holy shiz shes never goin down
I’m probably going to cry when the queen dies and I’m american
England will fall
The world will cry when the queen dies.
SHE IS THE SUPREME
snap snap snap snap
snap snap snap snap
It’s a bizarre thought to me. The best novels I have ever written are ones I will never read again. I faintly remember the stories as I stare at them sitting on the shelf. I can even recall the sensation of turning each page with enthusiasm and hope. I was ever trusting in the words that flooded the paper. Soaking up each exhilarating sentence, I was foolish to forget every tale has an ending. Ignorance isn’t bliss. Eventually, you have to recognize a story takes root of its own. You can’t control when the ink will run dry, when you have to put down the pen, and when you have to get up and walk away. All that’s left is a collection of scattered pages no one cares to read. Even the individuals you once wrote them about.
Reminiscing on these novels, I recognize nothing is more disheartening than binding those pages together and closing the cover. I know if given the opportunity, I could have written a better ending for every single story on the shelf before me. I could have tied the final lines up with something noteworthy. A bow filled with no regret, fear, or disdain. No letter would have been left unwritten. If only given the chance, my novels could have been best sellers. Never forgotten; only cherished. Instead, my stories lean against each other as fading memories. Almost in a mocking manner. Almost in an, “it’s not even worth it to pick up the pen again” manner.
There is a silver lining. My beloved novels are ones I will never read again for a reason. I refuse to hold remorse over their flaws and failures because they paved a way for me to find myself as a writer. You see, I now know I am not a writer who settles for a lackluster plot. I am not a writer who desires characters lacking in moral fiber, passion, or ambition. I am not a writer that will be bound to works of great pain, betrayal, and misfortune.
I now know I am writer who prides herself in each stroke of the pen. I am a writer who fills each chapter with adventure and optimism. I am writer who overcomes every foul turn in the story line with bravery and love. Even though every great work must draw to a close, my next novel will not be placed on the shelf of happily never after stories. In sickness and in health, for better or for worse, I am a writer that will fight for the fairy-tale ending until the very last word.