CREATIVEWRITING PORTFOLIO 2
Made with much passion with the companion of my fellow procrastination
WRITINGACTIVITY1: ATALEOFFRIGHT!
Writing a horror-theme story that begins with the following sentence: "I awoke that night to a strange noise coming from the corridor."
I awoke that night to a strange noise coming from the corridor. my eyes were locked with my roommate's as both of us jerked ourselves up into a sitting position upon hearing a faint sobbing just outside our dorm. "Did you hear that, Aqila?". She nodded her head in fear. I took a quick look at the time on my phone screen. It read 2:57 a.m. I knew this is not another event of the person in our neighboring dorm crying over a breakup. This was something else. I could feel cold sweats building up on my forehead and a chilly sense of wind travelling in the air. My palms were sweaty and my legs were slightly shaking. As i pulled the blanket closer to my chest, the sobbing subsided and I took a breath of relief. Aqila signaled me to go back to sleep. And so, i tried. So, i shut my eyes in hope I could fall asleep again but to no avail. the sobbing came back and this time around it was right below me. i sandwiched my ears using the pillow to eliminate the sobbing. as my mind was focusing on eliminating the sound, i could feel and hear scratching of nails beneath my bed followed by a voice calling my name "Elya.... Elya.....,". My mouth recited any words from the Holy Quran that I can think of. I was reciting the Ayatul Kursi when the 'creature' beneath me shook my bed like an earthquake. I tried to recite the Ayatul kursi louder but there's no voice coming out from my mouth but instead the 'creature' mocking my recital. I thought this is the end of my life that I'm going to die by the hand of creature beneath my bed. Luckily, the shaking and sobbing stop all of sudden.
I braved myself to take a small peak from my blanket and I saw a black figure standing beside my friend's bed, and the figure was trying to choke her. I was too stun to move and can only scream her name in my heart. Fortunately, the calling of prayer; azan save us both and the figure vanished in front of my eyes like ashes. Before the figure was gone completely I can hear the creature said 'he'll be back' with Arnold Schewenger voice. I am not sure what will be back but I for sure would not want to see it again.
WRITING ACTIVITY2:LIFE ANDASKETCH
CREATIVE WRITING
Sketching a unique character and assigning 5 personality traits to the character
1. Laid back
2. Depressed
3. Dishearten/ broken-hearted
4. Social butterfly/ life of the party
5. Extrovert
Mary is a simple girl. She does not like attention nor does she crave for any. Mary puts on a simple buttoned-down striped blouse with a pair of blue jeans. No accessories or blue eyeshadow. She combs her hair and puts on a nude brown lipstick with a light pink-tined cream blush, enough to give some ‘glow’ to her face and head to the party.
She straighten her shoulders and fixes her posture not portraying the exhaust and tiredness of the therapy that she has been attending. She takes a deep breath in and makes her way into the house.
Mary is greeted by a couple kissing by the stairs. Their hands and tongue are all up on each other. The smack of their lips puts a frown on Mary’s face. “You guys could at least get a room. It’s a shame to see this in first thing today,” Mary said though knowing they hear nothing. Mary is disgusted and let out a scoff before making her way deeper into the house.
Her face brightens up this fake ‘Hello, I am here’ kind of vibe and people start to greet her. Hugs and cheek kisses are exchanged. A friend of hers hands her a drink and she is then drag into a conversation. People like her. She is and always a favourite of others.
WRITING ACTIVITY3: SHORT NARRATING PARAGRAPH
Using all 5 senses to describe the setting and reflecting the mood
Mary dropped her bag on the floor. Sighing on how horrendous her week has been. The cold three in the morning wind brushed her cheeks sending chills down her spine. I left the window open again, she thought. Mary dragged her worn out shoes through the ocean of beer cans on the floor to the window. The creaks of the old rusty window caused Mary to hiss a bit in a cringe. The smell of linen made its way into the nostrils of Mary. She stared at the two weeks worth of laundry that are left unfolded on the bed. Mary has only been pushing the pile of laundry aside whenever she needs to sleep. That is one of the perks of the queen bed she owns except for the loneliness that greeted her side, a place where her boyfriend used to fill in. Mary sat on the edge of the bed, hands in her face, tears rolled down her cheek. A once warm cozy room is now just an emanate of memories of Mary and her ex-boyfriend.
