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Hi my name is Grace and I like to read, write + fashion/graphic design and I abhor veggies + twitbuggers. I'm from EPPS/SHPS/NYGH/ISB (yes, I know, extensive) and I take Spanish as a third language! I really love Broadway *and* Taylor Swift. And random stuff like the soundtrack of the movie Once.

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there's no point trying to stop it

March 2009 April 2009 May 2009 June 2009

I'll come running

This blogskin was created by vaguely- (me!).
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How does it feel like, to know you’d met the love of your life but turned him away?

I had always pondered that question, when I was young and naïve and knew nothing about love. In my teenage years I had thought that one would be foolish to turn love away, especially when true love is so rare and so special. But I was twenty when I found out how it felt like. I was twenty and he was reaching thirty –twenty-seven, to be exact. Not only was there a brilliant age gap- there was somebody else. Someone who’d been the love of his life, and it was his life that mattered- not mine.

At least that’s what I’d thought she was, I reflected, as I stopped the car along the road. I’d taken the car because I needed some time alone to think. I remembered the bus ride home, so many years ago. I had needed something crowded and noisy to distract me from my convoluted train of thoughts. An aeroplane’s hygiene and good service would have been welcome, but I was in a rush and no flight could have been available at such short notice. In any case, I welcomed the bus’s million passengers and their chatter with open arms. For half a day I was occupied with eavesdropping, bits of other people’s lives distracting me from mine.

How was my life then? It was a mess. I’d been expected to stay out in that remote eco-village “in the middle of nowhere”, as I’d called it, for six whole months, studying the villagers’ sustainable lifestyle for an article. Little had I known that I would come back two months early, with more of a Nicholas Sparks novel than an inspirational report to send to Reader’s Digest. And when I did finish writing my report it lacked the good quality I promised. Even the editor, whom I had never met, knew something was up.

It was she who had told me to take a break from my career as a freelance journalist. It’s been almost five years and I still can’t think of anything to write. They say you should only write about the things you know, and what do I know?

I only know of tragedy- of a love that I had, that I have, that I lost. This is my attempt to put that loss to paper.

so how? TAG PLEASE AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK.

Labels: Nora Kensington

I'll come running,