I believed if time pass, I will forget her. If I run away from her, I believed other people will fill my heart. I still remember her even now. She was quiet and introvert person. The regrets that I have for my weakness are killing me. I can’t forgive myself who ran away from the person that made my heart beat fast. I was bold enough to praise her beautiful face and I was proud of myself that I smoothly approached to her although I was drunk. It was the first time I was so drunk. The smirk I saw from people for my action when I praised her haircut gave me weird satisfaction. Her shy smile made me look inside of me who still don’t know what love is. I sometimes think of her in the day like I’m drunk. I wish I could see her shy smile again.
I’ve got this strange feeling. I can’t ignore it. This must be the memory from my past life. I’m missing somebody. I’m caring somebody so much. It came to me when nothing is going on in my life. I can’t recall the dream when I wake up. I lose too much fragments. How do I know this feeling when I don’t feel this at all in reality? I’m trying my best to remember it. This is important to me. Who is this I am missing? I am afraid of forgetting this person but it won’t be forgotten. This love has been with me for a long long time. It must be love of my life. I can only meet them in a dream. It’s because it is in a dream. Maybe it’s because I miss them so much. I keep thinking of them.
Hi. How are you doing? I graduated army basic training and advanced individual training few weeks ago. Each was 9 weeks. It sucked. I was always sleepy and tired with so much stress. I will never go back.
When I was in field training in basic training, I read the scribbling from public field latrine. It said, the basic training worths going through one time in a life. That remained in my head, so I just endured it and finally met the end. It is hard time that I don’t even wanna remember anymore.
When I look back my writings of 8 momths, it’s obvious that I was in a sadness for a long time. It’s the sadness about love. I was soaked into my world. I loved inside my world. I loved the women there. I made up a lot of women based on the past memory. It seems the built world has some sort of sadness as well as hapiness. The sad part was always sweet although it starts to hurt when it exceed the certain point. I wasn’t brave enough to open my heart to real people and girls. As I meet more people, I get to know the real girls too. I noticed the girls have thier own worlds. I knew they have it but I truly felt it this time. Their worlds are much stronger than mine. It’s more defensive. It’s surrounded by the thick and high walls. I peeked through the wall crack. It feels more sad than mine although both basic structures are different. It may be because they feel more anxiety and fear.
My sadness doesn’t feel that big compare to them. It feels as if I just have to suck it up. I don’t have much experience with the girls. Those girls I was with used to swim in my head with sorrow. Nowadays, I don’t want to jump into that water to swim with them anymore. Where am I thinking now? I wonder what I wished for and why I struggled by missing and wishing them.
I’m changing little by little. I learn those lessons slow which most people learn them naturally and quickly. Now I have works to do. I will write some more poems probably. I hope it is healthier than what I used to write. Maybe it is less sad than before.
Hi. I’m Feelimn Hunter. My name is Ray. I’m taking a break from posting emotional scenes because I’m going to army basic training in July 31st. In fact, I was supposed to go to basic training 2 years ago, but army enhanced background investigation so my ship date has been delayed until now. I will not talk about my situation specifically because it’s quite complicated story. The time has finally come to me. There won’t be a new post from me for a while. I have been posting feelings, emotions, and scenes almost everyday for around 8 months. It was usually one post per day. While I was waiting for my army investigation to be over for 2 years, I spent first one year thinking and making my first art website. You can visit here feelimn. Then, I decided to write subjects for painters which turned out as emotional scenes that I’ve been writing everyday in here WordPress blog. Therefore, emotional scenes were my posts. But soon I became skeptical.
