“Artifact” My Biography – Joshua Snow

white dragon jr snow facing to rightI would like to mark the
13th of July 2014 as the date I formally Introduced
J.R. Snow, a young emerging writer. For the past
three Sundays, he has been our Guest Artist and
his work, in the form of a three part short
story, has been presented here on
‘the secret keeper.’
Thank You Joshua
Jennifer Kiley

white dragon jr snow

Now it is time for the writer to come out from
behind his worded mask of storytelling and
talk to us about himself and his aspirations.
The following is J.R.’s
introduction of himself
in his own words.
Thank you ALL. Now I
give you - J.R. Snow


My Biography

Joshua Snow

“Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.” – Roald Dahl

There are a lot of things I wish to say in this, things I wish to express and explain, but words can only describe so much. My name is Joshua Snow. If you’re a Game of Thrones fan like me, you probably already caught onto the fact that my last name is Snow and you know what it means. Yes, I have been told that I know nothing. (Another Game of Thrones reference) However, people are just trying to be funny rather than rude. Besides that, allow me to introduce myself.

Dragon Spirit for j.r. snow bioI live in Texas, a very big place deep in the south. Within this very big state I live in Houston. To put it bluntly, I do not like it here. Its too hot, not enough forest and mountains, and the winters are too short. I plan to move up north someday to some place I feel like I belong. I am 19 and I will be turning 20 this year in August. I am currently enrolled in college classes for the first time and will be starting June 2nd. A lot of change is coming my way, and for the most part, it has been scary to feel.

Now I bet you’re all wondering, “What is a child like me doing talking about myself?” Well, besides what I just told you, I am a writer. A creator. A daydreamer. My mind is always somewhere. I was always that kid in class caught with his head up in the clouds. Even my principal said so when I graduated high school.

I’m fascinated with anything magical, and most of all, anything having to do with dragons. Dragons to me are the most wonderful beings in the world. I read about them as a kid and I have dragon décor all over my room. I have a Celtic dragon flag that’s rather large, a dragon poster by the wonderful artist Christina Yen, a dragon clock, dragon books, Dragon’s Blood incense, (I promise its not really made of dragon’s blood) dragon pendants and a dragon incense holder as well as a box with a dragon laying on it. I’m pretty sure that’s all of it. Dragons are like family to me and I strongly believe they are my guardian angels. I’ve dreamed about them a lot too and I’ve had a lot of dreams of flying. I get a running start and I just leap off my own two feet and fly. There was one particular dream where I was flying with a lot of dragons and a green one stood out to me.

Awesome dragon Poster facing rightI’ve been working on a big fantasy story for the past three years now. I’ve rewritten it a lot of times, and combining all those rewrites, I don’t doubt in my mind I’d go up to 300-400 pages. The characters are probably the closest part to perfect out of the whole story. The plot is still in motion and being worked out in detail and I also drew a map of the world.

I’ve planned for this to be a series of books. I designed the characters via a certain video game where I was allowed to create my own fighter and I designed them through that. I created eighty-two characters until I found the very few I desired. Out of all of those, the few I kept are probably six or seven. My most precious character I created is a Seraphina, a dragon who can transform into a woman with long, white hair and keeps the beautiful blue eyes I gave her. She’s the last one who carries the power of old magic inside her, magic that no longer exists in the world.

In the world I created, magic is dying. Other species like elves no longer exist, and dragons and humans are the only ones known to be alive. However, humans can use magic as well. There are witches and mages, good and evil. I never liked the idea that witches and wizards were all evil anyway. I found it to be tasteless and narrow minded. Also, in the world, there is a war going on. It is a private war, one that is hidden from public knowledge. No one is aware of but those involved. I do have deeper details but I do not wish to spoil. I hate spoilers myself. The entire series is inspired by the idea that despite all of cruelty, corruption and darkness in the world, there is always a chance for happiness. There is such a thing as a happy ending. Its just that not everyone gets one, and those who do get one are blessed. Not everyone gets a happy ending, sadly, for everyone who deserved one.

dragon white looking left into the sea while sitting on a ledgeAs for magical things, I do believe there is some sort of magic in the world. From what I’ve felt and seen, I can’t doubt it. I can no longer think it’s as simple as science and logic. I had a friend once who told me the reason spiritual things were still around was because you can’t prove them wrong because that individual believes it so much, so it carries on, and you can’t prove them right because there’s no physical proof or evidence to show to people. If I believe in a so-called god, I cannot call this so called god and have you meet him in person. I cannot show you a spirit of a dead person or show you a dragon or something magical with my own hands. His logic and reasoning were very interesting, and he actually offered to hear my opinions and to tell me if I was wrong, but I decided not to.

