Vaisa Haile
Bio
I've been writing poetry since 6th grade. I write very short stories from time to time.
Stories (10)
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Grim. Content Warning.
Black and flowing robes are what you probably picture. Thanatos or Grimm Brothers Fairy tales should give you a clearer vision of who I am. I am boundless, endless, the end and the next step to new beginnings. You may plead, beg, or quietly accept. You may look over your shoulder and see me coming or be blindsided. You may see me at the foot of your bed or in the coming car. It may be seconds, hours, years, and you may know a rough time when I arrive. I may arrive before you begin-before thought occurs and thus never know me. How blissful. As if you were asleep. You may be safe, comfortable, and unaware of your fate. You may be in danger hoping you’ll escape. That you will be the lucky survivor. You may be sick and have no interest in getting better. You may be sick and clinging to life. You may be hopeful or careless. You may not have thought you’d get this far or die this young. And at a quarter of your life you’ll have realized it’s been a quarter to a hundred. That you tried your best to not let that happen. To listen to the call from a different name. And feel like an imposter by your birth. To then go by a different name. Accept new truths. Treat new diagnoses. Look for more answers. Begin a new story and accept that the rising action has yet to come. Or maybe it’s already happened. I wouldn’t know as I come for you at the end of your story. I appear here and there as a guest leaving swirled spots where the ink mixed with tears in your story. Where you pleaded to switch places. That it isn’t fair. That no one deserved to feel how tired you are of living. How painful it is. How very little of your life was without discontentment and fear. How the universe is cruel despite your adoration. She is everything in every sense of the word. She is far prettier than your ugly existence. That you have so much to offer yet no way to offer it to mankind. You want to share your adoration. You want to share what keeps you going. What stays constant and yet reveals so many new truths. You want others to feel what you feel because as cruel as she is the universe has never disappointed you or made you feel small. Just incredibly lucky. Lucky to have been here in this moment in this place in such a way that you can read about her secrets. People disappoint you. Hurt you. Take advantage of you. They dismiss you. Ignore you. So you struggle to connect. The internet helps a bit, but the distance makes you long. And the friends you know in person now only connect through your screen. You log off, and are utterly alone. But you know that I am near. You try to get closer. You don’t know how far away I am. You don’t know how to draw me near. You have tried. Every single year since you were eight years old you tried. One more disappointment for you. I never come. I was close once. But I couldn’t take you. I was at your door. But the nurses were at your bed before I could stand before you. I watched. You heard your mother, I know her well. I guided her mother, and later, her father. I took her friend. I took her abuser. And she stands between us. You tried to push her aside, but her presence distracted you from me. But I want you to know that however we meet, peace is best when experienced. You cannot know contentment when dead. You may not have pain but you will also lose joy. You may not know fear but you will not know peace. The end comes for us all. You’ll get your visit. It hasn’t worked when you coaxed me before. Shouldn’t that tell you something?
By Vaisa Haile2 years ago in Motivation
The Rain on Different Worlds
HOME-Chapter One Earth has its own senses. That which we observe every moment without a second thought. From the blood we taste in our dehydrated mouths to our food, the metals of earth readily reminds us of Earth. And that we shall embalm ourselves within Earth when we are done. When our bodies are readily old, worn out from the toils of labor and the tribulations of human error, nature beckons us home. Back to dust that enrichens the soil for new generations of reincarnated stardust. Through follies we learn all too quickly just how we aren’t so different from other life. That beyond our intelligence and honest curiosity-are we in fact, a higher order of being? Surely, we're still of flesh, bone, and mistakes. That we specks are simply aware of our accidental existence and that had we not existed, the universe would have merely shifted towards similar scholarly beings. But does that mean we are alone? Do our richly experienced selves have no equals? I refuse to believe that. We did not believe that for all our history having told stories of beings beyond reach either godly or of uncanny resemblance. Statistically it is highly unlikely. The human experience says otherwise. It is why I journal. To digest what occurs. There must be someone if not something beyond. Are cosmic sensories really so unknowable? Wet granulated sand freshly deposited amongst the slippery salty rocks. The cool breeze on a hot summer day. Humidity that covers you like a warm wet towel-heavy, heated, and moist. Surely these cannot be overly specific? Can they be repeatable experiences? Humidity exists elsewhere and surely breathable atmospheres. I suppose I will find out.
By Vaisa Haile2 years ago in Fiction
Interstellar Movie Review
Introduction I just recently watched Interstellar and was blown away. I was in tears every time space came on screen- and don’t even ask how I was when Gargantua became the center of attention...ok I’ll tell. I felt so overwhelmed with joy that I melted on the spot. It was very refreshing to have a film so accurately depict and even responsibly speculate science. It was exhilarating how pleasing to the eye it was. I’m getting choked up as I write this. This film is certainly underrated and I am greedy for more like it. After I saw the movie I immediately went looking for a book about it and stumbled across Kip Thorne’s The Science of Interstellar.
By Vaisa Haile4 years ago in Motivation