You can read here how my thoughts on feelimn art website changed. The idea of categorizing basic emotions of Joy, Sadness, Fear, Anger, Disgust, Surprise, Circumstantial, and A blend of 2 or more was not convincing to artists. As I keep writing emotional scenes in my mind, I found that I was expecting too much from artists. Making a playground for artists was my vague goal. It was frustrating to realize that I was having a vain purpose. However, I did not stop writing emotional scenes since then. It was fun to create images with words. I started to like writing them. They consist of my imaginations, experiences, dreams, and wishful thoughts of fantasy. Finding a certain emotion gave me a huge pleasure although some could be seen important to only my eyes. At first, they were just 1 or 2 sentences. For example, it was like she is saying, “I believe your love won’t leave me. You are not lying to me.” I thought this would be something any man would want to hear from his girl, which I actually wanted to hear from a girl seeing her sincere face. I was desperate for love. I promised to myself that I will write one scene per day. I mostly kept the promise. Recently, I could not keep my promise because it was hard to focus on describing emotions due to my concern of entering basic training.
I prefer simple, honest, and direct writings than symbols and metaphors. They are relatable and understandable, so I simply used he and she as subject. It is something readers can relate them to their lives. It’s because I wanted real and raw feelings that we easily encounter. Even though it looks timid, it should be realistic. My style is usually male first-person narrator’s point of view and sometimes omniscient point of view. My scenes are little bit far from poem. I like writing sadness. I love when there is sad vibe in the scene. Thus, it is usually conclusive. It feels more genuine to me. Each post has different short story. I didn’t mean to write about love a lot, but I found that my writings were usually about love. There are also other scenes that are not about love though. When some ideas come to my head, I judge them if it’s worth writing at least one sentence. I’m sure most of my posts’ emotional scenes I caught are worth feeling actively imagining facial expressions that stimulate our feelings. There are some scenes that I enjoy reading over and over again. It is hard to look into my certain emotion in my heart that hurts me, but I like some of the posts derived from that pain. My first post that I was proud of myself was Everything. This is the moment of having first sex with a girlfriend and the flowing real, twisted, and sad emotions in his mind. It is not my experience but imagination. I just liked the emotion in this scene so much.
At some point, I started to write longer than 1 or 2 sentences. I wanted to write more of scenes like Everything. My everyday writing became my work and practice. I considered writing scenes as a way to improve myself and find the value of life. It seemed they are for something. I wasn’t sure where I was heading, and I’m still not sure where I’m at with my scenes. How many more do I want to write? I wonder if I could write a long novel, manuscript, screenplay, or scenario to make them into footage. These are too short that it even feels like a shame sometimes. Here are some of my favorite scene lists.
The Funniest Part in Baseball Match
Meet Her in a Dream
Bullies Get Owned
At The End
When Do We Meet Again?
When He Loved Me
I Loved You
No need to read all the scenes I listed here. I’ve been thinking about extending some of these scenes to longer stories. However, I’m not sure if I will keep writing the scenes on and on. After I finish my basic training, I would have to choose my career path because I’m planning to go back to university that I left absence behind 2 years ago. When I look back my experience as a blogger in this community, I’m so glad that I began writing. It was fun. I’ve found many talented and passionate writers. I should have interacted with more people engaging on their posts and praising their creativity that deserve recognition. Silly me, I couldn’t afford to do it. The person who digs the sadness and loneliness can’t find the space in heart to express and deeply love someone else. I love writing but it doesn’t give me money. Going to basic training makes me happy and sad at the same time. I wish I could come back with more ideas. It was very pleasant to know that there were few people at least who were reading my posts. I always appreciate everyone and you for reading my writing.
When I was 13 years old, I used to text with a girl who was my friend’s ex-girlfriend. I used my folder phone to send messages back and forth. I don’t remember how I got her number. I probably got it from my another friend’s phone book. I don’t know why I got interested in her, and I remember introducing myself to her as his ex-boyfriend’s friend. She was going to different school. I saw her face only once at a glance in a picture so I didn’t know how she looked like. We kinda flirted in that age level everyday for few months. We were open to each other as we were getting to know each other’s different gender. I don’t remember what I told her and what she told me, but the feeling of that time is still remained in me. Every message was naive and pure. I once asked her to send me her face of photo and she did. Her face on a photo was half-blocked by her phone taken in the bathroom with the cute pink hood sweatshirt. I was really immersed into her whether she is pretty or not. I really wanted to meet her outside of text message. My genuine and pure curiosity toward a girl was developing in that age, actively dreaming of love in every night in my days. It was not even about having a sex. My heart got touched by something whenever I thought of her. As I look back now, the moment every boy experience in that age was happening to me with her. Then the tragedy happened.
