A Dimes Worth of Sanity from the Dreamers Reality

CANVAS

This wicked spinning wheel plays all the same old songs.

Tired of yesterday and everything that’s wrong.

For months now I’ve been trying to make its tired rolling stop

I can’t control the timing of the truths that will been unlocked

Like the humble bird of earth spread the seeds of trees

My black heart is the blood of which my blue soul feeds

INK.

- Jessie

This is a pre-view of my children’s story/small chapter book I finally finished. There is a lot of editing to be done but I could not wait to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy………

The Curse of the Human Heart

BY: Jessica Sharp

Once upon a time, far far away, there existed a princess whose heart was made of fire and water. She ruled the land that rested between the ocean of fear and the volcano of desire. For it was known across the land that at birth the princess was blessed with a very special gift, an eye that could read through any soul. For it was also known across the land that every gift came with a burden and so she was burdened at birth with a heart that could feel the pain of one thousand dying solders.

One dark and cold night the princess could not sleep, for a spark in her heart kept her eyes wide awake. After countless hours she finally rose from her bed of lily’s and sang praises to the stars. “Oh lights above this midnight sky” the princess sang as she danced around a garden of jasmine roses “I cannot sleep tonight. For the wind is cold and my eyes are wide please won’t you hear my lullaby and send me off to rest tonight”. As the melody parted from the princess’s lips and flew away with the wind, a sudden ach in the princess’s heart stabbed her sharply. She collapsed down to the ground and cursed the skies. “oh sky!” she raged “with your moon so high, I will no longer sing to you at night and so your darkness will be filled silence, my voice has died”. The burst of anger drained the princess of all her energy so she fell upon her lily bed and went into a deep sleep. All the while the princess’s lullaby and tempered cry’s traveled across the sleeping land into the ear of the witch who ruled the volcano of desire. The witch was crafty and gifted with an intuitive spirit. She could sense weakness in the princess’s heart and so the witch brewed up a plan that would break the aching heart of the princess…………….

more to come later..

I’m thinking about writing a children’s book. I know what you’re thinking, a depressed girl like me can’t possibly write a children’s book that’s age appropriate. The thing is, I love children’s books!!! So I’m going to write and illustrate one.

I am sitting here bored to tears as my unanswered problems linger right in front of me. There is emptiness in my heart and I’m not sure how to fill it. This story seems to be my early twenty’s ever after…  

I am all tangled up in the one I love. Our worlds seem to clash but I so readily put down mine in the name of love while he so eagerly lifts his up in the name of living. For him living is not loving its achieving greatness and as for me, living for love holds my endurance strong while I struggle to climb up his steep mountain. I have been climbing for two years now and all the collection of close slips leaves me about ready to jump off. The problem is no one will be there to catch me when I fall. I have left my safety unit behind in the name of love you see, all I will have left is me and I’m not sure my legs are strong enough to break the fall.We have trapped ourselfs on the highest peaks of this mountain so outside the world him and I have created together, alone, I’m not sure I could function in reality. At twenty one I know I am too young for this but I love him so deeply. This mountain will erupt soon, I can smell the lava boiling but before it does I need to make sure I can get back down to the river, the place where I came from.

“One of the troubles about vanity is that it grows with what it feeds on. The more you are talked about, the more you will wish to be talked about”

- B. Russle

I wish I had a bucket of hot water to give to all the plastic people I see and regrettable know or know of I should say. These people make my cool blood boil, for obvious reasons and yet I find it so hard to explain. I look at them in sadness, in jealousy, in defeated. I look right through the shield of makeup, avoiding the sharp cut of the acrylic claw, searching for something deeper. Maybe I am just mad at the fact they love who they are, basking in all their fake glory while I am drowning in this authentic misery. I feel so backward for making judgments on these people based on what comes through my filter, it’s just the the vibe of vanity I don’t feel comfortable with. I see people wasting away in the mirror, conforming to Americas upside down ideals of beauty for acceptance when there are easier ways to gain a much more beautiful reflection.

 justjess looking at reflections