Dear Henry draft 3

My dearest Henry,

Midnight has while passed and still I fail to wander upon the vast planes of sleep. Doubts of the act introduce themselves within my uninterested mind, although, the act of sleeping seems nonsensical; I am already dreaming of you…

Two years previous to now I had been sat in class, an evidently eccentric man not much shorter than 5ft10 stood before me. Metres of burgundy veiled him in various textures, ‘chino and cotton chic’ I remember you called it. A corduroy Blazer blessed with shoulder pads able to house several parrots; they would however clash un-wonderfully with the embarrassed blush of the jacket.   

A spherical peach glow shone from the depths of a grey number 2 quite spectacularly, it almost bewildered me how such a shine could be accomplished upon ones head. It shone as brightly as the finely polished silver turtle gently hanging upon a small chained necklace, quite prominent against the open collar of his black shirt. 
I was in complete awe at this man’s confidence to wear such a striking outfit. However, perhaps he had gotten dressed before he proudly placed the lightly framed round glasses upon his nose. Either way, I liked it.

Anthony Suter. That is all I knew. An identity I could not care less for now/anymore.  A poet; a man; a traveller; an observer of the world much like you and I.

He had visited the college that day to discuss poetry with the class- of which nobody had read any of his work. It was rather uninteresting to say the least, his combinations of vowels and consonants seemed almost strenuous; floating aimlessly around the air so close to my grasp, I just couldn't find the energy to reach out for them.

Instead I begun to wistfully gaze out of the window at the birches, I was an audience to the too and fro of elegant dancers dressed in the finest silver silk. Their green hair flowing long and wild in the wind- entrancing every fleck of gold within my iris.

Unable to look away I fell further down the rabbit hole until I came to an abrupt halt...

How cliché is this? I know, I know also that you would despise me for doing this but it has to be said, because it’s the truth and I owe you that much.
Seven hundred and thirty one days previously (I can tell you’d be sniggering at my arithmetic mistakes as you’re reading this and by god I’d have been wound up. There was a leap year that year so teasing shall stay a rest) the door to room 26 opened slowly, seductively almost as it exposed what was behind it.


Sauntering in late with clear abundance of ‘attitude’ you tossed your bag down on the floor and then dragged out the chair from behind me out with no caution of the noise it would make as you slumped down into it. “Nice of you to finally join us Mr White” Gordon had bellowed across the room to you. You replied through a smirk. “isn’t it just”.
 I had thought to myself what an arrogant twat you were, lucky me for having to put up with that for the rest of the year. How naïve of me to make such a judgement, especially before I had gotten to know you like I do now.

I still wonder if maybe I could have changed things, if I’d have given you a chance as soon as I’d met you, rather than slowly picking apart your flaws until there was nothing left for me to see but the rawness of you and all your light shining out beneath it. Your skeletal frame was charred and burned from the ethereal light of kindness within you, but all you saw were the blackened bones.
If I’d have become anchored to you instantaneously there’d have been more time for me to help you and make you believe how much I loved you, if only I’d have made you see that Henry! Why were you so blind to it all? God I wish you weren’t impaired by all your flaws enough to see through them like I did. Your flaws were a part of you and every single ounce of you I loved with all I could give and still that wasn’t enough. Every ounce of you I still love. You’re selfish Henry White, the most cruel and selfish person I were to ever know and ever will, you’re cruel for allowing me to fall in love with you.

 That’s the problem with being in love you see Henry. When you’re in love you really do become anchored and I did. It happened too late for me to help you but it happened never the less and now I’m stuck behind you’re blackened cage within your heart.
I’m still caged to you- six feet under the earth, anchors eternally attached and the strain is too much to bear now.
 Regardless of how strong it may be there is only so much a chain can hold. It can strain and strain until it finally breaks free or it can helplessly drag me down with you- were I wish to be, with you.
The strength is gone now. It has all gone. I can’t break the chain Henry. There is no way I can break it. Not without you.
I can feel it pulling me down and there’s no way no way I can break it no way. No other way without you. I don’t want to but it has to break Henry it just has to.

It won’t break
I can’t hold.

Your light no longer exudes from beneath me my love. It scintillates all around me- it drowns me now as I am at the depth of its ocean. I am now too zero degrees and I can feel you closer than I’ve felt since the day I found you cold. 

Yours eternally, James.    

Dear Henry notes for commentary

I originally begun to 'freefall write' as I had no idea what I was going to write about, I soon realised that my writing had turned into a typical coming of age teenage love story. Although these are my favourite stories (especially by John Green who's influence I have taken whilst writing this piece) I did not want it to turn out that way so I added a twist by taking inspiration from Romeo and Juliet the classic play by Shakespeare. I hoped to portray the story in a more modern way.