Creative Writing
WRITINGACTIVITY4: EXPANDING SENTENCES
(1) Mary stepped out of the café with hot chocolate in her hand into the busy streets filled with men of the wolf streets and metropolitan women dressed in short skirts, pairing it with ridiculously tall stilettos in this crazy weather. Mary hugged her puffy jacket tighter, took a quick sip of her drink and made her way to her small yet expensive New York apartment. All she could ever think about at that moment was to get home and cuddle up in her favorite blanket. That cozy thought was then interrupted when Mary accidentally ran into another pair of arms that are not hers. To her dismay, the hot chocolate spilled all over the broad chest of that stranger. Mary looked up to apologize but only greeted with a pair of familiar green eyes.
(2) “I promise you this will never happen again,” his hands cupped her cheeks and gently stroked it. She looked into her eyes and could only found desperation for forgiveness not a hint of regret nor repentance. She can still feel the pain of the punch he let out last week on her stomach what more the slap he landed across her face thirty minutes ago. His eyebrows furrowed for respond from her but she turned her head away and clattering knee caps towards the bedroom. Stopping midway, “I want a divorce, Ryle,”.
(3) Cold sweats were piling up on my forehead. I can feel chilly wind travelling down my body though I am already perfectly embraced by my duvet. I turned my head to the side, it was 3am. The rustling and rushing steps in the kitchen sent chill down my spine. I knew I have to go check it out in case it is something worse than what my crippling overthinking thought. My barefoot touched the cold floor towards the kitchen. “Mom, is that you?” I reached out for the baseball bat. “Yes, honey. It’s just me, ” as ‘ mom ’ replied from the kitchen, ‘ mom ’ from upstairs called me out “Mary, what are you doing in the kitchen?” I gulped. This is definitely not a robbery.
WRITINGACTIVITY 5:LITITUP
CREATIVE WRITING
Seth is wondrous and adventurous. He finds inspiration from the swaying trees in the day and starry stars at night. He is the type who likes to see everything from as many perspectives as possible. Seth refuses to look at grass as how it is. When he sees grass, he sees hardworking ants and also questions how many time cats would pee on those hardworking ants. Many would say that Seth is one with the environment that is why he is too emotional for his age sometimes. Some people bear it as an annoyance when Seth become too deep but some people deem it as a blessing; to be able to interpret life, big or small, in Seth’s way.
Seth was taking a stroll on a fine evening in the park nearby his house after his Mathematics tutor. It was a norm for Seth to be one hour late home after his tutor. His mother understand Seth’s wondrous characteristic. So, she allowed Seth to sit in the park for a while after the stressful tutor. Through his ears, he could hear the birds chirping, children’s laughter playing in the nearby playground and rushing steps of those jogging. He could feel the nice subtle evening breeze kissing him on the cheeks and the smell of fresh greeneries greeted his nostrils like an old friend. Somewhere between those scents, he could also smell an awful odor of dogs and cats feces.
It left Seth wondering that evening. What if he could be other thing than what he was at that moment; a human. He imagined himself as a tree. Tall, bright green with connecting branches coming out from his bark. Whenever a wind pass by, he would dance along with it. There shall be no music but Seth would still be a dancing tree. Next, he imagined himself as a tree during winter. He wondered if he would be freezing cold and utterly sad when all the leaves leave him for the ground. He questioned himself on how to stay warm during that winter. If there is snow and no wind, how would he dance to shake the snow of him?
Seth also imagined himself as bright beautiful crystals beneath the ground. Will it bore him to be there until humankind found him? What if the humankind found him? Would he be happy to be cut into half and have his wonderful inside be taken out to bring profit for them? In the meantime, he would also questioned his patience. Can he wait for a week or even a decade until someone dig him out of the dirt? Would he be happy or in vain when somebody found his beautiful pieces of crystal?
Seth opened his eyes and all his questions and what ifs were vanished. He was still a human. A body occupied with limitless curiosity and abundance emotions. He was unsure if he could be other being, would he be able to cry and laugh.
WRITING ACTIVITY6: ODETOTHE ORDINARY
ANODETOMYAIRPODS
An ode to my Airpods, a pair of white sleek wireless earphones, homed to a magnetic case of the same color, my companion from winter through summer.
