foot fall. On either bank, trees fill the space, tall and full of green leaves. Foliage, plants, the previous autumn’s blanket of brown leaves cover the ground, small woodland animals darting in and out of their coverage. This is where the gypsies come to bathe and for fresh water, to fish, and occasionally for spiritual gatherings in the moonlight.             The sun is low in the sky as I finish rinsing my hair in the waterfall, the cool water caressing my skin. Few birds chirp in the trees, an occasional squirrel runs up the trees. Other than natural woodland noises, everything is silent. I smile as the rays of sun dance and play with the droplets of water on the wall of the cliff; I watch them gleam like gems. Suddenly, a dead bran