(The following is a portion of a novel I'm currently writing called MIDNIGHT. It's about a ghost who falls in love with another ghost. It's been a fun passion project I've usually worked on late at night. The title based on the Coldplay song certainly fits. Right now it has about a hundred of bits like this. I'm weaving them together with a storyline, but it's still very internal and poetic. I'm calling this bit simply "O Again" because I wrote it listening to the Coldplay song "O" just like several other chapters. Obviously this is one of the goodbye chapters near the end. I wrote SKY BLUE and 40 the same--in pieces at all different times. I have over 35,000 words on this. Hope to see it come to light one day.)
without a passion to be seen. So casual, so mundane. Just passing time. Just
giving a simple nod to a simple soul.
stand and reel and wonder.
You carve your skin and cut out
a piece and carry it over in your hand to give to her. And this---this is what you get in return?
she’s simply holding back because of the reality. But there’s this doubt—this
little demon inside your mind that’s been there your whole life.
You’re not something to wait for.
So very whatever. That’s what I
get? That’s all it will be?
real, painful goodbyes in life are never grand. They’re simply moments you have
to try and get through. They’re not accompanied by rapturous music or memorable
words. Usually they simply come with pauses and regret. Open-ended sentences
want the closing credits accompanied by the last meaningful song on the
soundtrack. I want to leave this feeling like I got my money’s worth. I want to
stand in the dark and proceed down the aisle feeling this joyful rush of
inspiration follow me out of the theater and into life.
life is not a movie. It’s not a song nor a poem. It’s not a sweet, little love
doesn’t have a two-hour limit that can be summed up by a two-minute trailer.
consists of inconsistencies, with broken character arcs and unresolved tension
and plot points going nowhere.
is a messy structure that would be rejected in the first round of a Screenwriting
For Dummies contest.
is that goodbye that’s really never uttered. The awkward, stilted, circular
sort of conversation that stays with you simply because it could have been so much
is seldom more than you want it to be. Yet you meet people that could never be
summed up with a simple story or a sappy song or a shiny painting. People—magnificent,
imperfect and complicated creations—are God’s artwork running on its own.
Faults and all. Precious and peculiar.
Maybe. Of course. One day.
That’s what people and life do.
They fly on past you without giving you a chance to truly say goodbye.
Labels: Midnight, Process, works in progress