All I know, and believe, is that there is something in matters of spirit and magic. And through things I wish to write like a short story or this big fantasy story I spoke of, I wish to share that. I believe magic breathes through everything, I believe in different dimensions, spirits, souls, guardian angels, and past lives. I believe everything has a life and a spirit and a name. Everything is like a little artifact. It has its own identity, meaning, and its come from something. Everything has an origin. Everything comes to us for a reason. That’s what I ultimately believe. Everything happens for a reason.

joshua snow 9th june 2014

If you want to contact

Author J.R. Snow
[Joshua Snow]

Please Use Contact Windows

Below Music Video

hand letting go of golden flecks gif

Evanescence - Together Again

Please Feel Free To Contact Joshua Snow. Fill Out The Windows Below With Questions &/or Comments. They will be forwarded to Joshua.

Thank you.   jkm the secret keeper

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“Tears” Part Three “Timeless Human”

a writer's word polished or raw

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I would like to introduce to you J.R. Snow, a young emerging writer.
A major influence in J.R.’s writing is the magical & spiritual
interconnectedness between Dragons & people.

I am delighted to open up ‘the secret keeper’ to present J.R.’s work.
Whenever he has written something he feels he would like to share,
I will post his work here as a Guest Artist.

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

“Tears” – A Short Story
In Three Parts
Timeless Human” – Part Three
Written by Guest Writer J.R. Snow
Post Sunday 6th July 2014

“Only love can reach into a human’s heart, piece it back together and make it more beautiful.”

white dragon jr snow

“Timeless Human”
by J.R. Snow

He looked at me confused. I couldn’t spit out any other phrase besides, “I am sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say because I was overwhelmed. There was so much inside him that he’s wanted to show, not just anyone, but me. He desired to share love and happiness with me but he fears rejection and heartbreak, two horrible things I never intend to give.

I saw tears begin to run down his eyes and I felt a lot of guilt and sadness. “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” He was blaming himself when there was no need to. In the moment, I lunged at him, my lips pressing against his hard and passionately. His emotions exploded. Everything began to pour out. It hurt to feel all of it, but it was a good kind of pain. He held me tight, fighting to hold me as hard as he could, and just continued to kiss me back. In that moment, I felt everything. I then realized how much he loved me and how much I truly loved him.

The whole day we stayed together, but that night, I came to him wearing a white dress, wearing nothing else underneath. He smiled widely seeing me again. Tonight was the first night of winter, and the first chill would arrive tonight. I intended to keep him warm for the whole night and beyond, for as long as the sun and moon rose and set beyond the mountains and forests.

When he held my hands this time, I held back with force, letting him know I wanted him like he did. I told him how I loved him and wished to make sure he never felt lonely again for the rest of his life. He smiled and I saw a single tear leave one of his eyes. I then wiped it away. He then said to me, “I’ve never felt so happy in my entire life.” I then began to kiss him.

He felt my warm back and held me tightly, not wanting to let go. I could feel his need for me in how tight his fingers wrapped around me. All of the passion spoke to me in the kiss. Our lips didn’t leave each other. However, I know what he truly desired. He wanted to make love to me in the most intense way possible. He wished to feel my naked body and please me. I knew whenever his hand began to lower itself towards the wet warmth beneath me, feeling me softly and lovingly. With a free hand he simply helped my dress fall, and that night, I felt all of the passion and love he had for me pour from his mouth, his hands and the rest of him. Even though he was no immortal, he was timeless to me, and soon he would be.

huge & little dragon together sm

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If you wish to contact the Author J.R. Snow
Please Feel Free to Use the Contact Windows Below

“Tears” Part Two “Invisible” – A Short Story

a writer's word polished or raw

*      *       *       *       *       *       *

I would like to introduce to you J.R. Snow, a young emerging writer.
A major influence in J.R.’s writing is the magical & spiritual
interconnectedness between Dragons & people.

