Skylar Whitney
Bio
Introvert at heart. Lover of journaling, free-verse poetry, and poutine.
Stories (43)
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I was supposed to be in your city
I’m disappointed because I thought it would be another play of fate, for me to be back in your city. I thought “what perfect timing it could be.” I thought, maybe I’d be so lucky to run into you again. Now, it feels like quite the opposite. It feels like a conniving trick from the universe. Like the heavens knew what I so badly wanted, and as if to show me my heart lay untrue, they pulled me as far away as they could from you. I should’ve run into you the day after tomorrow. You would’ve said my name by surprise. Wouldn’t you be happy to see me, too? I’d quite literally fly across the country for you. In fact, now, that’s all I desire to do. I am bored of this concrete jungle. I long for the snow-covered mountains. I want the cuddles with kitties and the walks along the seawall and the view of your smiling eyes. Obsessed in love, some say I am. Others think it can’t be true. What’s true, although, since my last heartbreak, I haven’t felt a desire brand new. Not until you. While infatuation courses through my every vein. And my mind tries a way to stay sane. I find myself reeling on this long-lost love feeling…what a shame if my overthinking is to blame. Since I’ve thrown myself out in the past; such a vulnerable state couldn’t last. From all those forbidden crushes who tore my heart in two…who rejected my offerings and splattered my confessions…who shattered my walls and weren’t there to catch my fall…I’ve found safety in making myself small. When you stake out the place in the bushes. When you watch as the berries grow from buds. You watch from afar, the world evolving as it does, and you simply stay small like you are. But it’s only myself I can blame. Not the ones who never think of my name. On, they live their lives as though I don’t exist. Yet inside my mind lives a penthouse of cysts. All of you are a burden to me. A puss-filled, painful pimple shining on the middle of my forehead, with glee. An inconvenience…an insecurity…a tragedy. If they had remained my own villains…a history of my past defeats…I’d have conquered this connection in my rage not to fall; I’d have poured my heart out for you, I’d have given my all; I’d have rose from the ashes, as a phoenix I soar; I’d have struck at the crack of lightning, as my thunderbird roars; I’d have burned with desire, a strong flame that glows bright; I’d have called out your name, the voice that guides you in the night.
By Skylar Whitney3 years ago in Poets
Straight-A Student to University Drop-Out; Is there another way to success?
I was once asked, in my eleventh grade English class, what my definition of success was. I replied with something along the lines of having a career that you enjoy and having a stable income to follow suit. Some of my classmates would've countered my argument to say that success was not so fixated on a good job and a certain salary, but also the people that surround you in your daily life, the impact you feel that you're making in the world around you, and the general joy and pleasure that you feel when you wake up each morning. I would've thought my classmates were simply wrong in their opinions and that one could not be deemed successful if they were not making at least 70k per year in a career that they attained through obtaining a university degree.
By Skylar Whitney3 years ago in Journal
I've found a home within myself
I’ve found a home within myself and I take it with me everywhere I go. While I may feel lonely, I’m never alone. I’m not lost and trying to find my way; I’m curious and eager to see what exists on earth besides that which I already know.
By Skylar Whitney3 years ago in Poets
