It’s 8:14…On May 4th…May the Fourth be with you, dear Reader.
I’m writing because I have a lot on my mind. I had a surprise guest that kept me away from writing all day so, I spent the day in the garden…getting the last of my potted plants in the earth.
Tomorrow my therapy begins for Broken. I’m frustrated because I wish there was someone I could talk to. I have one person in mind I want to talk to more than anyone, but he isn’t here anymore.
So to him I will write.
First and foremost, I miss you. I’m scared and I want for nothing more than to feel safe and have no worries. I think of you often and I spend most of my time, putting you out of my mind because it isn’t real…none of it is real. Not even you…
Reader? Are you still there? Have you ever loved someone who you didn’t know was real. I’m not so sure anymore. Imagine…imagine if you were schizophrenic and you saw someone who wasn’t there. Now imagine that they were so real, so…perfect…you couldn’t help, but fall in love with them. Now imagine how you would feel if, after two months, you learned they weren’t even real.
Would you stop loving them? Could you?
I should write this into one of my books. Not a fantasy 🙂 I am playing around with the idea of writing romance. Before you groan, I want to write the kind of romance that hasn’t been done before. I hate the perfect endings…the “happily ever after” crap and Disney (Okay…I adored Beauty and The Beast and Tangled). I want…I want to write macabre romance…a love story with a bittersweet.
Candide…Voltaire. Dark Shadows…The darker, bitter side of love that is doomed to fail…with a twist. That is what I want to write. Gothic romance. No vampires *angry eyes*
What would a romance novel look like if Edgar Allan Poe wrote it? That is what I want to write. A Dark romance.
I see this woman standing there, watching her Love sleep in the arms of his wife every night…and she stands by, cursed to spend his lifetime at his side. I see another woman, another story, where this woman falls in love with a man who adores her…After months of wedded bliss, she learns she is schizophrenic…and the man who told her to see a doctor…her husband…was never real.
The meds she takes prevents her from seeing him. Oh…I could do such things with this.
I miss…I miss him.
Did I mention I’m broken?
