literature

Find Yourself Here

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Silvercharmed's avatar
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Literature Text

...Even if you don't necessarily Understand (subtitle)

      You ask about my truths.

      About the realities that make me function, that build me up from the ground, adding on to myself in bits and pieces. I know that you want the stories. You want the descriptions behind the past moments of my childhood, or the recent memories of my present. You seek a method to the jumble of emotions and clichés that make  me, a reason for why I am where I am today. All these things you want, neatly presented for your convenience, and ease.  

      It is, of course, understandable. What one says, determines how another will view them. What is shared may make all the difference between whether or not you understand. So I would gladly tell you my truths. I would relate to your questions   the answers. However those responses will be questions themselves, for my truths are open-ended. I am who I am, so who am I? Can what I write, and what I say, answer for me that endless question?

*A moment of memory.
A fragment of what my fingers have written of their own accord, when once asked a similar question*

               This is my truth,
     The reality of what lies beneath
                  My surface.
           I am the wish for Red
              And gold wings,
          And the hope for a future
      Bathed in softest of Evenings,
           Where every star has
              Become my sun,
           And every falling leaf
        A world now opened to me.


      Then suddenly we are in the present again, quickly recalling that the question did not ask for a poetic answer.  But you asked for my truths. You asked the question of essence; that dangerous query that leads so quickly back to the dilemma of, Who am I?  So is this my reality, or is it yours? Do I tell you what I know, or do I say what I know you want to hear?  Do I line my words up for the sake of understanding, when it is the disarray that would really hold the truth?

      Very well, function over form it will be.

      Paragraph 1: Here would be the introduction to whichever story I decided to tell, most likely one that addresses some belief or personal ethic. Said story might include a simple tale of childhood, or the life-changing moments that we are so many times, forced to recall for essays sake.

      Paragraph 2: This would be the majority of the story. It would become the part where the truths I wished to reveal would be mentioned through what I said , as well as through my word choice, for I am quite fond of writing, and enjoy every chance I get to add in new phrases and ways of expressing what it is I am trying to say.

      Paragraph 3: This section would most likely be an expansion of what I had already said. It would give me a chance to try to clarify my points and views, just in case they were not previously understood.

      Paragraph 4: Perhaps, my last paragraph, this would contain the conclusion. A place for the final wording of what I believe my truths to be.

      So there it is. There is the attempt at structure, the effort to explain how my truths would come about being told. And none of it sits particularly well with me.
You asked for my truths. You requested a write out of a part of me that I have never been able to structure without sounding cliché. In the past, the closest I ever came, was within the lines of open verse that did not demand the attention of my mind, but the awareness of my heart. And when the verse was finished, and all the stanzas arranged to the fit that seemed just right, I was able to see the conclusion that had been written out so visibly before me.

      Who and what you are can be easily lost within the volleys of questions and answers that fling themselves before my life’s audience, namely those around me. It is the selection of words that you unconsciously string together when you know that no one is watching, the thoughts that flutter just under the surface for even a fraction of a second, and the fleeting emotion that spins before you until it is once again gone, that prove you.

      These are my truths, my understandings, my awareness that perhaps I’m being overly cynical, and my realization that I’m okay with that.
Alrighty, so for creative writing we were working on "creative nonfiction". We were supposed to write about a Personal Truth.

I hate creative nonfiction.

I hate writing about myself.

So i didn't.

I evaded the entire question/ assignment, and the "essay" above is what came out.

I was also slightly peeved when she said no poetry... so of course i put some in there.

:evillaugh:


I want to know what you all think!

please tell me!!!
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sorentense's avatar
XD That's awesome! And it's way more original than anything I would have done. How well did you do on this?