There’s A Girl
“I am going to make everything around me beautiful-that will be my life.”
-Elsie de Wolfe
There’s a girl who longs to be a force of nature. She speaks and writes and dreams up metaphors of things that are built to matter. Her greatest fear is that none of this will ever be enough. So she works harder. Stays up later. Asks questions until she has no voice. Writes as though time is out to get her. In her quest for all that is bright and beautiful, she has spent a fortune of words that never seem just right. She is looking for perfection in a world that does not contain the concept in its vocabulary, and thus the search goes on. She does not know if it is pride or fear or hope that pushes her forward, only that she will not stop. When she becomes all that she was born to be, she swears she will know.
There’s a girl who longs to be a thousand and one things because there are moments when being just a girl, just one little person, in this expansive cosmos feels as though it is not enough. She knows there is a place for all in the universe, but it is the great space inside her that baffles her so much that the only way to explain it is to compare it to something else. When she writes out this poem, she swears that she will unravel the doubts she has about herself and lay every card on the table.
There’s a girl who does not want to write about herself. She fears that the world will either find her boring or reject her. There’s a girl who is not nearly as together as she seems. There’s a girl who feels the weight of the world on her shoulders. There’s a girl who feels as though she cannot carry it all, but she will never say a word because she has a stubborn insistence of making it through, even if it kills her.
There’s also a girl who loves herself. She has worked hard to be where she is today and she does not regret it for a second. There’s a girl whose laughter is genuine and who has a smile that meets her eyes. There’s a girl who loves to learn, not because she feels she has to, but because she wants to know more about the brilliant chaos of our world. There’s a girl who would rather be happy than sad so she chooses to focus on the good, even if it means using a microscope. There’s a girl who dreams herself to be the night sky and an ocean and a hurricane not simply out of want to be something more, but because she knows that dreams have power. There’s a girl who never intends to stop talking or writing or choosing happiness as long as she is breathing, all in an attempt to search for some perfect form of better, or some better form of perfect. She knows this life is meant to be lived, and this is what makes the world come alive for her. When she opens her eyes and looks out at the dawn of possibility, she swears that nothing will weigh her down.
Me as a Writer
“I must be a mermaid. I have no fear of great depths and a great fear of shallow living.”
Though I have spent my entire life surrounded by books, it wasn’t until Sixth Grade that the thought of writing my own pieces of work occurred to me. I remember April sunshine that seemed to hold an infinity of promises and several other friends whose bright smiles and nodding heads said the same. Together we decided that we were going to be writers. After all, it couldn’t be that hard, could it? My most prominent memory of being that young was that the idea of ‘no’ was not in my vocabulary. I felt that every idea I had was original, every thought I had was genius, and that all my plans were foolproof. Such was the case of my friends as well it would seem, because that spring we all swore what we wrote would go down in history among the great names of Canadian Literature.
Without much planning or even a coherent plot in mind, we sat down and began to write. Or rather, we sat down and talked about all the ingenious ideas we had, feeding each-other’s egos and scratching down a word or too if we weren’t feeling too lazy. Despite this, we all thought we were at the heart of some sort of second coming of the Renaissance and that the world was sitting on pins and needles as it waited for our modern classics to be finished.
I digress; perhaps I am too harsh on my younger self. She was, after all, gloriously optimistic and feverishly passionate about writing, traits I like to think I still carry with me today. Most importantly though, since I picked up a pen and began to write what seems like a lifetime ago, I have not stopped. Writing has become a constant in my life; it is at the heart of who I am. The stories I wrote in middle school is a part of this too. While I was there, I managed to write two ‘books’: Ruins of Utopia and Vanishing Truths. Both works are extremely cliche and incredibly melodramatic, but nonetheless they are mine. Despite all their faults, I am still able to look at them with pride. They not only remind me of all that I am capable of, but how far I have come over the years. This growth is incredibly precious to me; as a writer I believe that to grow is in essence to create. I can track all my written accomplishments to that wide-eyed twelve-year-old who felt she was ready to change the world with what she had to say. This blog is made as an attempt of homage to my past, but also to my future as a writer as well. It is a blog rooted in the idea of tracking growth while also projecting my voice out to those who wish to listen. My sincerest hope to you as a reader is that you will enjoy the stories I have to tell and the words I have to say.
Hello! My name is Megan, and I’m a young Canadian writer who uses this blog as a platform for creative work. Often times I submit pieces on here for contest publication, so consider this a notice of transparency. All works and characters are entirely my own unless otherwise explicitly stated, in which case they are most likely emulations. However, the photographs are not. As such all credit goes to the sourced photographers.