morsewrite-blog - Tumblr blog

[morsewrite-blog]

     This Valentine’s Day I felt a bit like the couple pictured above. Lauryn and I have an interesting dynamic and it is destroying us.  I am hesitant to present the destruction in a negative light...for I am confident we crave the it. We won’t admit it, but there’s an appeal to the madness. In fact, just like amazing Amy, I picture my lovely lauryn writing, “This man may kill me,” in her leather-bound journal. I do not shutter at this. I get goosebumps. I get a craving for more crazy. 

     Lauryn woke up to the absence of a festive text and I truly believe she felt as if I had (just like in the film) (life imitating art) slammed her soft head into the dry wall and whispered “cunt!”. But my sweet, if you are reading this, I meant to do no such thing. I meant to cause no such harm.

     You may soon want to fake your death to spite me.. you may want to go all “no more cool girl” on me. But there is something we have that seems immovable. 

     There is potential. Potential to thrive, to grow, to expand. We were walking in the god damn garden of eden and I took a bite of the apple.  Instead of falling into a world of innate evils, we fell into a world of untapped possibilities.  Why must we fall into the routine of bitterness towards one another when so much lies directly in front of us? 

     I end with a simple plea. Take this apology and let it sit with you. Sit with my words. Sit with my expression of love towards you my sweet sweet girl. Recall the beginning of the film above and dream of cracking my skull in order to reveal a running mess of my thoughts. Sift through them and I promise you will find that my love for you is coursing through my insides. 

[morsewrite-blog]

01-31-17

I write with too many fluff words and it needs to stop before I make myself vomit. 

[morsewrite-blog]

01-19-17

I have failed to do a post a day and I would really like to try and push myself to complete this fairly simple goal. Today’s piece will act as an outlet. As a journalism student at the University of Toledo, writing and reporting has become and large part of my day to day. As a journalism student at the University of Kentucky, writing and reporting has become a large part of Lauryn Haas’s life. Herein lies the problem. This girl is the ideal woman made just for me. An intellect with a passion for my off the wall behavior, Lauryn is along for the ride. So please tell me why I have created this malicious (and irrational) competition between the two of us. What made her success such a disaster in my eyes? I have this deep brooding fear of her in some major city apartment with some flowy haired male writing for esquire while she edits her latest article for a major fashion magazine. Is it because she is a semester ahead? Is it because she has money? 

I sit here and feel okay about her recent blog. I sit here and feel okay about her scholarship money. I sit here and feel okay about the high possibility of her successful future. What scares me is... the fact that hours late I may feel different. When she makes the paper will I worry her work will be better than my own? When she gets an internship will I congrulate  her or tear down the good she has worked hard to produce? 

Maybe it stems from my own deep rooted issues. I was intimate with her and I feel as if that means I have gained control of her. I feel as if that means she should bow down to me and follow in my footsteps (but always miles behind). Where does this come from? I want help, I want answers, I want change, I want explanation, I want happiness, I want self assurance, I want a healthy relationship, I was self confidence, I want to feel her happiness, I want to  feel my happiness.

This is a cry for help. How do I stop myself from becoming the grumpy middle aged man who gets upset over the success of his wife? How do I escape the “tortured” mindset. Where do I go? Who do I talk to?

Someone. Anyone. . I feel my negativity drain out and pour into her and if Ican’t stop this I do not know what will happen. I don't want her to end up in the arms of someone who does not, who won't ever, know her the way I do. It is a fear, it is a repulsion, it is a close reality. 

-b.m.

[morsewrite-blog]

01 - 12 -17

Unsure of what this is going to be. An outlet maybe? A place to practice my writing? Maybe a place to voice my concern and or personal anxieties? I am confident in my recent decision to focus on writing and eventually have a journalistic career dealing with polices, world issues, and culture. I would like to analyze a story once in awhile dealing with pressing issues/interests of the day. These writings are not intended for a specific audience. If someone happens to stumble across my works on this very public site, feel free to indulge yourself in what i hope to be some decent works. 

all writings signed - b. m.