Late Night Musings

1:32 AM

The waves are crashing on the shore
In a manner that I cannot understand
I can feel myself no more
And the reins are absent from my hand

Where am I, who am I, which way
Do I have to go to find myself?
Why, when, and how
Will I acquire, the much needed help?

I do not need your sympathy
I do not need him, nor her!
I do not need questions, or riddles
All I need is an answer!

Help me, please, I'm terribly lost
And I don't know what to do
All I know is how to write
And to bring these pained words to you

The winds are far too strong
And my boat cannot stay afloat for too long
I have lost my compass, my map
And I don't know where I belong

I've tried so hard to make them understand
That answering and thinking of answers beforehand
Is not the same, they are different
Yet naked eyes think they are friends

If I shall answer honestly
Then it shall be the truth
But if I think of my answers before
It is all a lie that I shall never do

Please save me from this agonizing state
Of not knowing what to say
Take me out of this dark facade
And lead me to the way

This is probably the longest poem she's written in this book. She's written more, and the longest she's EVER written was probably, 23 stanzas, or something like that.

She sighs.

Can I be honest?

She doesn't know why she's asking if she can be honest. She can't even laugh right now, not that it was supposed to be a joke.

She's lost. Or rather, I'm lost.

It's been six years, six years of school. And yes, she knows what her strengths and her weaknesses are, but she doesn't know what to do next.

Everybody tells her, oh, you're too young for that kind of thinking, leave it to the adults.

She scoffs. It's not like the adults can tell her what she wants. She herself doesn't know what she wants.

She thinks. It's been six minutes, and she's struggling to figure out what she's going to write next.

See, this is one of the things she's worst at. She's always doing things that won't do anything to help her.

(She counts her books in her drafts.

Her eyes widen. She has 48, yes, forty eight stories in her drafts. She just..thinks of a plot, then writes it down, and when she needs it, she uses it.)

Writing books, especially fanfictions, will not help you succeed in life. That is the fact that she knows too well.

Sure, you can be an author, but not everyone walks into a bookstore looking for a Sope or Namjin fanfiction. But she likes it, so..?

Another thing she sucks at is relationships. Don't trust her to give out advice, because she's only had 1 relationship, and that one wasn't even a proper relationship.

She sighs.

She wants to give a little message to the kids who are crushing on someone right now;

She stares at you through the screen, a smile on her lips.

She waves.

"Hi, my name is Al, the girl who has something to tell you."

Instantly the smile falls from her face. What can we say, she's very unpredictable.

"If you have a crush, prevent it from being something more. Because you'll just get hurt."

She stares at the camera, a poker face was her token expression.

"Hate to break it to you, but statistics say only 15% of high school relationships work out. 5% on childhood friend relationships, while 79% of the adult relationships work out."

She frowns. "The 1% is for those little angsty teens who always post on multiple platforms the pictures of them in black hoodies, or a angsty selfie with the caption #foreveralone."

There. That's what she wants to say..

She rereads the whole chapter, and she feels ridiculed by her own writing. At first it was poems, then she started talking about how much of an insomniac she was, then now she was lecturing everyone about how they shouldn't fall in love at a young age.

Now, if you may excuse me, it's 2:00 AM and I wanted to wake up early tomorrow, so goodbye. I hope you liked the poem.

______________________________

Let me remind, yet again, that this is a real story. Goodbye.

Are you still here yet?

No?

Yes, of course you are.

Farewell.