An ode to my Airpods, always place at the same spot, within the reach of my arm, to save me from any reality and fantasy harm.
Oh, my Airpods, my escape from reality, a bridge for me to run. from any cruelty that the world offers me.
Oh, my RM500 airpods, an impromptu purchase of mine, of which to exchange my despair, from absence of a human to the presence of a material.
An ode to my Airpods, A love-hate relationship that I have, with my wallet and debit card, in which you have caused.
WRITING ACTIVITY7: METAPHORICAL POEM
Composing a poem on an abstrac idea about love
Creative Wrtiing
Love is a shape-shifting material, It greets me in various form of my loving, It could greet me like firefly landing on a nose bear, The next day it could be the bear. Love can also be a welcoming home, A house of comfortable bed and warm shower, With refrigerator occupied by fresh fruits and bottomless coffee, A table set with my favorite food and my favorite person. But can also be a haunted mansion, Museums with frightful memories, A collection of my regrets and fears of the abusive, A long list of how love is nothing but a fear.
Love can take form of sunset, So warm, so bright yet so beautiful, It can also take a form of storms, That no boat can take me to safety.
Love is a shape-shifting material, It can be a knife pointing towards my chest, Or a couch ready to embrace me with care, Only if I know of which what kind of love should I take.
Creative Writing
WRITINGACTIVITY8: CHILDREN'SRHYME
Writing a children poem with ryhming scheme in a form of lyrical or narrative
Tick, tick, tick, the clock is ticking, To the playground I come running, For the friends I am meeting. Kick, kick, kick, Towards the ball I am dashing,
From my friend come the ball rolling, For my legs to the ball I am kicking.
Lick, lick, lick, The flavor that I am tasting, The chocolate flavor that I am loving, Of the ice cream from the van that is moving, Tick, tick, the clock is ticking, Home is where I should be going, That is all now for the evening, Tomorrow again to the playground I am coming.
WRITING ACTIVITY9: CONCRETE POEMS
building an image poem with abstract idea
Creative Wrtiing
WRITING ACTIVITY10: WRITINGA LETTER
Dear Elya, How are you doing? I hope you are as healthy as a horse and finally lost that 30 kilograms that you are dreading to lose. I hope you are eating salad and applying that five steps skincare routine because honey, you are thirty two years old. Well, I hope the early 30s is looking good for you. I am your 22 years old, last minutely working on the last writing activity that Sir Ariff had assigned sometime 2 weeks ago. That’s another thing I hope that you worked on; your procrastination. We both know we are a hardworking and passionate person but sometime laziness and the procrastination got in the way. So, I hope that we both successfully worked on that.
No, but in all seriousness, I hope you are doing very well, career-wise, love-life wise, honestly, every aspects of life. Are you married to the person that I am currently in love today? Any kids running around the house? Did you get the job at Velvet Vanity? I hope you do. I mean, Calaqisya would be good too. I’ll be grateful enough that you land a job in either of those two companies. And I hope they are paying you well. I hope you are still writing short poems any time before you sleep or whenever you are commuting back home or to work. I sincerely hope that you still have the strong passion in writing, because I still do.
Gosh, 32 years old, huh? We both never really planned to strive this far, right? But look at you now. Wait, can you do eyebrows and eyeliner now? I am still struggling over here to be honest. But I am also struggling in other sense, read mental health wise. I hope you are mental health is in a great healthy shape. I hope your husband, if there’s any or cat is helping you to cope with it in a healthy manner. Now, now let’s not get emotional. I hope mama and bapak are doing well too. And I hope too that you are visiting them always. Have you travelled to New York yet? Hopefully, yes. And I bet it was the best trip of your life. Remember how in love we are with New York when we were 18? We would print every aesthetic pictures of New York and paste it onto the walls, in your journal to spark some motivation anytime anywhere. Well, yes, I am 22 and I still do that. I am still quite in love with New York. I hope you did both of us a favor and visited New York. Ugh and Covid19. I hope it is far gone or at least subside by then. I have yet see the end of this pandemic. In fact, we are entering the endemic phase next month. It’s like to government is giving up on fighting Covid-19. Oh yeah by the way, you caught Covid-19 last 2 weeks, 7th March 2022. It was bad at first. But the loneliness during quarantine made it worst. You were stuck in your room here in Shamelin alone for 7 days. I can assure you this is not a dramatic rant. On God, it was awful.
