Amy - Part 1 ExtractEntry 1Amy - Part 1 Extract
I've started a diary of sorts. This in itself isn't like me. But my conversations with Amy seem to have something I need to keep. I want to capture it in writing. Whether I can is something I don't know.
I met her two weeks ago. She couldn't have seen me; I'd never been in the room, never walked past it. The nurse I explained this to shrugged. She'd just been asked to fetch me.
The girl was sitting up in bed, I placed her age at about fifteen, sixteen. Just a little younger than me.
"Hello?" "Hi." "You... wanted me?" "Mmhmm. You had nice footsteps. I heard them. They soun
WandererSmell of the grass woke me from those highway daydreams, parked three miles from the middle of nowhere. Top down dozing on the side of the side of the road, letting the mind drift into places unknown. That’s how I’d liven for a long time, drifting like my dreams, in one town for a day or three and then pulled away by that urge to wander. People, places, faces had all passed before my eyes like I’d passed through their lives; like the dry summer breezes that threatened to blow my hat off as I sat in the car with the sun beating down, trying to make sense of the last dream.Wanderer
At every bar, every inn I’d stopped at
Dreams and EdgesI was a poet once.Dreams and Edges
A poet indeed, yet they called me artist. Those days of dreaming, giving raw life to the lines which would fizzle and spark between waking hours and insomniac nights. And this was what gave these words such power; each word was a piece of soul. Not just mine, either, for those dreams gave them another truth to surrender to, and in doing so they gave a strand of soul whilst forming their own conclusions and immersing themselves in those words.
I came and went with the dreams, for they had the mastery, and in doing so heard the tales of others. Diversity fuelled the fire, and I wrote in ways both ali
... III: I Can't Be Arsed
Angsty
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