I am delighted to open up ‘the secret keeper’ to present J.R.’s work.
Whenever he has written something he feels he would like to share,
I will post his work here as a Guest Artist.

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

Tears” – A Short Story
In Three Parts
Invisible” – Part Two
Written by Guest Writer J.R. Snow
Post Saturday 29th June 2014

“Only love can reach into a human’s heart, piece it back together and make it more beautiful.”

white dragon jr snow

by J.R. Snow

Ever since that day, I didn’t dare leave him alone unless he desired to be. I stood by his side whenever he stood out on the white, marble patio of his room to look out at the stone city and the mountains that circled it and stretched beyond. I kept him warm whenever he grew cold at night, turning to my true form to wrap my white wings around him. I lit warming fires and candles with the flames within me whenever he slept to keep the darkness away. He never liked the dark. It always made him feel like he wasn’t safe.

In my human form, I only looked a little older than he was. In the aging terms of an immortal, I was still very young. Maybe that’s why he got along with me so much, because I looked his age in human form, or maybe it has more to do with who I am. Whatever the reason, I began to see after that day when he cried in my arms his affection for me grew stronger. He would hold me when I lied next to him, hold my hands, and sometimes he would tell me how much I really mean to him. I remember what he said word for word. ‘I don’t feel alone anymore when I am with you. I feel like when you’re with me, I have everything I could ever ask for. I feel as if I had never felt lonely a day in my life.’ Those words made me smile. He also smiled back at me.

In the now he’s going to be 20 soon. His years of becoming a man are growing near. Knowing he was growing older, and I forever would be like this, began to pain me. I knew as he grew that he was getting closer and closer to the end of his days. I hated the thought of that. I didn’t want to see this mortal die and wither away like the others. I wanted him to stay, to breathe an immortal life, for I felt he deserved it.

On the first cold night of winter, I came to him, and I looked at him in the eyes. He looked back into mine. He then grabbed my hands and said to me, “I . . . really want to tell you that I . . . really like you.” He found it hard to spit out all the words. His shyness was getting the best of him and I simply smiled.

I leaned in close to him and whispered to him, “I know.” He smiled wide, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close. I could feel all of the emotions bottled up inside him, emotions he’s wanted to express for years but has never been able to. There was so much love and sadness and pain inside him, more than I ever felt in any mortal in my life.
His deepest emotions and desires filled me. He wanted me to love him back desperately, and he wanted to express just how much he desired me, for I was the only female being in his life who stayed. All of it was overflowing him on the inside. It was like he was reaching an edge, like he can’t take it anymore. I began to cry. I did not bother to feel him like this before, and I should have years ago. I could have saved him a lot of suffering and a lot of tears. Concern filled his eyes and covered his face, and I looked up at him and said, “I’m sorry.”

huge & little dragon together sm

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If you wish to contact the Author J.R. Snow
Please Feel Free to Use the Contact Windows Below

“Tears” Part One “The Mortal” – A Short Story

a writer's word polished or raw

*      *       *       *       *       *       *

I would like to introduce to you J.R. Snow, a young emerging writer.
A major influence in J.R.’s writing is the magical & spiritual
interconnectedness between Dragons & people.

I am delighted to open up ‘the secret keeper’ to present J.R.’s work.
Whenever he has written something he feels he would like to share,
I will post his work here as a Guest Artist.

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

Tears” – A Short Story
In Three Parts
The Mortal” – Part One
Written by Guest Writer J.R. Snow
Post Sunday 22nd June 2014

“Only love can reach into a human’s heart, piece it back together and make it more beautiful.”

white dragon jr snow

“The Mortal”
by J.R. Snow

I have lived for so many years. So many centuries have I watched as mortal creatures wither and die, their soul passing from this world. Some come back but some go elsewhere, to another world, another realm where their desires and questions rest. I have lived many mortal lives, for I am timeless, a being of infinite life. Through all of these years I have felt so many different kinds of pain, happiness, anger, sadness and love. However, despite all of my knowledge and wisdom, loneliness always reaches for me.