Anyways, I am reaching the end of this letter. Let’s hope I won’t be impatient and read this letter, that is meant to be read again in the next 10 years, next week or the next 2 years. Do keep on writing, Elya. Write as many poems or short stories as you can. Publish at least one book throughout the remaining of your life. Continue to love and treat other with kindness. Be the best mother to your kids and wife to your husband. Cringe, I know. But be good, okay? Be as kind and gentle as possible. The world needs it. I love you, Elya.
Sincerely, past Elya.
12:07 AM
24th March 2022
SHORTSTORY ASSESSMENT
MARYJANE
Mary Jane stood in front of her Ikea body-length mirror. “This flower dress is too summer-y. But this black long dress looks like I am going for a funeral,” perhaps for the death of her relationship. Mary Jane is no stranger to negative thoughts. They are her childhood best friends who thought they are obligated to come to the party though they have never been invited. In this case, Mary Jane is the party. She used to hate on how negative she can be but the harder she tried to get rid of her, the stronger they become. So, she just let those thoughts sink in, making sure they never consume her as a whole. For the past 10 years, she has been succeeding the effort to let those negative thoughts to stay in her mind.
Daniel and Mary Jane were celebrating their seventh month together. For Daniel, the relationship was still new and they still have a long way to go. It was the opposite for Mary Jane, this was the longest she has ever been with a guy. The shortest period of time she has ever been committed to a relationship was only two months. So, you can imagine how excited she was to be able to stay this long with Daniel. Daniel was good for her. He was supportive of her career and he knew how to handle her panic attack. So, Daniel was her epitome. Mary Jane finally decided to settle with a knee-length black satin dress, pairing it with some gold jewelries and a pair of black stilettos that she bought of H&M. As she was spraying her Dior perfume, a text came from Daniel stating that he had arrived. Mary Jane bid goodbye to Storm, her black Persian cat, and left the apartment to go have dinner with Daniel.
“Is your steak okay?” asked Daniel about Mary Jane’s meal. “It is fine. Just how I like it,” Mary Jane replied while cutting through her steak. Someway, somehow she could sense some tense and stress between her and Daniel. Something was not right. She could feel the negative thoughts creeping in and she shook a little in attempt to shake off the thoughts. She can the clutters of forks and spoons filling the awkward silence between the current bite and the next. It was awfully quiet. “Listen, Mary. I have something to tell you, ” Daniel’s voice broke the silence. Oh shit! Oh crap! Mary Jane started panicking in her mind. She remained calm and answered “Yes, Daniel. What is it?” hiding behind her panic and anxiousness. “I am going to be frank. I do not think this would work out. I feel like I am not helpful and supportive enough. I feel like I am breaking you, ” Indeed. He already broke her with those words. Mary Jane did not respond to his words and continued with her meal. Only God knows how chaotic her mind was at that point. Her whole world crumbled and was on fire. She imagined some miniatures of her running around panicking, shouting, setting everything on fire including Storm. This is fine, thought Mary Jane. I have handled four breakups, I am sure I can handle another one, she convinced herself. The rest of the dinner was painful. “You could have just admit you are in love with another person, ” Mary Jane busted out. Where the hell did that come from? She panicked. “That’s the thing about you, Mary Jane. I cannot handle with your negative, dismissive thoughts. You expect the worst of people and it kills me. I am in love with you but not your negativity. It wears me out. It is a burden,” as if Daniel can imagine how burdening it was for her to actually handle the negative thoughts. Mary Jane hates it too. She hates everything about the negativity that she bears. “Look, I am sorry, ” Daniel continued. Mary Jane put up her hand, stopping Daniel. “No, Daniel. You are right. Let’s just end it here,” She could not bear to continue this conversation. “Let’s just finish our dinner and end it there,”
Mary Jane did not cry about the break up that night. She was simply frustrated. She had attended therapies, spent tons on medications and tried her best to outgrow her negativity and anxiety. Daniel was a significant proof that all of the therapies and medications did not work. Something is not letting her heal. Something of the past or maybe a worry of the future. It is a traumatic experience that she never handled? Is it the future that holding her back? Or is it herself that does not allow her to be okay? She noticed at this point that her overthinking will lead to her getting panic attacks and staying up all night breaking down over the abandonment. Mary Jane dragged her legs to her one-person kitchen and towards her ‘stash of healthcare’ cabinet. She reached out for a bottle of pills that reads “Clonazepam”, pills that alter her emotions and help calm her down. Mary Jane scoffed in disgust over the fact that she has to be dependent on some chemical substances to cope with all the wrongs in her life for that she cannot deal with it herself. She filled the glass with some water and chugged down two clonazepam before straddling back towards her bed where Storm had successfully occupied half of it. “Let’s go back to mom ’ s tomorrow,” Mary Jane muttered while her right hand petting the already slept Storm as her eyes shut closed.
