Without Rhyme Nor Reason


I fell in love

With you,

A man I had never met.

Dark and dangerous,

Full of secrets–

Countless things that pulled me close.

You loved me,

A younger girl,

With a mind as broken

As her heart.

I fell in love–

How broken I was!

How fearful, how lonely.

How could you be

So patient with me?



Pulled away,

Couldn’t fight it–

But couldn’t stay.

I fled,

Eyes closed shut

And a mind


To admit it.


I ran away,

Wishing you

Would chase me–

But instead, you



You knew

I would come back.


You stayed there, waiting.

You watched me

Weep, and grow.

You shaped me into

A healthier love

For you.

You let me grow,

Giving me a place

Where I

Can be safe.


Without rhyme, nor reason–

You stayed

With me.


A Writer in Winter: A Short Story


It was beyond cold tonight, and I could see my breath in the air. Still, I perched by the railing of the balcony, leaning out over empty space–and gazing at cars that glimmered like stars on the night-sky pavement below. It felt good to stare down at the depths, and know that the notebook I clutched in my hand had kept me from leaping to the ground below.

My fingers ached, but I knew they’d be fine–what with sleeping with the brace tonight, and doing some small exercises with my hands, I should have no problems come tomorrow. Of course, then I’d just repeat absolutely everything.

I sighed a tiny bit. My poor hands….

But then, I found myself smiling. I was doing what I loved, and it was all I wanted.

Of course, tomorrow, I’d be back at the Archives–caring for, handling, and researching all these lovely old books. I’d spend my days with people who cared about knowledge–and even get plenty of time alone to myself.

Time alone I’d use to write, of course. Maybe I’d even do some of the copywriting pieces I was meaning to do?

I thought back to my teenage years–young, terrified. Unsure of what to do, or how to handle the crazed mind I was born with. The blogs that would offer some control, and some recognition–some faith that I wasn’t alone in the world. I thought about the people I loved, and allowed myself a tiny smile–I’d beaten all of them, and outdistanced my dreams.

I was happier now than I ever thought I could be–secure in myself for the first time, and knew I was amazing. I was glowing with health–swimming, biking, and a healthy diet kept me in the shape I wanted to be. I, naturally, never went down to a size small–while most people wanted to be thin, I liked being a healthy amount of curvy. My hair was, of course, a solid black and cut in a ragged way–just as ragged as my emotions no longer were.

I was a writer now, and I was happy.


Note from the Half-Mad Writer–this story is a dream of mine. This is the kind of place I want to find myself in when I’m older: Happy, and not just content, with myself and what I had managed to accomplish.

I’m happy, world, with who I am.

And who I will be.

Hope for the Future


It felt unattainable,

A distant dream.

A goal in mind, with no clue

How to get from A to B–

Much less from B to C.

I thought I’d be content with

Gaming and TV all summer–

But now it turns out

I want something

Much more

For myself.

I want to lose weight,

Learn and grow.

I want to get better,

Get older,

And find something to do

With my life.

I want to feel far better

Than I am now.

I want to swim every day,

I want to run,

I want to play.

I want to do something with my life.

For once, for once–

I know I’m going somewhere,

And it’s somewhere



It Hurts the Most


It hurts the most,

Before it gets better.

It hurts the most

But then it improves.


It hurts the most

When you start to smile,

And hurts the least

When you start to cry.


It hurts the most

When I realize I’m bitter,

And hurts a lot less

When I realize I’m better.


Hurt I am,

But better I will be.

Broken I am,

But stronger I will be.


It hurts the most,

But that’s the weakness dying.

That’s the part of you that still feels

Burning up inside.


It hurts the most,

But then you can smile–

It hurts so much less,

When you smile; while others cry.


When others cry,

It’s okay to be strong

And comfort them.

It’s okay to admit it doesn’t hurt at all.