Out of all my years of living, learning, observing, I see that mortals are capable of so much. It saddens me to see that they are finite, for they are capable of so much, yet their deepest darkness holds them back from greatness. But they are capable of wisdom and knowledge like us, and despite their counted days, they are also capable of love that outlasts even their lifetime.

Not all of us see what I see in them. Some see them as “lesser” life forms, a parasite, a sickness, something that should not exist. It is sad that not all can see it, for they hold a beauty and kindness that we have ourselves, and that is the ability to create something that lasts forever, rather it be love or knowledge. And they can do it without needing all of the time the universe offers.

However, this story is not about them, but it is about one. One I know. One I have watched. One I admire greatly. I have seen him grow from a child to a young man. While I am not human like him, I could become one if I desired. He finds me fascinating and beautiful, for he tells me with a smile on his face and shyness in his voice. While I have seen so many mortal men who are ruthless, crude or vile, he was anything but. Despite his youth, deep down I still see that innocent child who desires nothing but to be happy.

I remember the day when he came to me in tears. He was seventeen. In my human form, I wrapped my arms around him and said, “What is wrong hun?” Such a word brings him comfort.

He responded with, “I’ve been alone for so long. I have no friends to bond with and no woman who feels affection for me. I have never felt so alone in my life.” Such words tore me apart. Hearing him cry was painful, for I desired nothing but happiness for him, and seeing tears come from his eyes only made me feel like I had failed to bring it to him.

huge & little dragon together sm

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If you wish to contact the Author J.R. Snow
Please Feel Free To Use the Contact Windows Below

Special Edition: Maya Angelou R.I.P.

special edition day any
Maya Angelou R.I.P.

Special Edition

Post Created by Jennifer Kiley

Post Wednesday 28th May 2014


Poet, author Maya Angelou dies at 86

maya angelou insightful

Hillel Italie
May 28, 2014
Filed 03:59 PM EST

NEW YORK (AP) — Maya Angelou, a modern Renaissance woman who survived the harshest of childhoods to become a force on stage, screen, the printed page and the inaugural dais, died Wednesday, her son said. She was 86.

Angelou’s son, Guy B. Johnson, said the writer died at her home in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, where she had been a professor of American studies at Wake Forest University since 1982.

Tall and regal, with a deep, majestic voice, Angelou defied all probability and category, becoming one of the first black women to enjoy mainstream success as an author and thriving in virtually every artistic medium. The young single mother who worked at strip clubs to earn a living later wrote and recited the most popular presidential inaugural poem in history. The childhood victim of rape wrote a million-selling memoir, befriended Malcolm X, Nelson Mandela and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., and performed on stages around the world.

An actress, singer and dancer in the 1950s and 1960s, she broke through as an author in 1969 with “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,” which became standard (and occasionally censored) reading, and was the first of a multipart autobiography that continued through the decades. In 1993, she was a sensation reading her cautiously hopeful “On the Pulse of the Morning” at President Bill Clinton’s first inauguration. Her confident performance openly delighted Clinton and made the poem a best-seller, if not a critical favorite.


The Following Video is Maya Angelou speaking for herself.

Here, I Give You, Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou [Director's Cut] – Cole Haan

A Writer’s Diary: Virginia Woolf —Part #4

a writer's diary
Virginia Woolf – Part #4
Excerpts from Virginia Woolf
Created by Jennifer Kiley
Created 25th February 2014
Posted Sunday 23rd March 2014

Virginia Woolf 1

Virginia Woolf

A Writer’s Diary
Virginia Woolf – Part #4

January 20th, 1919,
Woolf at 36-years
9 days before
her 37th Birthday

If Virginia Woolf
at the age
of 50,

when she sits down
to build
her memoirs
out of
these books,

is unable
to make
a phrase
as it
should be

I can
only condole
with her

remind her
of the existence
of the fireplace,

where she
has my leave
to burn
these pages

to so
many black
with red eyes
in them.

