“I Write as I Read” Fiction. Based on a True All-Nighter for Reading.

“Well–it’s like a physical pain now. Where my heart physically is. Just like, it hurts sometimes. It’s weird. It’s like an actual pain.” -Kera Armendariz

“I Write as I Read”

Fiction. Based on a True All-Nighter for Reading.

By Willow

This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

I’ve stood too long in the light, my clothes faded to white, hair bleached with blonde that was once a rich red.

On the surface I can’t tell good from evil.
Some say it’s a glint in the eyes or the way a smile twists into formation.
But there’s something about the darkness that draws me near.
Life had its way, rocked me to sleep in a city constantly daydreaming.
There are books on the nightstand –
some rustic, brown, leather-bound, and others more modern dark tones.
They’re faces meant to complement, not be held alone.
Well, fuck, I haven’t read them all.
I’m supposed to love you for who you are, how should I know?
From a picture I get almost nothing.
Tell me the thoughts in your head and I’ll listen clearly
because I write as I read.

I’ll write you a story to help you find yourself again.

I’m just a woman in a world where women judge women.
Times alone I like to think the beginning is the Northern light
calling me home to a lover
who I call to, “please be naked for me.”
I think it’s the way we feel at the start –
first page, prologue, page 1 –
so sad it drains me of confidence until I’m drained of water,
none left in the inkwell of my mind.
I know I love you as much as I love metaphors and hate similes.
There I go again.
The bedtime story is of a woman who is just like me but loathed.
For crying out loud, no, that doesn’t put me to rest, only to sleep.
I stopped writing while reading.

Every few nights I dream of what it is like to be your own person. There’s something mystical of simply being me.

The pages move so swiftly my lovely love during nighttime.
I feel the moon smiling down at us sitting here,
it’s dark and dark is better.
Life had its way, moment after moment
from time to time.
This story has a sweeping quality; I’m lost in those pages.
I’ll follow you, got my favourite black nail polish
and rings that complement my finger tattoos
she hates.
I’m trapped in Pisces yearning for my cold
I lost value in all my thoughts. Here I want yours
so I don’t have to be in me, falling in love in you,
with you.

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