-
When I woke, I thought of silence. There is snow on the ground that makes your footsteps soft, as though you don’t really exist, just a ghost of a thing wandering through possible realms of existence. I cannot remember any of my dreams. My ears still ring from the other night, and in a way, that is comforting. I take my noise in feasts and enjoy the silent scarcity for the days to come. I wanted to do something meaningful, pull something out of me to show to you, something to make you love me. But I do not sleep and I do not eat and I do not think I have anything inside of me to give.
Posted on December 20, 2009
This is about loss-- of the people we love and the people we used to be. This is about letting go and growing up. This is about Janie. This is about the ocean.
This is a work of fiction. It is a place to help me write my story-- my internet notebook.
Some of the posts tell a (somewhat) cohesive narrative. These posts are numbered. Click here if you'd like to start reading the narrative from the beginning.
Other posts are things I find that are inspiring to the story-- things my character would like if she were a real, live, living girl. -N
