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Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m a terrible blogger. For the past few months I have struggled, opening a new document to compose a post and then staring at the blank screen with nothing coming to me. With each passing day, the time I had spent away only added to my writer’s block.

I suppose I can also blame my lack of blogging on a busy, busy summer, but that’s kind of a lousy excuse. I’ve had the blessing of watching my nephew while his mother works, and so when I could have been blogging, I many times chose to spend time with him. I’ve also been editing my book, reading over it and tweaking things to make sure that the story makes sense -I’ve got to say, it’s been exhausting. But that’s no excuse for letting my blogging lag. A new season is upon me, and I am vowing to get back into the game! When I first started writing on my blog, I remember experiencing the most acute writer’s block, and the only thing that could break it was to simply write in character. So here’s my attempt at getting back into character. 


She glared at the back of his head for the first time in months and felt the sun beat down on her bare back, taunting her. From this day forward, she would hate all sunny days, she was sure of it. 

She wished she could wipe his image from her mind, disassociate her very being from him, but she knew that it wouldn’t do. All it would take was a breath of a salty breeze or a moment when her ear caught that light clear chirping of the songbirds that she always seemed to hear when he was present. The world was full of signs of him, and they would forever be pointing her back to him. 

That she was in love with him was as clear to her as anything she had ever known. But people fell in love all the time, didn’t they? That didn’t mean that she needed to follow her ridiculous emotions -and emotion was all that it really was. They weren’t meant to be, that was clear. He was none of the things she had always hoped for, and he had known from childhood that he would never be tricked into love’s mirage, he was too intelligent for that

It was all so laughably impossible, the idea that they could ever be together. She had reminded herself that, and it was really all that had kept her away from him. She had erased him from her life, told him never to come to her again, all the while secretly wishing that he would follow her. She had refused to let him see her tears and had left with the vision of his eyes looking into hers lingering in her mind

But she now saw how foolish she was to think that love could be so simple. He had perennially stained her life with his presence, and no longer could she live without seeing tints of him everywhere she looked. She couldn’t stand the sight of the changing colors in autumn, so aware was she that he must be going on with his life along with the rest of nature. Like the leaves that had begun to die, surely his memories of her were prone to dwindling. She remained unchanged, her memories as clear as the day she had left. 

She had fought longer than she believed she was capable, but now the time had come when no more fight was left in her. She now admitted it wholeheartedly, he meant more to her than life itself, because whatever life was, he had come to define it. All that remained in her was the slightest resolve not to run to him outright. She prayed that she wouldn’t chance to see him, because she feared that then any slight resistance would disappear completely. 

Her prayers were in vain, however, because she did see him. He didn’t see her, which she was thankful for, but the experience was terrible nonetheless. The warmth of the day turned immediately to an inferno in the shock of his sudden presence. She couldn’t have prepared herself for the pain she felt seeing him there, the sunlight glinting off his hair, his eyes full of that smug laughter she knew so well. He looked untouchable, unscathed. It made her angry.

She sat watching him for a while, wondering how he could smile when he heart was so severed. He just sat there, reading one of his idiotic books on philosophy, enjoying his freedom. Suddenly, she didn’t know what was happening. It felt as if her body was out of her control, carrying her on feet that were not her own. She found herself walking straight toward him, propelled by an insane need to make herself known. She knew the exact moment when he became aware of her presence, because at that moment, every emotion melted from his face, leaving behind only a tortured vulnerability that made her draw back slightly. Gone was the self-satisfied, proud expression his face usually held. His hands clenched into fists, his breathing quickened.

She worked to ignore the change in him. Months of pent up heartbreak melted together in her brain and transformed into a rage she had never before felt. “I hate you.” She said, her voice uneven, her outstretched finger pointing at him in accusation. “I hate every last fiber of you. I could’ve shown you something that you could never learned of or read about. I could’ve given you something you have never dreamed of: love. You can’t philosophize love, Alexander. You have these lofty ideas that you’re somehow better than the rest of the world because you’re above experiencing feelings. You think that it’ll free you to go out and see all that the world has to offer, but you’re wrong.” She wiped a tear from her eye and cleared her throat. “You can see everything in the world, but if you don’t experience love, I pity you.” She turned to go and was stopped when she felt his hand reach out and touch her fingers. She jerked them away savagely and looked down on his where he sat. She was taken aback when she saw a small tear puddling in the corner of his eye.