A Loner's Weep

I buried my cat seven years ago together with that carefree kid. Since then, it became a mannerism to take a peek at our backyard where the graveyard can be seen. I have witnessed several times the ground prickled from heat and dampened from rain as well with the growth of grasses and trees. In those moments it seems everything was right and seasonal except for me. I remained dying, empty, and a lost cause. Maybe it was because I buried my carefree persona at an early age instead of enjoying the remaining years of my childhood, or maybe I woke up too early to the world. Nonetheless, the only thing I was sure of was everything is just starting. The storm and the chaos have yet to come.

You will learn to talk to the universe once no one talks to you. Once loneliness creeps in, a different and desperate thirst creeps out. You will start hearing things, start seeing things move, or start understanding what lies beneath the simplest up to the complexity of them.

Cliché if you may think but this is how a loner’s world revolves. Believe it or not, I talk to the moon and stars above. Because the relativity keeps me closer to them, the darkness they are in is the same shade I am at. I talk to the trees and the flowers swaying gracefully on our field, aren’t we all things? Because I see myself and the freedom they have. I am a part of nature, growing, and the belief that I will soon bloom in my reverie makes me ache what they have and question the universe when could I have that.

I am a wanderer perhaps, but a little different from then. When the storm raged my being that was when I started to talk to the infinite. Impossible is an understatement, I knew that moment that I loved learning, adapted to being alone, and who would have thought that understanding could be the greatest thing I would account to have?

I am a rebirth of my success, my failure, and my yesterdays. I have different personas that differ from what I do. It could be a painter in Paris, a sculpture in Greece, a demi-god, a wizard, the greatest astronomer ever lived, a poetess, an author dreaming for a book signing, a musician in LA, a dancer in New York, a lead character from a book I am currently reading, a student in my favorite city, a daughter, or just a lost soul in a messy room waiting for her doom.

Writing became a holy grail, a comfort to my sick mind, my diary, and my only best friend. It molded me into someone I would never be ashamed of. Once lost is now found. The kid I buried has flowers now on her skeleton. The freedom I sought came to me willingly. Because we are all things, I grew and bloomed and will continue to. For I am Renesmee Neverfound, I am a rebirth of my lost thoughts coming to life again and again. Arouse from ruins and ashes. Close to death and a universe’s friend. This is a braver rebellion of resurrected ruins from the graveyard of poesies I carry under my tongue.

Renésmee Neverfound ㅤ

_{An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am Hive account@rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. And my face-claim here is Hive account@gabi_wahl on ig. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing this.
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special thanks to Hive account@tpkidkai
images retrieved from Hive account@gabi_wahl on instagram:
🔗https://­www.instagram.com/p/­CWn1LIdMh7T/­}