BLOOM

"Those who tell stories rule the world," -Unknown

Unless you live under a rock, you probably know about Bloom, the climax of all art and writing at WCHS. 

Last night was this amazing event, and not only did I get to know better my fellow artists, writers, and musicians, I had some amazing experiences with amazing people. I will share my pieces that were accepted.

For now, look at some amazing pictures of members of the Creative Writing Club who got into Bloom!

Sloan with "Hi"

April with "The Girl and The Stream"

Matt with "Change" 

Grace with "Lights Up" 

Sarai with "For the 50th Time this Month" 

Copyright 2016, Olivia J

Dear you,

I breathe in, my face basking in the cool, spring chill.

It's been one year, but I still see you.  I see you everywhere.

Because when I close my eyes hard enough, I can still see you so clearly.  I can see right into your eyes: clear and blue and locked on me.  I remember the things we said on that night.  Evanescent words weaved in the night, of silver emotion and gold passion.

I see you in the creaking of these old, wooden doors. I feel you in the taste of sugary drinks on my lips.  I hear you in the melodic songs we danced to in the endless night. I see you in the limitless starry sky, on the tables we sat on and talked for hours.  I see you as a ghost on the stairs, trying to balance his weight on the narrow steps, smiling at me.  I see you standing in the grass, over me, as I stared up at the stars that night and dreamed.  And, if I focus hard enough, I can feel your jacket wrapped around me in that cold, spring night.

~

I remember everything, and still, I grasp onto these threads, not knowing whether they will lead to a spool.  I remember what little we had.  I remember what we could have had.  I wouldn't trade our time together for anything. Yet, it all still hangs bittersweet on my lips.

Like most things, it all ended as fast as it had begun: our love was a match - hot and raging and all consuming. And now you're gone, and all that remains is the memories, fleeting and wispy like ribbons tied to my head. As I age and the people surrounding your life decay into earth, those ribbons will detach, and float away forever.

I sit down in that special place, feeling the sag of the old, wooden bench. As deep summer melts to fall, the trees are bare, and the flush of life on earth is at it's end.

And so were you.

What I regret most is that I missed it.  I missed what it was all really about. Because all it was really about was love. Something so simple, yet so deep.  So universal, yet so fleeting.

But it was not the love that we felt, that left our souls high and our skin buzzing. But the love that we are, which is not only what we do, but what makes up the very vivacity of each cell in our bodies.

And I wish with all my still-beating heart that you could know all of these things - I wish that love would have blossomed within you.  I wish I could change the past, reach my weathered fingers back and tinker with the strings of time. I wish that you could possibly know, and know all of the potential that you had, that we had, has been tossed to the wind like chaff, carried to the far ends of the earth.  But please know, wherever you are and whatever may come of this life, that it was not all in vain.

Love,

Me.

And my art that was accepted:  

*crappy picture, I know* 

Lioness in Oil Pastel

As well as the T-shirts, designed by me: 

*A+ with those crappy pictures, Olivia*
In Bloom, originally in Pen and Ink

But truly, it's amazing events like these that remind me that this is what I'm supposed to be doing. Even through the aching feet and the long hours and the laborious work, it's all worth it. 

~The WordShaker