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January 23
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Darling,

I thought I saw you on the evening train today. Your hair was flowing, red and fiery like it normally was. Except it had a different shine to it this time like you had moved on – like you weren’t looking back…except you did look over your shoulder – a glance –  to adjust the strap that was slipping off. It… wasn’t you, though.  The smile cascaded to a frown and I turned to look at someone else’s stranger.

Baby,

I considered burning the rest of your clothes your mother didn’t ask for (I couldn’t bring myself to do it). I sat in the vintage yellow seats of our kitchen instead, drinking strawberry tea out of your chipped green cocoa mug and staring at the starfish above the window in place of your mother. I considered shattering the cup, since she didn't ask for it either. I couldn't bring myself to do it. She didn’t know what she was doing. if she had, she would’ve taken all of you from me. I know she couldn’t have known.

Bird,

Margaret called me afterwards; not hours, but a couple of silent weeks. It made me smile in the dark morning of the kitchen. She said, “April, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” Why was she sorry? What did you do? I didn’t ask. I thought it’d be better to leave that to you. Hearing her voice was almost like feeling your arms around me again. My lips smiled but I don’t think my heart did.

Cece,


I woke up yearning to kiss the peach from your mouth.  After all this time it’s still difficult to open my eyes and face the day, but this morning seemed impossible. The sheets weighted themselves down on my chest like snow on a roof, silent and troublesome. The warmth was a false sense of security for the emptiness of your side of the bed. Harsh sun greeted my eyes that sought shade in the early hour and our black kitten who is no longer a baby still sleeps curled on your pillow, leaving space for your head next to his, waiting for you too.

Celia,

Have you seen The Virgin Suicides? Listened to Death Cab for Cutie? You adored films and stated that music was your life. But was it?

“What lingered after you was not life, but the most mundane, trivial list of facts. A ticking clock on the wall, a room dim at the start of the evening, the outrageousness of a human being thinking only of herself.”
And

“And the soles of your shoes are all worn down the time for sleep is now; it’s nothing to cry about 'cause we'll hold each other soon in the blackest of rooms.”

You weren’t the base of undivided attention from prepubescent high school boys. You weren’t some estranged, beautiful, yet vague character in a song. You were vibrant, tenacious, confident and stubborn and imperfect and I loved you for that. Except… except you gave portions of yourself to me that I didn’t ask for but needed and they sneak up when I’m having conversations and it annoys the hell out of me.


Dear Cecelia,


I have been instructed to tell you my final words and thoughts. However that is not what I have been doing so far. Although, what I’ve accomplished without you is staggering, and I know you already know but lists are supposed to help:



• Washed and hung the sheets to dry
• Bought my cat a new collar
• Repainted the kitchen chairs
• Started smiling at strangers
• Gave your clothes to Goodwill
• Invested in a twin mattress
• Called your mom
• … And shoveled the snow from the roof




With Love,
April
(P.S: I’ve finally been able to look at the bridge on my way to work. Today its friends were clouds instead of you. I don’t know when it will be that I’ll be able to drive on it again, but maybe soon.)
This is an epistolary for Creative Writing.

+ Wow!! A Daily Deviation. I never thought I would see one of these in my deviantart career. Shows how much I've improved as a writer and I'm quite fond of all of the lovely comments and favourites. I will respond to each and everyone if I can.
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Daily Deviation

Given 2014-02-04
:icon-elly-:
The thing that reaches me most about this is the elusiveness of the loss. Is the gone? left, walked out? We all know that hurt. From the beginning our heart starts to yearn for a love we've lost. And then you continue. We all mourn relationships, we mourn and grieve and you move through this movement so fluidly. So beautifully. And then you bring the real pain.

The beauty in this is the understated, the unsaid. The true mark of amazing writing is leaving our imaginations to fill in the blanks. This touches me personally on a number of levels. To know this is creative writing and not personal experience is just.. remarkable. You are remarkable.

I've always found it so hard to read others' writing.. out of jealousy mainly, my lack of confidence, my own selfish issues. I am glad I stepped out to mourn with you through this piece. It truly marked my heart. Well worth the DD, you are incredible.

Your writing is just.. you've progressed so far and this is fluid and wonderful. I can't fault any part of this. It's visually appealing, broken up so that I wanted to continue to read small stanzas, broken by the pet names. So tragically beautiful.

well done.
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:iconaquarianbabe:
AquarianBabe Mar 8, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
I absolutely always look forward to your additions to the comments on my pages, let me tell you.

The thing is, is that I suffer from depression. And so I know what it feels like to lay in bed with snow on my roof, suffocating me, even if it's sunny outside. I know, understand, and empathize with the spectrum of human emotion. This was not easy to write, the amount of drafts I went through and the thinking of my own feelings. The unsaid is unveiled with the P.S at the bottom, and not many people catch it fully. 

Thank you so much. And noting the pet names, was intentional as well. They go from haybb how u doin :eyes: to plain formalities that strangers would use or, for maybe a lost loved one. ;) 

Thanks bunches, dear. (Check out some of my other stuff too! I'm gettin so good. :eager: )
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:icon-elly-:
I caught that. And that's where it hit me. I was recently uh.. escorted.. off a bridge. Right in the feels there.

The P.S is what makes it. It takes it from a forlorn love to a deep a sorrowful sadness. This is real loss. This is loss that is worse than any. The loss of someone's choosing, someone who was quite clearly, loved. Who left a pillow with a cat on it.

The way you move through time is beautiful too. And to anyone who has suffered from any kind of mental illness, your laundry list of feats are indeed great.. and to those who haven't, perhaps an insight.

It really is exquisite.
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:iconaquarianbabe:
AquarianBabe Mar 8, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Come to me my love I love you you're wonderful screw commas I don't need commas in comments. :hug:
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:icon-elly-:
Hahahahaha :love:
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:iconemmaalice98:
Wow...thats really amazing i like cried and I don't cry much. Thats probably the most precious thing iv read in a long time. Your DD is completely deserved!
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:iconaquarianbabe:
AquarianBabe Feb 14, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Wow thank you so much I muchly appreciate the compliment. And as I said in my previous comments, YESSS it made you feel what I wanted you to feel. :iconscoreplz:
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:iconsageoftwilight56:
Sageoftwilight56 Feb 6, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
This is... so beautiful. I almost cried... okay, I'm lying, I cried. This is one of the most beautiful pieces of writing I have read in my life. Your DD is well deserved. La la la la 
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:iconaquarianbabe:
AquarianBabe Feb 6, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
:evillaugh: Good!! It was meant to be sad, of course. And if I can achieve that with writing then I know for sure all my years of writing frivolous things have paid off. Thank you so much for the words.
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:iconsageoftwilight56:
Sageoftwilight56 Feb 7, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome! I have always loved writing, since I was very young, and I love when I find that gem of a piece. I think I've found another. Keep writing lovely stories, dear. Heart 
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