Creative Writing: Non-Fiction
The Diary of Aurora
The words blur as vivid pictures bloom through the mind’s eye. Dead trees and black ink bound together by string, creating a new world, magical enough to become lost in. Tales of princesses, wizards, and villains. Their adventures, battles, losses, heartbreaks, and journeys formulated in the puzzle of twenty-six letters. I, myself, have always felt lost in these worlds. Travelling to faraway lands, fighting wars, creating friendships, and falling in love, all in the comfort of my room, with each turn of a page. It’s an escape in a way. Vanishing from the anxiety and small stresses of life, simply becoming enriched in a world that no longer belongs to you. It’s where I found myself most mornings back then. Before life caught up to me and the piles of tasks and responsibilities buried me, stealing away the time I cherished the most. My secret hideaway.
It was where I was then. Lost that is. Tucked away into another universe, connecting to the characters on their journeys, feeling as they do through loss, joy, and anger. It was an early morning, sunrise. The light grew through my open window as birds awakened, singing their morning song.
Soft lyrics spoke through the room as my teacup accomplice sat beside me. A cool breeze fluttered through, creating goosebumps up my arms as the burning liquid became vapour. It was a calm atmosphere as the rest of the house lay trapped in the death grip of sleep. As the sun grew brighter, I would become enchanted in the small words that littered the pages, each chapter drawing me into a point of no return. Minutes, hours and if no plans were in place, days devoted to the comfort that reading would provide me. It continued like this for quite some time, book after book, story after story, with laughter and tears following as a soundtrack.
But like with most things in life, good things often do not last. Life caught up and I felt myself slip away from my hideaway. Quickly shipped into a world of work, school, and the never resting mind. I had become sick of the repeating cycle of life’s gloom. Where my love of books and reading became overshadowed, leaving my heart empty and longing for the comfort that the words of another once brought me. But as the cycle draws to renewal as the sun rises once again, I feel that hope within, that the hideaway is not so far out of reach. For like most tales the hero must reach rock bottom to be able to rise once again. Where nothing is truly lost unless you do not search for it. I know deep beneath the piles that have buried me awaits my secret hideaway, ready to transport me somewhere new once again.
Dear Dorothy Jean,
Life has been different these days well not really for me
But first, hello, how are you, its been some time
I hope things are well and the days aren’t passing by too quickly
I’m sorry I have not visited.
I have been swept away into an ever-spinning tornado
The eye of the storm, that’s where I seem to be
Twisting and turning in every direction
Hardly catching my breath, going dizzy as life spins
But no matter, I’m just glad to check-in
How is your shoe collection or your activities that take place?
I hope it has expanded and that the games are fun.
I simply have grown up now
Well at least that’s what my age tells me
But deep down I feel like a scared little kid
Clasping on for dear life, too scared to let go and step forward
Into the large unknown world.
People say they’re proud of me, I’ve heard it from you as well.
They say I’ve matured and sometimes this makes my heart swell up inside
But I really just feel sad for the little girl who grew up too fast to escape the harm only the world can provide.
Enough about me, what have you been doing?
Any new recipes or plants to care for?
Have you made it to any antique stores or visited with someone more?
I have just been working
Whether it be for someone else or on myself
I’m doing something it seems
But there are still nights where I lie awake
Wishing everything would just stop
For a second or two
Where I could breathe and let my shoulders fall
Or maybe let myself rest for more than a five houred clock
Or maybe the chance to have my mind take a break
From its marathon running on a tightrope track.
Anyway, do you have any more stories to share?
Any tall tales from when you were a little girl?
Did you have any times when you felt like me?
Or maybe did you also wish to be free?
I feel lost
I don’t know where I end, and my other self begins
I feel haunted by the mask I wear to cover my flaws
Playing the needed part in everyone else’s plays
But remaining the understudy in the story of my own
I think I may just be stuck
In a place of unknown
Where I wish to leave, explore, and discover the world
But I find I always get dragged back into my home by those who don’t want me to go
Like a Lego piece stuck with glue, set in place….
I miss you and I’m sorry once again
Maybe when I’m no longer in the storm, I’ll stop by
Bringing my true self, leaving the mask behind
Ready to say hello and fully letting go of goodbye.
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