This is my creative writing piece so far. Exam's tomorrow and I just started writing a while ago. Looking for some feedback on it so far etc.
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]My father’s been dead for five years, so you can imagine my surprise when I saw him the other night in my dream. Well, I didn't really see him to be honest, I simply knew I was going to. I was an astronaut, sitting alone in my spaceship, on the way to the moon. He would be meeting me on the moon later, and I was both anxious and excited to see him, to finally talk with him.[/FONT]
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[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]And by talk, I mean to actually talk. To say whatever I wanted to say, without judgment or condemnation. To express myself as I felt, to give my thoughts wings and to fly them into the world. People talk far too much. They say too much, without saying enough. They hide their deepest and truest desires behind menial conversation, afraid to express themselves for fear of rejection. It is only after you have lost everything, all notion of rules and acceptability, and disregard everything you have ever learned, that you are free to do anything.[/FONT]
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[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]When my father died, I just felt lonely, like my one real connection to the world just cut off. I couldn't deal with it, so I just shut down. I convinced myself that I couldn't feel sadness if I couldn't feel anything at all. I tried to find someone else to tell everything too, but I just couldn't relate to anyone. I'd go home and sit on my roof, watching the airplanes fly overhead, and stare into the stars. I use to wonder if there was anyone out there looking back.[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I felt the gentle nudge that signaled my arrival. I left the spaceship, and when I took my first steps outside, I was engulfed by the silence. I couldn't hear anything, only the beat of my heart pulsing through my ear drums. It was then I realised that only when nobody else is speaking can you hear yourself. This is because people don’t listen; they simply wait their turn to speak. It is only free from outside distractions and opinions that you can truly hear yourself speak. It is only alone that you can truly realise yourself. [/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I looked out at the stars. It was so dark, but if you looked far and hard enough, you could see the bright pinpricks in the blanket of space. I looked down at the Earth, and for the first time, truly realised just how alone I was. And right there, I caved into all the emotions I'd shut off for so long, and I wept. I wept for every person I'd ignored, every experience I'd pushed away, every possibility that had swept by unnoticed. I wanted to be myself again, more than ever. To feel every emotion, experience every event to it's fullest capacity, and to come out the other side.[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]But for all my thoughts, I'm still just a lonely kid on the moon. But at least now I realise why we feel the need to group together, why we feel the need to share and to feel safe within numbers, why we need to belong. It is because only other people can witness and testify to our successes, to our failures, to our moments of joyous exhibition, to the moments where we think all hope is lost. We long to know that we matter, that we exist, no matter how small we may be. People, like scars, are a testament to our journey, to our experiences and ideas and thoughts. A record to our existence.[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]
[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I was wrong when I said that the only way you can realise yourself when alone. Sometimes, if you are lucky enough, you find the person who will listen, really listen to you. My father was that person that I'd share everything with. After school everyday, I'd look up into his face and tell him everything. All my secrets, my deepest fears, my wishes for the future, and regrets about the past. He was the one who saw me as I was, scar tissue and all. And when he died, it was like that part of me died and left with him. It was as if all my thoughts, my sense of self that I shared with him simply disappeared, and I was insignificant. My previous self died, and I was left just a shell, with no one to vindicate my existence. No one left to cheer me one throughout the battles, to congratulate me on my victories, and to reassure me when I lost. It is only now that I realise that happiness is only truly experienced when it is shared.[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]And when I woke up, it was completely dark. So I just laid there a while, waiting for my dad to arrive too.[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]My father’s been dead for five years, so you can imagine my surprise when I saw him the other night in my dream. Well, I didn't really see him to be honest, I simply knew I was going to. I was an astronaut, sitting alone in my spaceship, on the way to the moon. He would be meeting me on the moon later, and I was both anxious and excited to see him, to finally talk with him.[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]
[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]And by talk, I mean to actually talk. To say whatever I wanted to say, without judgment or condemnation. To express myself as I felt, to give my thoughts wings and to fly them into the world. People talk far too much. They say too much, without saying enough. They hide their deepest and truest desires behind menial conversation, afraid to express themselves for fear of rejection. It is only after you have lost everything, all notion of rules and acceptability, and disregard everything you have ever learned, that you are free to do anything.[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]
[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]When my father died, I just felt lonely, like my one real connection to the world just cut off. I couldn't deal with it, so I just shut down. I convinced myself that I couldn't feel sadness if I couldn't feel anything at all. I tried to find someone else to tell everything too, but I just couldn't relate to anyone. I'd go home and sit on my roof, watching the airplanes fly overhead, and stare into the stars. I use to wonder if there was anyone out there looking back.[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I felt the gentle nudge that signaled my arrival. I left the spaceship, and when I took my first steps outside, I was engulfed by the silence. I couldn't hear anything, only the beat of my heart pulsing through my ear drums. It was then I realised that only when nobody else is speaking can you hear yourself. This is because people don’t listen; they simply wait their turn to speak. It is only free from outside distractions and opinions that you can truly hear yourself speak. It is only alone that you can truly realise yourself. [/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I looked out at the stars. It was so dark, but if you looked far and hard enough, you could see the bright pinpricks in the blanket of space. I looked down at the Earth, and for the first time, truly realised just how alone I was. And right there, I caved into all the emotions I'd shut off for so long, and I wept. I wept for every person I'd ignored, every experience I'd pushed away, every possibility that had swept by unnoticed. I wanted to be myself again, more than ever. To feel every emotion, experience every event to it's fullest capacity, and to come out the other side.[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]But for all my thoughts, I'm still just a lonely kid on the moon. But at least now I realise why we feel the need to group together, why we feel the need to share and to feel safe within numbers, why we need to belong. It is because only other people can witness and testify to our successes, to our failures, to our moments of joyous exhibition, to the moments where we think all hope is lost. We long to know that we matter, that we exist, no matter how small we may be. People, like scars, are a testament to our journey, to our experiences and ideas and thoughts. A record to our existence.[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]
[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I was wrong when I said that the only way you can realise yourself when alone. Sometimes, if you are lucky enough, you find the person who will listen, really listen to you. My father was that person that I'd share everything with. After school everyday, I'd look up into his face and tell him everything. All my secrets, my deepest fears, my wishes for the future, and regrets about the past. He was the one who saw me as I was, scar tissue and all. And when he died, it was like that part of me died and left with him. It was as if all my thoughts, my sense of self that I shared with him simply disappeared, and I was insignificant. My previous self died, and I was left just a shell, with no one to vindicate my existence. No one left to cheer me one throughout the battles, to congratulate me on my victories, and to reassure me when I lost. It is only now that I realise that happiness is only truly experienced when it is shared.[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]And when I woke up, it was completely dark. So I just laid there a while, waiting for my dad to arrive too.[/FONT]
