Author has written 7 stories for Escaflowne.
This is long over-due, I know. But, let me start with a consolation—this is not a goodbye note.
Instead, it is merely an explanation for my extended absence. Presently, I’m a senior in high school and “rough” would be an understatement to describe how this year has been (and is).
Starting out, I encountered Romance that was beyond the pages of a novel (notice, I don’t call it “love”—because it wasn’t) which delineated the obsessive declarations of “love” from a man who fell in love with my poetry (yes, you’re allowed to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it) which frankly speaking, scared the daylights out of me (you would positively cringe in your seat if you read the things he wrote to me—no it wasn’t physical or lustful really, but still…very weird and frightening because of the depth of fanatic emotion it contained.) He took almost a stalker status, threatening to find me somehow with the IP address, that all he wanted was to meet the girl who “subjugated” him. Thankfully, I haven’t heard from the man since January.
Next was a friend, and the events that followed seem like out of a romance novel; it started as jokes and myself nagging and lecturing on his many faults and licentious behavior…and during the “reforming the rake” period, it strangely developed somehow, into something serious. At least on his side. At first I was fooled into feeling yes, that this was if not love, but deep affection and it felt…heady and intoxicating to be wanted and desired, that I could make this guy who flirted left, right, and center want no other girl but, well, me. Yet, as time passed, I felt less and less sure whether I wanted him, and he felt more and more sure, and more “in love” with me. -_-; It was a novel experience to be wanted, but the truth was, I never wanted him. I was too busy experiencing yearning from another person. And so, for a while, there was guilt, and mostly, overwhelming shame at my actions (no no, we weren’t physical! I’m still un-kissed!). So, I told him, and it was the most difficult thing ever, not wanting to hurt him, yet hurting him. He hasn’t gotten over it, he still jokes with me, sometimes even becoming serious.
You ask, dear Reader, why I am telling you all of this? Well, since the subject on which I write is love and romance—this had a rather strong, negative impact on me. I felt paralyzed, unsure about what I was writing, and the realization that I didn’t want adoration or love shook me to the core (at least from those people). A more disturbing idea is the fact that at this point—I really don’t want any man known in real life. No movie star, no model, no class mate, no boy-next-door.
I only want One—who is always at the corner of my eye, whose name is always at the tip of my tongue—with an utter longing that makes me tremble.
But He doesn’t exist but only within the cages of my mind at this point—and in a few months, I hope he will in ink, immortalized and enclosed in pages.
It’s a crisis maybe only another writer can understand, and if not, then I can still smile patiently, because I know how far-fetched the concept is almost, if not, to the point of lunacy.
Here’s the dilemma though: I know no being can be like Him. I know I will never find Him. And I don’t know whether my eyes will always compare every man to Him, whether I will search for Him in someone else’s voice, seek for a trace of Him in someone else’s smile.
A friend of mine said my standards were too high in men, that’s why. And I gather, she’s right. I, as a writer, I suppose extend some influence on my readers. And I was frightened, that maybe, even if one you, ever looks for something like what I write—they’ll be disappointed. But then, I am optimistic, perhaps I’m not so far off the mark, perhaps men such those that have been penned, do exist in this world.
Ugh, what is the point of this rambling note? It’s that I am confused. More importantly, I am afraid, afraid of what I write, afraid of what it makes me expect in life, afraid that I don’t need a real man as long as I have Him, and ridiculously afraid of the way I react when a man tries to say something sweet (I roll my eyes and think ‘oh gosh, I’m gonna get cavities if he keeps on like this!’).
So give me just a little more time to sort myself out, and I promise you dear Reader, your patience will be rewarded and worth it.
Needless to say, other than the soul-searching, there are also academics. I am hopelessly overloaded with six Advanced Placement classes this year. And since the exams are in May, I’m pretty much busy preparing for those. So, dear Reader, if you believe in a God, do offer a quick prayer for me that I achieve success in those exams, because my motivation to work on the stories is sorely linked to it and so is the happiness of my parents (which means more opportunity to write!).
With this, I offer the writers blessings to be kissed by the Muse, and the readers encouragement to keep reading and reviewing! It’s people like you who keep me going, who even in the abyss can shed light and offer hope.
As for those people who’ve sent me personal emails, please, please, do not lose hope. If things go well, I should be able to reply to them soon.
Starry Eyed Wonder