Steal the Stars

My Name is Natalia, and this is my writing blog.

[nataliawrite-blog]

Driving for the first time on his own was exhilarating. Adrenaline raced through his veins faster than the car moved over the streets, and on the first chance he got he entered the highway. It was intoxicating how free he felt. He could go anywhere. It was way past midnight when he decided to stop for dinner. There was an open pizza restaurant near a gas station, on the outskirts of another town. He wasn't sure how far from home he was, but it didn't matter, he'd find his way back. A plumpy waitress with a friendly face took his order, and wondered what a 'young man his age was doing out so late by himself'. Tasting independency. The pizza arrived fast, and it smelled like heaven. He was about to eat his fourth slice when a girl came in and sat right in front of him, two tables away. She had bubble gum pink hair, bruised knees and elbows, and black mascara ran down her cheeks as she emptied her pockets on the table. She could hardly buy something to drink with what she had. And she seemed to be starving. He wasn't aware of himself as he took his drink and pizza and went over. When she saw him, her immediate reaction was the same you'd expect from an injured bird. He wasn't sure why he'd come up with that comparison. She froze, but didn't leave, so he pushed the dish closer to her. Half the pizza was still uneaten and she looked at it like it was made out of gold, then she looked at him. He smiled awkwardly, like saying 'It's okay', and she started eating. Slowly, at first, then as if she hadn't eaten in weeks. They ate in silence. The nice waitress got her a drink and she emptied it at once. When they were finished, they just sat there. She seemed to be looking for something to say, but nothing came out, so he gave it a try. "I'm James." "Sarah", she hesitated. "Thanks, James."

[nataliawrite-blog]

The streets of Denmark were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It astonished me how I had such a powerful feeling of belonging to a place I hadn't been to before. She was waiting for me inside the restaurant, craving a hot soup, a hot drink, a hot anything, but despite the cold all I wanted in the world was to find a pølsevogn and have my thousandth danish hot dog. My mouth melted at the thought of it and I could help myself no more. We arranged to meet again at Nyhavn.

[nataliawrite-blog]

I dropped the brush and put away the watercolours. Inspiration came and went like the ocean tide, and the kids outside wouldn't stop screaming. Downstairs the kettle was whistling, at last. I took out my favourite mug, it looked like a blue tree trunk, I made it when I was sixteen. Pouring in as much coffee as it could hold, I thought about the empty suitcase lying in my bed. If I excelled at one thing it was at procrastinating, but in my defense, I didn't want to visit my grandmother.

[nataliawrite-blog]

Alone in the kitchen at night, I become more aware of my surroundings. I like the sound of water boiling, it promises delights. The spearmint tea smells like home and my childhood, and the atmosphere here is gratifying. It allows me to dig deep within myself. I have always found that a better inner understanding gives you a wider and keener outsight to what's around you. A half empty glass is gathering ants; for such small beings they can be quite annoying. I watch them trail back home, and my eyes fall upon my mother's collection of weird little things we have gathered in our journeys. Through the glass sliding doors, I see our dogs playing outside with my brother. They look so excited to see him. He has his back turned toward me and he does a little dance, unaware of me. I wonder what's going on inside his mind, he has always been of the stranger kind, but I adore him for it. I tap my notebook with the back of my pen like I have seen so many writers do so in movies, and I can't remember if I copied the habit or if it just grew inside me. It feels good to be home, where I fit like all the pieces in a perfect puzzle.

[nataliawrite-blog]

Character Sketch #1

When he walked into a room it lit up. He was the happiest person I knew, the kindest. Everybody liked him. He talked to everybody, made us laugh, and had a nice thing to say at all times. With his usual relaxed appearance, sort of hippie-ish, and a grin on his face he would say hi to me whenever we walked past each other on the corridors, and it would make my day. The greatest thing about my sophomore year was having him, and others like him, sharing my classes. They were enlightened, artistic, wise, they had an unwavering sense of free will and always fought for the right cause, unfailingly. I admired them all profoundly, but I somehow had him pinned out as the leader, even if there was none. Leadership just seemed natural to him. He would talk and we would all listen attentively, he would have an idea to propose and it would be the greatest. He was just the most amazing person to be around.