But how
I envy her
the task

I am
for her!

There is

I should


Virginia Woolf's Monk's House Garden

Virginia Woolf’s Monk’s House Garden

virginia woolf 3

Virginia Woolf

Erik Satie: Gnossienne No. 1, 2, 3

A Writer’s Diary: Virginia Woolf — Part #2

a writer's diary
Virginia Woolf — Part #2
Excerpts from Virginia Woolf
Created by Jennifer Kiley
Created DATE 2014
Posted Sunday 9th March 2014

Virginia Woolf 1

Virginia Woolf

A Writer’s Diary 
Virginia Woolf – Part #2

Leonard Woolf
Virginia’s husband
In the introduction
A Writer’s Diary

The diary is too personal
To be published as a whole
During the lifetime
Of many people
Referred to in it.

It is
I think
Nearly always a mistake
To publish extracts
From diaries or letters

If the omissions
Have to be made
In order to protect
The feelings
Or reputations
Of the living.

The omissions
Almost always distort
Or conceal
The true character
Of the diarist
Or letter-writer

And produce
What an Academy picture
Does materially

Smoothing out
The wrinkles
And asperities.

At the best
And even unexpurgated
Diaries give a distorted
Or one-sided portrait
Of the writer


As Virginia Woolf
Herself remarks

In these diaries

One gets
Into the habit
Of recording
One particular
Kind of mood

Or misery,

And of not
Writing one’s diary
When one is feeling
The opposite.

The portrait is
From the start

If someone
Then deliberately
Another characteristic

It may well
A mere

— Leonard Woolf
[Virginia's Husband]

Virginia Woolf's Monk's House Garden

Virginia Woolf’s Monk’s House Garden

virginia woolf 3

Virginia Woolf

Erik Satie: Gnossienne No. 1, 2, 3

A Writer’s Diary: Virginia Woolf — Part #1

a writer's diary
Virginia Woolf – Part #1
Excerpts from Virginia Woolf
Created by Jennifer Kiley
Created 8th February 2014
Posted Sunday 2nd March 2014

Virginia Woolf 1

Virginia Woolf

A Writer’s Diary
Virginia Woolf – Part #1

in Virginia Woolf’s words,
the major reasons why
it is an essential means
to learn writing
by keeping a writer’s diary.

It exercises your mind,
no censorship,
and someday
you can use
to create
your own

In “The Writer’s Diary,”
Virginia Woolf, herself,
wrote unedited,
free flow,
stream of consciousness
and is
quite intelligent.

In the opening,
some words
from Leonard Woolf,
Virginia Woolf’s husband.

I find
a real
Virginia Woolf.

I feel
as if I can
hear her voice
her words.

The excerpts
will be
an ongoing

Virginia Woolf's Monk's House Garden

Virginia Woolf’s Monk’s House Garden

virginia woolf 3

Virginia Woolf

The Major Difference Between Professional And Amateur Writers

tell me a story
The Major Difference Between Professional And Amateur Writers
Speaker: John Truby
Notations by Jennifer Kiley
Created 17th December 2013
Posted Thursday 30th January 2014

The Major Difference Between Professional And Amateur Writers by John Truby

Not fearing the voices inside of you, you won’t fear the criticism outside of you.
That is being professional.

Fear of criticism is the biggest mark of an amateur. Amateurs do not want to take

What you have in your script is laying yourself bare. So when someone is critical,
it feels the same as if they were telling you they don’t like you.

To become a great writer you have to listen to criticism.

“Not even a great writer can write the perfect script.”

Most people are not capable of giving constructive criticism. Giving your writing
to a family member is not a great idea. They will have trouble being honest. And
may not know what they are talking about.

Be open to outside criticism and that you are getting criticism from those who know
what they are talking about. They will tell you what is not working. This is helpful.
Then you know what to work on to make your writing better.

Writers should want to get constructive criticism which will improve their craft.

Highly recommend forming a writers group with some of the best writers you know.
Getting feedback from other writers, you know you are getting more accurate feedback
from under the surface because they know more about what you are doing than the
average person.