Mary Jane woke up the next day with an extremely dry mouth. She could feel how uncomfortable her throat was when she gulped some saliva. Her nose was itchy and she noticed how thin and dry the oxygen that she breathed in. Nothing was wrong with the chemical particles of the oxygen. It was a rather friendly occasion of the side effects of the clonazepam that she took last night. Some cold shower and hot tea would be great. And so, she did. She hated the side effects that comes with the pills but they make her feel better so she learnt to grow comfortable with the effects. She stripped off her pajamas and head to her shower, twisting on the heater.
Feeling the warm water heating her head, then to her face, travelling its way to her slim slander body, Mary Jane did some mental notes on what to bring to her mom ’ s. Some might say the Covid-19 pandemic is a curse, which she agrees to but she cannot help but to think on how it is a blessing in disguise considering that she could take extra time to go home thanks to the workfrom-home implementation. Well, Mary Jane could be tone-deaf and ignorant sometimes of the situation. But that’s just how she is. After the shower and some quick packing, she set the timer for Storm’s automatic pet feeder. “Thank you, technology,” she said under her breath, not minding to say it louder as if there was the inventor of the automatic pet feeder in the room. Her 45 minutes driver to her mother’s was rather basic. She played some songs that she didn’t pay attention to. Her sight and touches were on the road but her mind was somewhere else. I might as well adopt another cat and live alone and die alone. At least my dead body would serve as snacks for my cats. That could be a purpose, she monologue in her head on the death of her social skills. She pulled the handbrake, took her bags and ring the bell. A lady in her 50s greeted her “Well, this is a surprise. To what do I owe it?” “I’m doing great, mom. Thanks for asking,” replied Mary Jane. She walked past her mom and made her way into her childhood home. A familiar scent greeted her. A scent where she would consider as home, 10 years ago, not now. “Jane, come here,” her mother called as she opened her arms wide welcoming Mary Jane in which Mary Jane accepted. “It didn’t work. Daniel hates me, ” Mary Jane broke the news softly in her mother ear. Her mother slowly stroke her hair and convinced her on how it is not her fault. Mary Jane shut out those words, she knew she was breaking Daniel because she was breaking herself too. “Is dad home?” she asked as she was releasing the hug. “He’s out. Should be home soon.
You want some lasagna?” Mary Jane nodded. Nothing is better than a home-cooked meal at this point. Growing up, there were Mary Jane, her parents and her older brother, Edward. It was small but enough. Her parents worked for the government before they retired. Mary Jane did not have a significant bonding with her parents growing up. She spent most of her years living in a boarding school and straight away building her career after a few successful and remarkable years in the college. She did enough to make her parents proud. But the deeds of making her parents proud were to only tamper the disappointments that Edward had done. Edward lived a short life. He didn’t lived through his early 20s. It was too traumatic for Mary Jane to recall but Edward died due to drug abuse. He had chosen the different path that the society has agree it as a wrong doing. But to Edward, it was the best decision he had ever made and he made sure to make a public note of it even in his deathbed. He lived short non-regretful life. Knowing about this when Mary Jane was 10 years old, she knew she had to mature up extra early and take the responsibility to be the child that every parents can brag about to other parents. In which she has been succeeding so far considering no one really remembered or commemorate to Edward anymore. But there has been one thing that Mary Jane’s parents are constantly disappointed about; her incapability to maintain a good social relationship and friendship with other people. This is especially applied to Mary Jane’s father. Not that did the mother did not mind, but she didn’t put the blame on Mary Jane for not being able to keep a guy or a friend. She constantly would say on how she was the reason behind this incapability of Mary Jane. Something that Mary Jane will soon find out what.
