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"I see the hurt in your eyes. It's a reflection of the mess I've made of things."

—Flynn Caulfield, Gilded Cage

I know I’m being dramatic, but it’s hard not to feel this way. I miss him so much. I miss us. I miss the life we had together. Maybe one day, I’ll find peace. But for now, I’ll just hold onto these memories, cherish them like a precious treasure.

—Flynn Caulfield (August, 2020)

North Star

I woke up feeling like the world was closing in on me. The silent specter crept into my thoughts. Every little thing seemed to be a sign. Oh, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. My guiding star seemed to be slipping from my grasp.

Was it my fault? In my eagerness to hold onto love, had I inadvertently pushed you away?

These questions pricked at my soul.

I'm a mess. Pacing back and forth. Every text, every call, every glance was scrutinized under a microscope.

When you knocked on my door, the lines of concern etched upon your brow, contrasted starkly with the playful twinkle in your eyes. You sat down beside me. Gentle words and reassuring touch. You strove so hard to dispel the clouds that had been looming over me, reminding me of the steadfast love that has always been our North Star. You said we're happy, we're in love, and there's no need to worry.

I know you love me, and I love you. I know I'm being irrational, but it’s hard not to feel this way. I tried to listen, but my mind was racing. Gosh, I'm so terrified of losing you. It's as if I'm standing on the precipice of a cliff, one misstep away from falling into the abyss.

But then you suggested we go out, have fun, and just enjoy each other's company. I hesitated. But somehow, something in your eyes convinced me.

And so we did. We spent the afternoon wandering through the park. The sunlight dappling our faces like golden confetti. As we sat on a bench, watching the world go by, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. For the first time in a long time, my heart was truly at ease. The darkness that had clouded my mind seemed to lift, revealing a sky filled with stars.

And that's when it hit me. I was stressing too much. This love is perfect. We're happy, we're in love, and there's no need to doubt it.

Maybe I just need to trust more. To let go of the fear. To believe that our love is strong enough to brave any tempest. It would endure, shining brightly through the darkest of nights.

Until then, I'll hold onto your hand tightly, hoping that it will be enough to keep me from drifting away.

© Flynn Caulfield

Early Days

I've been looking through our old photos, trying to recapture the magic of our early days. But the more I look, the more I realize how much has changed.

We’d been dancing through life together. But now the music has stopped, leaving us alone in the darkness. The laughter that once echoed through our days has ceased to play. Everything falls into a wintry haze.

I tried to talk to you today, to express how much I'm hurting. But words seem so inadequate. Like trying to stop the flood with a teaspoon. You just looked at me with that blank expression. And I felt like I was talking to a stranger.

Now the stars seem distant and cold. I'm afraid that our love is sinking, that there's no way to save it. I just want to feel whole again, to have someone to share my life with. But as I look out at the rain-soaked world, I can't help but feel a sense of hopelessness.

© Flynn Caulfield

Mi vida era única debido a la ausencia de todas esas pequeñas cosas que constituyen la normalidad de cualquier persona.

La historia del loco. John Katzenbach.

Siempre que oigas el murmullo de los árboles y la canción del bosque, párate a pensar en mí. Pero no me esperes. Ahora soy libre. Y tú estás llena de sueños y te espera una vida repleta de amor.

El Chico del Bosque, Jen Minkman.

No me olvides, no dejes que él sea el único que me recuerde.

El Jardín de las mariposas/Dot Hutchison

No me gusta guardar secretos. Los secretos acaban por lastimar a todos los implicados.

¿Y si quedamos como amigos?, Elizabeth Eulberg

Y decidió que, si había conocido el amor, también podía seguir los caminos del odio.

Alas de fuego, Laura Gallego.

Los libros me transportaban en un instante a los lugares donde no podía ir, me transmitían las confesiones de personas que no conocía y me mostraban las vidas que no podía observar de cerca. También estaban repletos de sentimientos que no podía sentir y experiencias que no había vivido (...) Almendra, Won-Pyung Sohn.

La gente decía que Goni era un chico imposible de comprender, pero yo no opinaba lo mismo. Simplemente, nadie se daba el trabajo de mirarlo bien.

Almendra, Won-Pyung Sohn.

Simplemente deseaba encontrarme con mi amigo, el chico bueno que todos creían un monstruo.

Almendra, Won-Pyung Sohn.

Yo decido afrontar la vida del modo que lo he hecho siempre: tal como viene y en la medida en que puedo sentirla.

Almendra, Won-Pyung Sohn.

¿Puedo vivir por ti? ¿Llevarte en mi cuerpo para que existas los cincuenta o sesenta años que te robaron?

Paula, Isabel Allende.

(...) mi padre es una gran ausencia en mi vida, se fue tan temprano y de manera tan rotunda, que no guardo recuerdos suyos.

Paula, Isabel Allende.

Perhaps a lighter way of understanding this concept is through crack fics or romance fics where misunderstanding is one of the key foundations in the story.

With much of the nature of these fics being rooted in dramatic irony, it’s maybe the most blatant demonstration of logical fallacy and inconsistencies between characters’ thoughts, words, and actions, as well as the difference between what the characters know and what the author knows.

In these cases, the author usually highlights the points mentioned by op (esp if it’s a shorter crack fic where the author really needs to be concise), so consider it a starter course to work up to the more subtle (?) differences in other works :)

Basic rules for analysing fiction, an incomprehensive list jotted down in a hurry:

The protagonist isn’t always right

The protagonist isn’t always good

The protagonist isn’t always written to be relatable or likeable

The narrator isn’t always right

The narrator isn’t always good

The narrator isn’t always telling the truth

The narrator isn’t always the author

The protagonist’s moral compass, the narrator’s moral compass and the author’s moral compass are three entirely different things that only occasionally overlap

Pay attention to what characters do and not just what they say

Pay special attention when what the characters do is at odds with what they say

A lot of the time the curtains are blue for a reason. If they aren’t, you should read better books