I aimed to show character throughout, I thought this would work well through letter form.

I wanted to use a lot of varied sentence structure to create emotion and pace that reflects the feelings of juliet as she would be writing.

dear henry draft edited

Dear Henry,

Midnight has while passed and still I fail to wander upon the vast plane of sleep. Doubts of the act introduce themselves within my uninterested mind, although, the act of sleeping seems nonsensical; I am already dreaming of you…

Two years previous I had been sat in class, an evidently eccentric man not much shorter than 5ft10 stood before me. Metres of burgundy veiled him in various textures, ‘chino and cotton chic’ I remember you called it. A corduroy Blazer blessed with shoulder pads able to house several parrots; they would however clash un-wonderfully with the embarrassed blush of the jacket.   

A spherical peach glow shone from the depths of a grey number 2 quite spectacularly, it almost bewildered me how such a shine could be accomplished upon ones head. It shone as brightly as the finely polished silver turtle gently hanging upon a small chained necklace, quite prominent against the open collar of his black shirt. I was in complete awe at this man’s confidence to wear such a striking outfit. However, perhaps he got dressed before he proudly placed the lightly framed round glasses upon his nose. Either way, I liked it.

Anthony Suter. That is all I knew. An identity I could not care less for.  A poet; a man; a traveller; an observer of the world much like you and I.

He had visited the college that day to discuss poetry with the class- of which nobody had read any of his work. It was rather uninteresting to say the least, the combinations of vowels and consonants seemed almost strenuous; floating aimlessly around the air so close to my grasp, I just couldn't find the energy to reach out for them.

Instead I wistfully gazed out of the window at the birches, I was an audience to the too and fro of elegant dancers dressed in the finest silver silk. Green hair flowing long and wild in the wind- entrancing every fleck of gold within my iris.

Unable to look away I fell further down the rabbit hole until I came to an abrupt halt...

How cliché is this? I know, I know also that you would hate me for doing this but it has to be said, because it’s the truth and I owe you that much.
Seven hundred and thirty one days previously (I can tell you’d be sniggering at my arithmetic mistakes as you’re reading this and by god I’d have been wound up. There was a leap year that year so teasing shall stay a rest) the door to room 26 opened slowly, seductively almost as it exposed what was behind it.


Sauntering in late with clear abundance of ‘attitude’ you tossed your bag down on the floor and dragged the chair behind me out with no caution of the noise it would make as you slumped down into it. “Nice of you to finally join us Mr White” Gordon had bellowed across the room to you. You replied through a smirk. “isn’t it just”.
 I had thought to myself what an arrogant twat you were, lucky me for having to put up with that for the rest of the year. How naïve of me to make such a judgement, especially before I had gotten to know you like I do now.

I still wonder if maybe I could have changed things, if I’d have given you a chance as soon as I’d met you, rather than slowly picking apart your flaws until there was nothing left for me to see but the rawness of you and all your light shining out beneath it. Your skeletal frame was charred and burned from the ethereal light of kindness within you, but all you saw were the blackened bones.
If I’d have become anchored to you instantaneously there’d have been more time for me to help you and make you believe how much I loved you, if only I’d have made you see that Henry! Why were you so blind to it all? God I wish you weren’t impaired by all your flaws enough to see through them like I did. Your flaws were a part of you and every single ounce of you I loved with all I could give and still that wasn’t enough. Every ounce of you I still love. You’re selfish Henry White, the most cruel and selfish person I were to ever know and ever will, you’re cruel for allowing me to fall in love with you.

 That’s the problem with being in love you see Henry. When you’re in love you really do become anchored and I did. It happened too late for me to help you but it happened never the less and now I’m stuck behind you’re blackened cage within your heart.
I’m still caged to you- six feet under the earth, anchors eternally attached and the strain is too much to bear now.
 Regardless of how strong it may be there is only so much a chain can hold. It can strain and strain until it finally breaks free or it can helplessly drag me down with you- were I wish to be, with you.
The strength is gone now. It has all gone. I can’t break the chain Henry. There is no way I can break it. Not without you.
I can feel it pulling me down and there’s no way no way I can break it no way. No other way without you. I don’t want to but it has to break Henry it just has to.

It won’t break
I can’t hold.

Your light no longer exudes from beneath me my love. It scintillates all around me- it drowns me now as I am at the depth of its ocean. I am now too zero degrees and I can feel you closer than I’ve felt since the day I found you cold. 