Mary Jane was with her parents in the living room watching ‘Modern Family’ on the television that night. They were letting out chuckles and giggles towards the sketches of the show. Phil Dunphy, one of the character from the show has been Mary Jane’s comfort character for the longest time. He was funny, responsible and a certified ‘Best Dad in The World’ kind of parent. At least, in Mary Jane’s world. All three of them were sharing some popcorns and some fruits as they laughed along together. This is a family routine that Mary Jane has always loved. Bonding through a television show as a family. Out of nowhere, Mary Jane popped out a question “Why do you never apologize, mom?” The controversial question was enough to make her parents withdrew from the show. “Let’s not do it tonight.” Mary Jane’s father tried to make whatever Mary Jane was starting. “I’m 23. We should do it tonight,” she backfired. “Because I did not do it, Jane,” her mother answered while shifting her gaze towards Mary Jane. “You need to stop denying it. I can still remember how traumatic it was as if it happened yesterday, mom. I just need you to acknowledge and apologize for it. That’s it,” she argued. “GODDAMIT, MARY JANE. I DID
DO IT,” she raised her voices in reply and stood up. Mary Jane was furious. She can feel how fast her blood rushed towards her brain and how hot her skin was getting. Her eyebrows furrowed and she clenched her jaw in anger. Mary Jane let out a disappointed sigh. “You did, mom. You forgot me and left me there. I just need you to remember that you left your daughter because you were too busy crying and drinking over your dead son. You fucking neglect me, mom, ” Mary Jane’s voice softens in disbelief towards the end of her sentence but enough to let her mother hear. Her mother heard it. Every word of it. But she didn’t respond to it like Mary Jane expected. This was not the first time she confronted her about it so she was not surprised of the silent treatment that her mother was giving. That was a signal for Mary Jane to leave the room and escaped to her bedroom, the only place she ever feel safe in the house.
NOT
Mary Jane put her hand on her head and closed her eyes, recalling back the traumatic experience that her mother gave.
“Where’s mommy?” I ask between my sobs. “She should be here by now, ” I can feel my chest tighten and my knees weakened. It is getting dark and I want to go home. I want my mummy. I raise my head from my knees and only think of one thing that I can do. A thing that I should do. And that is to walk home myself. I am not sure of how many hours have passed since the last school bell rang but this is getting scary.
I drag my already-tired legs along the stress and my face glows up a bit noticing the familiar place call home is in my view. I am almost there. I can feel adrenaline rushed and I ran towards my house. I twisted the knob and opened the door. A pungent strong smell goes up straight into my nose leaving a small strike of pain onto my brain. I go to the kitchen and found mom passing out with several bottles and cans of beer around her. Next to her is a picture of Edward, little Edward smiling innocently. There is my mother, caring over only for her son but not me, her daughter too.
Mary Jane eyes were full of tears as she was interrupted by a soft knocks on her door. It was her father. A figure that was emotionally absence throughout her life. An individual who only provide financially for Mary Jane but not emotionally. He was never there for her graduation and celebration, big or small. “You okay, Jane?” he broke the silence as he approached Mary Jane. “Other than the fact that my mom never apologized for her neglecting me, geez dad, I am fine,” Mary Jane answered while wiping away her tears and shifted into a sitting position.
Listen, Mary Jane. You are going to hate me for this but take this from another human to another human,” she rolled her eyes and scoffed upon hearing those sentences. “You need to learn to forgive someone without getting the apology that you needed,” still sobbing, she tried to open her mind and her heart to listen what her father had to say. “Your mother… couldn’t bear to relive that day that you called it as traumatic. It was traumatic for her too. She did neglect you but she erased those memories of her,” it shook Mary Jane’s entire world to learn about this. “So, mom has always knew but she is just too egoistic to apologize for it,” she replied with a ‘do you want to fight me?’ in which her father corrected “too traumatize,” Mary Jane let out another disbelief scoff and turned her head away from her dad, not wanting to look how inhumane and selfish he was. “What about my trauma, dad? You knew mom was the cause of this. She was in the core memory of my fear. She contributed to this low life I’m having,” Mary Jane bursted into tears while saying that. “But that trauma made you stronger, didn’t it?” “I am utterly disgusted with you right now. To the core, ” she said through her gritted teeth. “I don’t care if you hate me right now but you will thank me one day for having this conversation with you, ” Those were the last words that she heard from him before he left the room.
