Compass To My Heart (Wattys2015)

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Compass to my Heart © 2015 by Cosette

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Thank you.

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A/N: As stated in this piece's description, this is not intended to be a collection of one shots or short stories or a full short story. It's just a mere collection of fragmented thoughts and ideas— a small experiment. You may call it a collection of poetry and flash fiction, sure, but you can most certainly not call it a collection of one shots. As it is, there's no connection between its parts, since they're all written independently.

I wish you all happy reading, and don't forget to comment and vote (if you liked it) on each part. I'd love to hear your thoughts on my writing.

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"What are you doing?" Concern echoed in his voice, as he continued to stare at the girl in front of him.

"Writing." Simple words that carried no solid explanation shot from her lips, leaving a sweet strain on his eardrum.

"No, I mean..."

"Oh, but I totally know what you mean." She cut him off, leaving no room for a pause, as she continued on with her explanation. "You mean to ask why do I keep on tainting this beautiful pure white paper with my nonsense. Why do I keep torturing it with so many random words that make absolutely no sense? Why do I keep on hurting it with the tip of my pen everytime I decide that what I put down is not good enough? Why do I love to hear this paper's constant cries every single minute I carve such filthy words onto its frail body? Why do I frown with every single curve the pen takes? Well, I'm mad, that's why. Its suffering helps me calm down. Oh, yes, I'm a hypocrite dwelling on others' anguish. Even if the subject is a mere piece of paper the pureness of which I continue to stain with every piece of word I throw out there. And yet... I regret it every single time I do it. I keep on telling myself that it's wrong, that no-one actually deserves to be in any kind of pain— be it a simple inanimate object such as this piece of paper you see right here. But the truth is— if I don't let words dirty the paper, my soul will swim in tears forever. Even though no-one actually sees. So this is, I guess, my sweet escape. To paint pain on a paper."