Tag Archives: creative writing

Aside

Mum has decided to spend the entire day on the patio. I get her set up in the lounge chair, with a pillow behind her head, and a lap robe to keep her from becoming chilled. Her lunch is on … Continue reading

Gallery

Keep your shoes on.

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I can’t remember it, but I believe it. Mrs. Bonfonti had been trying to convince me to put my shoes back on for several days. Every time I would come into her class, I would be wearing two shoes. But … Continue reading

Gallery

Childhood

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    We started a movie last night. As the first scene opened, I turned to Tim and said: Just remember, this is part of my childhood. By which I meant: This may be a stupid movie, but you better either … Continue reading

Or am I

Emily Marucci

I am not who you think I am. Or am I?

A constant struggle with self.

Sometimes I feel like I am the only one with a shipwrecked heart amongst a sea of people that don’t allow themselves to feel deeply enough.

I am fucking sensitive. But I’d rather feel and be misunderstood than be a shadow or glimpse of my true being.

When I feel like an unsubstantial street pin in the big city of lost souls, I remind myself who I am by thinking of things I believe in.

I believe bob dylan couldn’t sing, and that it’s possible I can’t write.

I believe things always change for the better.

I believe life is not to live in longing.

I believe in walking through the streets and pretending they are empty.

I believe in wondering “if it was really in my head.”

I believe in wisdom in old people.

I believe in losing myself for a few minutes a day.

I believe in watching my tears disappear in my hands within moments.

I believe in being fearless for the fall of love.

I believe in never painting my darkness golden.

I believe in never erasing my wrong words–i would be left silent.

I believe in fear.

I believe in collecting scars.

I believe that technology can sometimes create clouds around our beings that multiply into memories that we can no longer see.

I believe. Complex conquers simplicity.

Constantly wondering .. If you really knew me.

Am I dysfunctional? I sure hope I am.

-By Emily Marucci.

Aside

The days pass slowly, and I am operating on auto-pilot….getting Mum up every morning, moving her to and from the wheel chair, preparing meals that sit, barely touched on the plate, until she asks that they be put in the … Continue reading

A Monologue of My Feet

Horizon, by Tomatoskin, Flickr

I give you a kiss, and I run in the opposite direction. It’s no offense to you; really. It’s my gut, telling me to run away. Well, running is what we should all do. Run toward what we love. Let nothing hold us back. And when it does hold us back? Get strong, and run from it. Eventually.

Bags packed. Smile on my face. Tears streaming down my cheeks. OH, I can’t help it. Goodbyes are not easy (to perform without crying). Goodbyes aren’t hard when you need them. But goodbyes with no tears? Not possible.

Eyes on the horizon. That line, speaking only of the possibilities that are unknown to me. That’s all that’s possible. In that moment. Are the unknowns. And that’s totally enough.

I love you all. And as I run away from you all, I think about how you’ll be okay. That we all go in our own directions sometimes. That running is all we can do. That running IS the answer. Staying? Staying kills. Run toward what you love.

You ran, right? Now, it’s my turn.
-me

Gallery

Charlie and I

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Charlie and I met through my sister Abby and her sister Dakota. It was 1987: Kindergarten. Abby came home with a new best friend. They glowed together; inseparable, tiny humans. Who knows how they met? A shared laugh, maybe? A … Continue reading