I accidentally dropped my phone into the toilet. I think I slipped the phone after washing my hands or face. I promptly took the phone out of it with sinking feeling but it was too late. It seemed everything was over when I dropped it in water. My phone was not turning on and responding at all. I tried to dry my phone with hair dryer and it didn’t help either. I could not talk to her. I did not memorize her number. There was no other way to contact her without my phone. Since the phone is just broken, I couldn’t pull out any phone number or photos from it. They said it would cost more money to fix the phone so it would be better to just buy a new phone. And I even had to change my number to buy the new phone cheaply because it was my fault to drop the phone into toilet. Maybe I was not thinking well enough. I couldn’t insist on keeping the number, and maybe I wasn’t sure if she was gonna text me back. I wanted to talk to her again but it was just the way it was. I couldn’t reach her. I didn’t know where she was living. I didn’t do anything particular to find her honestly. It might be because I did not want to meet her that enough. Or I was too young to acknowledge and express what my mind say to me. I don’t know why I did not try to find her number. It was my friend’s ex-girlfriend after all. I think I just spent my days in a dull state. I don’t have a memory how I was after that. I’m the person who just disappeared and ran away from her point of view.
I probably had a fear understanding my emotional state. It was probably a good timing to just run away from her which was everything I loved and feared. I believe I liked texting, and I was quite good at flirting through texting messages with girls before I started to talk to her. I can’t talk to girls through text messages anymore. Now, I don’t know what to say and I worry about everything. The guilt I have toward spectral figure of her in the photo she sent me put my pounding heart on the brake every time I see another girl in my phone.
It’s always the same. These two different hobbies I get interested in always turn out the same later. I mean the results of feeling. They look intriguing and attractive at first. I’m curious how they will go and how they will stimulate my nerves. I sometimes rush too fast, so I miss out some important parts. I should focus on reading the details they suggest. I forget how much time I’m spending on them. When certain amounts of time pass, I start to lose interest in them. It was fearful journey but I’m glad I could see myself going through the fear on my own to reach some points in exploration. Sometimes I can’t finish till the end. When I decide to move on, I can’t wait to see how interesting next issue will be. I think I can forget everything about them at once and move on to next one. Then I remember that I always forget it is not how they work. But I will never be able to stop my hobbies.
I’m quiet, selfish, and dangerous. Where were you? I can’t find you. I’m telling you because you are leaving, but you should not say everything you want to say. What I hate the most is something that will never happen. You can. You will have to look back why you decided to do this later.
I knew he loved me. I don’t know why he loved me. But I knew he would do anything for me. He only followed me. I liked how he was looking at me with his big eyes when I easily got mad at him. I irritated him. He didn’t know what to do when I was like that. I used his love to make him do as I said. I thought he will always love me.
He listened to me a lot. He tried to say something but he was too clumsy to express himself so I ignored him. I didn’t let him speak. I wanted him to only listen to me. I made him fool although he is not fool. I played with him often. He asked me to play together very often. He thought that I love him when I played with him happily. That would be the biggest reason he loved me. He needed protective love at his age.
I started to think he is too bright for me. I couldn’t handle him anymore. He sometimes got out of my hands. I think he loved me too much because he always sincerely fought me back on his way when I tried to control and refrain him. He reacted to me like it is the most important thing to him. Then it was easy for me to find how to hurt him. I decided to not play with him. I couldn’t enjoy playing with him. It started to get boring. I avoided him and I ignored him over and over again. He would have felt sadness and fear that I don’t love him anymore. He would have hated me as much as he loved me once. So he went to his friends. He made quite many friends. He wanted to be loved. He did the same to them as he did to me. He listened to them and he reacted to them. He believed that they will play with him if he keeps following them.
