Hi!
Most call me Stan. I am currently a Senior in Aerospace Engineering, but writing is what I love to do when I’m alone or whenever a sudden epiphany occurs.
I’ve written an allegory, but I will not post it here. It’s around 80 pages. I have also started writing another completely different story that should be more… reader friendly. I don’t think the allegory is good enough for people to want to read it. OR maybe I think that just how it’s written and what it is about seem to be things that people don’t tend to speak about or like much nowadays.
Anyway…
I call myself hopelessly romantic. I’m a guy that thinks about love (falling in it… being in it) a lot and never have experienced it. I don’t think one-sided feelings count. I’m kind of like an epitome of purity with regards to dudes… almost. It’s not that woman don’t like me. I guess I’m very closed off and am tired of showing my feelings so I can just be shut down again.
I love writing because it keeps me going and I wouldn’t be able to write if I didn’t have my loneliness. I don’t really want people that I know to know that I’m writing something because then they have to keep asking what I’m writing and I’d rather just finish it and then BLAM posted.
Because of my hopeless romanticness (new word).... pretty much everything you read from me will have to do with love or a woman or two that I’ve failed to leave the friend zone with. It would seem that every girl I liked in the past moved… even if we were dating and there were no problems between us… Sadness or Irony? But that was all back in high school and I’m far beyond that now. Currently, I’m needing to find my raison d’etre. I’m indifferent to life and death and I’d like to really want to have something to live for.
S Burns is a member of Aeronautics & Aviation, All Things Poetic, Artistic, Philosophical, Love & Romance , Pulp Noir and WMG.
The prevailing occasion, standing naked in rain. / That chill…
”...A prayer… a penultimate evil… understand? The most devilish prayer of a most devout follower! Ah HAHA!”...
..Some of you may not quite realize that ‘living’ in the sense of me, with retrospect to assuming I know life just because my body and mind act and react, is similar…
The emptiness that dwells within me hurts my chest, / The depression swells. / Doubtful ressession is my painful expression. / The mask that hides my tears, / It exposes my pain and feeds my fears. …
“God… Grant me a wish that I’ll remember. / Give me a sign by kind September…”
Such beauty is the scorn of sorrow, / a site that very few adorn. / A fickle one but bound to borrow, / beauty that is sorrow’s scorn.