[nataliawrite-blog]

He sat at a table by the window, the light was perfect there. The place was quiet and empty, except for a lady cleaning the coffee machine behind the counter. He liked the smell of that place, of coffee and books, and the peacefulness of it was great for concentrating. He had stumbled upon it on his way to work one day, and since then it became his safe place, where he could get lost inside his own mind. Across the street, a girl sat in her appartment, trying to write. Her flatmate was throwing a party, and the loud music and noise crept in from beneath the door. Every once in a while the door would open. 'Not the bathroom!', she would shout from her desk, without turning around, and the door would close again. Why on earth had she gotten the room with the faulty lock? She could leave, find some place nice to write, but she didn't trust to leave her room unlocked with these people. Who knew what might happen? She had to get a new lock, or a new room. Her flatmate was great, but this happened every week and it kept her from writing. She couldn't bear it anymore.

[nataliawrite-blog]

The radio cackled and splashed as the signal vanished. My car floated across the highway, while I switched my stereoon. I loved driving fast with trees delineating the edges of the road. They danced with the gushing wind, waving their branches. I've always entertained the idea that if they were people they'd have a love affair, the wind and the willows. My highway songs flooded the car, their melodies belonged to a background of green scenery, and a sense of freedom and traveling. And swiftly I was stolen away from the disaster of a monotonous routine, into a world of my own.

[nataliawrite-blog]

Anna was never going to believe her. Or trust her again, for that matter. So lying more just wouldn't help. And despite everything, she laughed. She had spent all her life building a wall of lies to protect herself from the disastrous feelings that now tore her insides apart, and it was that wall that finally destroyed her.

[nataliawrite-blog]

"The views and opinions expressed in the following program are those of the twisted mind of the authors, yours truly, and do necessarily reflect the official policy and position of our group…" Saoirse put on her headphones and started listening to the "Oracle of Delphi", an independent radio station, in which some girls discussed philosophy, literature, politics, and else in the search of a universal truth. It was actually very interesting listening to cultured people her age talk about things that mattered, and she liked that they had related it to greek mythology. Besides, she needed to keep herself distracted. Meeting new people was not her forte (why thank you, social anxiety), and aplying for college was really stressing her out. It wasn’t the kind of stress tv shows romanticized nowadays in teenage dramas, it was awful, disgusting, nearly-going-to-throw-up-because-I-just-can’t-handle-it-anymore stress, and she was on the verge of losing her mind. She also needed a job. Growing up wasn’t as fun as she thought it’d be. She hadn’t had any of the independecy and freedom to do what she wanted she had thought she’d have. Partly because her dad needed her, partly because she wasn’t really trying. That was an annoying thing to admit. She missed her mom, even though it had been years now. The bus came to a stop, and she got off. After walking around for a while, she entered a small boutique. She wasn’t looking for anything, just killing time, and the streets outside were getting crowded. She stood there in the entrance for a while, staring at her own reflection in a huge, floor to ceiling mirror: blue oxford shoes with white dots, grey tights, purple dress, white shirt, grey cardigan, black over coat, brown bag, pale skin, brown hair, blue beanie, dark eyes, and a thousand freckles. She checked everything. It was definitely her, but it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. Growing up was a strange thing indeed. She hung around in the store for a while -probably too long- and decided to buy a long, knitted scarf the colour of wine, before going back home. Being out made her uncomfortable but she had to get used to it if she wanted to be a “functional part of our society”. That’s how her aunt had phrased it, whatever it meant. Being at home when her aunt was there made her uncomfortable as well, so… Anyway, where did ‘disfunctional parts of our society’ ended up? Mental institutions? Burnt at the stake? As hermits in a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere? Quite frankly those sounded like fun alternatives, better than living a life of feeling out of place everywhere. The radio station was playing folk music now, she didn’t remember what they had talked about. During the walk home the streets were empty, which was a relief. Then she saw too many cars parked outside her house.