Entry Two: Tomorrow's Hours, July 12th 2007

Tomorrow's Hours

Hey Me,

     Is the loneliness I feel meant to be substantial? Is my heart meant to be edged with red pain? Am I maent to walk the grey roads of life alone? 

     The days to come do not change. They do not shift but remain unwavering. I live a life from the outside looking in. I watch as life, in all of it's splender, passes me by. Why am I cursed to find myself my most loyal companion? 

     The joy's of my heart are not always there as they should be. Time spent is not that quickly given. Tomorrow's hours will be spent alone. Just as yesterday's were.

Laters,

     - ME

Entry One: Intro, July 7th 2007

Hello Again,

I am now twenty-five and on my way to becoming successful in many walks of life. I was reading back through my old journals the other day and had a realization. I started these journals when I was 18 and, as I look back, I wondered if my past anxieties, emotions or trials might help a new generation of dreamer get through what they are going through now. So going forward I am going to post the intimate details of my early life, the inception of my writing career and any other struggles I went though as a young adult. If my life touches even one person the intimacy of these posts will be worth it. So enjoy a look at me!

Journal Entry One July 7th 2007.

Hey Me,

I don't know why I'm writing this. I don't know if I even want to have a journal. It seems so personal putting words about me and my life on paper. It's not a book I'm writing, where I am free to be someone else. No this is me, only me, BORING!!! What will I write about me life? Nothing ever seems to happen. I'll only write about pain and annoyance I fear. It's sad but I will barely write about anything else. Happy feelings aren't near as easy to expel. I don't want to write about people or things around me. Simply the emotions I feel. Just the pain, hurt and love... No not love, not in that special way at least. Now jealousy, I could write about jealousy. Still I don't want to. That acing pain to be loved by someone still haunts me. The gap in my heart begging to be filled. What shall I do? Who Shall I meet? Will I fall in love? Only my Future entries will tell.

Laters,

    - Me

The wolf : poetry

The Wolf

Yellow eyes Peirce through

the darkness

of Night and Life.

Strong paws Hit

the ground

with Purpose and Stealth.

Spirit Calling Spirit

Primal and Instinctual.

Queen of the Forest

before me

a Vision, a Guide a Dream.

-Ashli Edwards

Journal entry number two

Today....
  
      Hello,
          My dreams... I've lost them. So I'm going back to the basics. I'm not going to focus on the fact that two novels need to be written as soon as possible. I'm not going to focus on the possibility of the money to travel and live the life I truly crave.... instead I am going to focus on re-igniting the love I used to have for the art of words, of pen to paper so to speak. No parameters, no goals. Just write whatever I can, whenever I can. Focus on the love of writing. Novels may yet be it but I have to stop feeling like I'm behind, stretched and pressured for all the wrong reasons. I know that the love and joy for writing is inside me somewhere, I just need to be gentle with it, like coaxing a wild animal out of it's hiding place. I need to whisper to the wild horse and wait for my dreams to "join up" when they are ready.  -AE

journal entry number one.

Several weeks ago....

     Hello,
         I woke up a few days ago, yet again missing the girl I used to be. Missing the passion I used to have, the drive. Once upon a time there was a girl who lived to write, now that same girl doesn't write to live like the story goes, oh no, she doesn't write at all. She's out of shape, out of practice and wants to scratch, fingers bleeding, her way back to the girl she left behind. She was younger and more naive, yes but her innocence gave the unrelenting ability to believe that all of her dreams would come true. With time and disappointment her strength wained, her joy faded and her dreams took a back seat to an unfortunate expanse of life and time.
                                                                                                    -AE

Mist of the Past

 Here is another short story from my archives.

                         The Mist of the Past. 

          Clair took a deep breath then five steps forward. Wow she couldn’t believe she was actually here. A cool fog had settled low on the ground. It was like a sad fairy tale. The mist of the past rising up from the green filed. She closed her eyes and watched that green field starting to flow with blood. She was standing on ground once paintedred by the blood of young boys. What a brutal misfortune for so many men. She opened her eyes and ran her hand along one of the cold white head stones. She looked down and read the word unknown on it.  His family never found out if he was alive or dead. They were never granted peace. 

          She left the headstone behind and walked farther down the hill. She could see it all. The cloud of smoke left behind after a gun was fired, the bodies falling as they were impacted by bullet or bayonet. She could hear the screams of the dying men, and the screams of the men thrusting their bayonets into the flesh of their brothers. She heard the clashing of bayonets and the boom from the guns. 

         Clair reached her hand out to a nearby tree for support. She was breathing heavily. She looked up through its big branches to the gray sky and tried to fight back the tears that welled in her eyes. This place filled her with the sad realization of war.

        “Clair, come on,” Clair’s thoughts were sent to an abrupt halt when she heard her best friends voice. She walked the rest of the way down the green hill and reached the pavement. She turned to look back at the solemn site. The white head stones glistened in under the gray sky, they were planted in ground that showed no ounce of the blood soaked into its soil. She smiled as the proud sadness settled in her heart and she whispered a prayer as she turned away from the Gettysburg National Cemetery.   

Harrison Paul Fidler

       Yesterday was a very hard day... it was the second anniversary of my friend, Harrison Paul  Fidler's death... well he was one of my closest friend's little brother's and is in almost every memory I have of that family up until that point. At fourteen this gift died of Bacterial Meningitis - the symptoms of a common cold gone bad.
        I woke up and tried to decide whether to go about my day and pretend that I didn't realize what day it was or to dwell on the memories of two years ago. I got dressed and prepared to go to my afternoon class... when my sister, who was also trying to decide how to feel, suggested that we skip class and go to the movies... This is what we did. I think it was the right choice, I'm not sure that sitting in a lecture would bode well with my mental state.
    Have you ever had the feeling that you are not where your body is? I have, it happened to me yesterday. I didn't really feel like I was watching myself but that I - my mind, my reality - was just gone, somewhere else completely.
     And last night I came home and put in a movie that I knew would help me put in perspective my emotions. I cried, it felt so could to cry. I just let the tears roll down my cheeks as I cried... I cried for the past and the present.