Yours eternally, Juliet.    
xxx

Dear henry, first draft

Dear Henry,

Midnight has while passed and still I fail to wander upon the vast plane of sleep. Doubts of the act introduce themselves within my uninterested mind, although, the act of sleeping seems nonsensical; I am already dreaming of you…

 

Two years previous I had been sat in class, an evidently eccentric man before me. Not much shorter than 5ft10, metres of burgundy veiled in various textures, ‘chino and cotton chic’ I remember you called it. A corduroy Blazer blessed with shoulder pads with the ability to house several parrots, they would however clash un-wonderfully with the embarrassed blush of the jacket. A spherical peach glow shone from the depths of a grey number 2 quite spectacularly, it almost bewildered me how such a shine could be accomplished upon ones head. It shone as brightly as the finely polished silver turtle gently hanging upon a small chained necklace, quite prominent against the open collar of his black shirt. I was in complete awe at this man’s confidence to wear such a striking outfit. However, perhaps he got dressed before he proudly placed the lightly framed round glasses upon his nose. Either way, I liked it.

Anthony Suter. That is all I knew. An identity I could not care less for.  A poet; a man; a traveller; an observer of the world much like you and I.

He had visited the college that day to discuss poetry with the class- of which nobody had read any of his work. It was rather uninteresting to say the least, the combinations of vowels and consonants seemed almost strenuous; floating aimlessly around the air so close to my grasp, I just couldn't find the energy to reach out for them.

Instead I wistfully gazed out of the window at the birches, I was an audience to the too and fro of elegant dancers dressed in the finest silver silk. Green hair flowing long and wild in the wind- entrancing every fleck of gold within my iris.

Unable to look away I fell further down the rabbit hole until I came to an abrupt halt...

How cliché is this? I know, I know also that you would hate me for doing this but it has to be said, because it’s the truth and I owe you that much.
Seven hundred and thirty one days previously (I can tell you’d be sniggering at my arithmetic mistakes as you’re reading this and by god I’d have been wound up. There was a leap year that year so teasing shall stay a rest) the door to room 26 opened slowly, seductively almost as it exposed what was behind it.


Sauntering in late with clear abundance of ‘attitude’ you tossed your bag down on the floor and dragged the chair behind me out with no caution of the noise it would make as you slumped down into it. “Nice of you to finally join us Mr White” Gordon had bellowed across the room to you. You replied through a smirk. “isn’t it just”.
 I had thought to myself what an arrogant twat you were, lucky me for having to put up with that for the rest of the year. How naïve of me to make such a judgement, especially before I had gotten to know you like I do now.

I still wonder if maybe I could have changed things, if I’d have given you a chance as soon as I’d met you, rather than slowly picking apart your flaws until there was nothing left for me to see but the rawness of you and all your light shining out beneath it. Your skeletal frame was charred and burned from the ethereal light of kindness within you, but all you saw were the blackened bones.
If I’d have become anchored to you instantaneously there’d have been more time for me to help you and make you believe how much I loved you, if only I’d have made you see that Henry! Why were you so blind to it all? God I wish you weren’t impaired by all your flaws enough to see through them like I did. Your flaws were a part of you and every single ounce of you I loved with all I could give and still that wasn’t enough. Every ounce of you I still love. You’re selfish Henry White, the most cruel and selfish person I were to ever know and ever will, you’re cruel for allowing me to fall in love with you.

 That’s the problem with being in love you see Henry. When you’re in love you really do become anchored and I did. It happened too late for me to help you but it happened never the less and now I’m stuck behind you’re blackened cage within your heart.
I’m still caged to you- six feet under the earth, anchors eternally attached and the strain is too much to bear now.
 Regardless of how strong it may be there is only so much a chain can hold. It can strain and strain until it finally breaks free or it can helplessly drag me down with you- were I wish to be, with you.
The strength is gone now. It has all gone. I can’t break the chain Henry. There is no way I can break it. Not without you.
I can feel it pulling me down and there’s no way no way I can break it no way. No other way without you. I don’t want to but it has to break Henry it just has to.

It won’t break
I can’t hold.

Your light no longer exudes from beneath me my love. It scintillates all around me- it drowns me now as I am at the depth of its ocean. I am now too zero degrees and I can feel you closer than I’ve felt since the day I found you cold.

(To put in sentences link)

Nighttime changes me, I feel is if it is the moon. It brings out all the sides in me I can't allow to be fully illuminated.

Darkness that pierced the soul with an evacuation of light so horrific that you'd be tainted eternally with one glimpse of it.  

No one dared go within 100ft