Mary Jane kept communication with the parents to as minimum as possible. She stayed there for another two days and left earlier than she supposed to. She could not bear living and breathing around the people who she used to look up to. The people where she’s supposed to be vulnerable to. The people who supposed to love her unconditionally. She hated every seconds of her time being around these people. Nevertheless, the love she had for her parents were still there. She still loved her. Never less. They were her indefinite kind of love. A type of love that she can never outgrow. The love that she had for her parents was unconditional though it was not the same for her parents. She could never understand why did the same love
does not reciprocated. And that is a question that will never be answered, at least, not in this life.
Mary Jane went back to her apartment in New York. Seeking solace and comfort from the unloving and living things in her house. She was rather sick and depressed for a few weeks before receiving a letter with her childhood home address on the envelope. And it reads:
My dear dear sweet Mary Jane,
It’s mom. I am just going to keep this short and forward. You know how I hate confrontation and dealing with emotions. You were right. I did neglect you the month your brother passed away. And I am saying this not to seek for sympathy but I was never born as a parent. There was no guidebook on how to be a perfect one. But one thing for sure, I love you. You are mine and will forever be. And so is Edward. I have love you both equally, dead or alive. And I will continue doing so until the day I die.
I apologize, Mary Jane, for hurting you, for neglecting you, for not putting you as my priority when I should have been. For causing you to have interpersonal problems and for never always been there for you. There should be no excuse on the neglecting and abandonment. There’s nothing more than I could utter than my apology for it. I am sorry for not being a good human, let alone a mother to you. And I am deeply sorry too for taking it long to finally make it up to you. But I promise. With the remaining life I have, I will continue to love you. And this home, will always be your home. I will greet whenever you ’ re in front of the door as always. After all, this is your home too. I love you, Jane, my daughter.
Much love, Mom.
Mary Jane tossed the letter aside after finish reading it. She was not ready to forgive her.
Though she has no reason to. The letter caused anger and betrayal. Throughout and along the month, she read it a few times. Trying and begging herself to forgive her. It took her long, but she finally did. Not for the sake of her mother but for the sake of her own peace. She realized that she cannot ponder about this for too long. It is eating her up and she hated it. So, she forgive. She forgive the love of her life.
POEMRECITAL ASSESSMENT
My life is a walking self-sabotaging machine, with no shut down button i can press on, nor a reset button for me to start over. my brain has a disgustingly beautiful way of making the impossible sounds possible, like this person hates me through the way they stare, or the way they say certain words, or even through the way they chew their food. I have a talent of skyrocketing my self-esteem, or convincing myself that I am an embodiment of ugly, that my acne scars can be spelled to the word vile, my love handles can be fed to the bear, and keep it stuffed through the winter, or that my bloated stomach is the reason that i should kill myself. My mind is an extremely good manipulator, an excellent mood shifter, it could see a cup of good ramen as a gym-calling alarm, or a stick of ice cream as another gain of 10 kilos.
SABOTAGE
But sometimes it is a great friend in need, it masked my sadness with a smile, hiding the pain behind my eyes, or compelling myself that i am okay when i am actually not okay. My life is a walking self-sabotaging machine, and i am getting tired of it, tired of taking care of this body, that refuses to take care of me back, the dreadful reason that i walk this earth, with a pathetic "handle with care " sign, hanging around my neck.
THANKYOU
Creative Writing class has given me opportunity to widen and go deeper into my passion towards writing. Every assessments and writing activities were a great practice for me to sharpen my writing skills both in poetry and short stories. I have gain a great amount knowledge when it comes to writing any literary piece. My utmost thank and gratitude goes to Sir Ariff for making the class as interesting as possible. I had a great time in class and looking forward to continue my passion on writing. Thank you, Sir for giving me motivation and further spark my love for writing.