The person he loved did not love him back. He became insecure and unstable. He needed to find his figure and identity from others. He had to please others. He looked like a good person because he was quiet and he said yes all the time. He became very quiet. His voice became low. He was in fear. He wasted a lot of time to please others. After all he couldn’t have time to concern his own mind, school works, and all other interesting things. He didn’t find me when he was having a hard time. He and I never talked to each other anymore.
I thought he will come back to me someday. But he never came back. I thought we will talk together someday. But he left me. He might have found someone else replacing me. So I just left him too. We didn’t promise to see each other again. We were probably thinking each other that we hid deep inside of our minds. But we couldn’t find a way to get it out of our minds.
Time flew. Now I think that I loved him at that time. The memories back in the day hurt me. Pain of regrets never get old. I think that I deserve to suffer because I hurted his heart too much. I don’t know how to beg for his forgiveness. I don’t think I should do it for myself to feel better. I don’t want to hurt him ever again. I know he cannot love me again like he used to love me. I still remember his love from long time ago. I don’t want him to do anything for me. I just want to see him again. That is all I want.
Once my dream was becoming a movie director. My dad used to bring Hollywood movie dvd CD home in every weekend, and my family watched the movie together at night. I just told everyone that I will become a movie director someday. Movie was simply just my favorite thing in my life. One day, I felt movie is fake. It was not real. It sometimes ends too happily. It sometimes doesn’t end well. Regardless of how movie ends, it started to look like actors and actresses are lying. Movie was not realistic to me. Not a single movie gave me a hope to live better than yesterday. That was not how it worked to me. I watched a lot of movies. I couldn’t get into main character’s situation. I couldn’t enjoy movie itself. I don’t care what message the movie wants to deliver. I might think of the topic after finishing movie. The real life was different from movie. The real life is real. I would say that feeling is more related to our survival instinct. I wanted stronger feeling and emotion. It shouldn’t be a fake one. It shouldn’t be an acting. I can’t let myself feel the emotion that I don’t care anymore. And I’m too lazy. This is why I hope painters draw the facial expressions of real life people in his eyes. It’s because I can believe that they are real without a doubt. I don’t want to be deceived. Who would want to be deceived by paying money?
Then I watched a Japanese drama that someone recommended to me. It is old drama which was released in 2004. It’s called ‘Crying Out Love, in the Center of the World.’ Since I know some Japanese words, I believe I fully understand how the story goes(I had subtitle too). The story is simple. Long story short, the high school boy and girl love each other. Then a girl get leukemia. She gets sick day by day then a boy struggles to watch her dying. This is topic. She always wanted to watch the sky of Australia so they decide to take airplane together to get there. In airport she falls down, so he holds her and says in tears, “Please save her.” There are many scenes of him crying through out whole episodes of this drama, but I couldn’t resist crying in this scene. This drama and his acting changed my thoughts about acting. The way he cries would not mean real because the actress is actually not dying. She is acting dying. But it was still real for him. He was really and truly crying in his face. I know he is acting but it didn’t matter. Since he showed this much, it didn’t matter. It was enough. He showed enough. It became real in my mind.
I disappointed too many people. They gave me trust and love. I could not give them trust and love back. It was easy to make them start to love me. It was hard for me to love them back. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t confident. I could not devote myself to them. But my desire that I want to be loved never left me. I sometimes feel that no one has ever loved me from my childhood. I was afraid of me disappointing people. I was afraid of them betraying me. I was afraid that I might believe their lies. My voice got quieter and quieter. I just showed smiley face because I did not want to look like aggressive or indifferent person at least. I was scared to go deeper inside of their mind because it might make me important person to them. Someone told me that I should be more open-minded. Maybe I should have opened my mind.
Every day I think of her who I used to one-sided love when I was teenager. I barely talked with her in school. Once or twice. I just feel like I still love her. Or I might just want to believe I do. I might have loved her from there all my life. I want to believe that all the scattered and broken pieces will be put together if only I can feel true love. I’ve seen her many times only in my dreams. I want to meet her in real again. The time may come eventually. Until then, sadness is my best friend. Someone said sadness is only pure beautifulness. Maybe I just want to believe it.