Notations by Jennifer Kiley

Private Writings: Chapter #44 — Secrets and Signs

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #44 — Secrets and Signs

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 21st January 2014




Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell,
psychoanalyst extraordinaire,
storytelling using letters, dreams, thoughts, poems, images,
music, art, scripts, psychotherapy, psychoanalysis,
inspirations, reflective comments, inner/outer workings
mind, soul, body, emotions, bipolar, mentally creative, interesting,
brain misfiring; abuse, crashes, near drownings,
hallucinations, heightened sexuality, time warps,
finding answers, unsolved mysteries, infatuations,
imagination, fantasy, discover self, soul, eternal serenity, bliss

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #44 — Secrets and Signs

Tuesday 15th July 2008

Dear Annie,

I want to talk about my feelings for you. It never seems convenient for me to be open with you. What I feel, is something I don’t understand. No one ever taught me what love is. Love has been mixed up inside my head. It makes me feel I am bad for feeling love.

The truth. I was abused growing up. My family’s incest was sexual, sadistic and emotional abuse. Their white painted mansion was the playground for their sinder girl. Don’t know respect. She needs to learn she is nothing. A place I was the center of the abuse. That’s what I called home. I didn’t think of it that way. Not a place of love and nurturing for me. Every horrible experience I felt as a child happened in that place of horror. It wasn’t safe anywhere inside that house. Taking walks in the woods was dangerous. Our grounds were extensive. Someone seemed always to be watching me. Eventually they always found me. And I would be alone and vulnerable.

My father used me to get his friends to do him favors. I was their reward. They just took me away. One man, I remember someone calling him something official. Held a government position, and he was a child molester and rapist. That was dangerous. One of the times I was alone with him. He had started touching me. His hand felt like needles were piercing my skin. I wanted him to stop. My hand pushed his away. We even spoke out loud. “Please don’t touch me or I will tell.” A thought I had tried before without the threat of telling. Telling made it more dangerous. This brought on convincing threats of, “I’ll kill your family if you say a word.” His words were not a lie. He showed me by trying to kill me in that very moment. He stopped himself before he went to far but his eyes told me, he would kill them, and probably me too. No, he would definitely have me killed.

What could I do. Keep silent. No one ever talked about it. It felt like I was alone. No one else. It wasn’t happening to anyone else. They would feel I was worthless and contaminated. No one would care about me. No one does now. I will just leave everyone out of this. I am too embarrassed to say a word. Too ashamed.

I am living surrounded by abusers or the abused? Yes, I had another sibling who did not escape. He is locked up and catatonic now. The only time he is not catatonic is when all he can do is scream my name out that he wants to kill me. I am his betrayer. No idea why he thinks I betrayed him. All my life I have tried to protect him. It was all a secret. One day he blurted out, our oldest brother fucked him when he was little. I was fragile when he told me this. It made me freak out.

I turned to a female friend I had a crush on. She tried to help. But she had depressing news, to me it was. Why in that moment? Her boyfriend proposed to her. They were going to get married right away. It meant her moving away. I was struck by the deepest depression. She did move away after the wedding. Gone. I lost her. She was my first friend. She was the first person I told about the abuse. Not the whole nightmare. Just I had been abused. No one can handle the while thing. I can’t even handle it. Overload.

My friend was gone. I had no more focus. She kept me alive by being my friend. I loved her. She was the only person I could love. I thought she loved me enough to want to stay in my life. But she didn’t. My depression made me believe everything was over. I was despondent. I lost all reason to live. There was no one left to love. It was when I thought about my bottle of pills.

I sat on the edge of my bed. Taking the open bottle of pills, I poured out the content, a handful at a time. The darkness was pulling me deeper inside of it. The music was playing softly. Soon I would be asleep forever. Would my friend miss me if I were dead. The letter I wrote to her was about love. In the letter I wrote to my mother, I told her she finally got what she wanted. Me. Dead.

My head felt heavy as I lay down at the foot of my bed. All the pills were gone. Sleep felt like it was pulling me in. My mind was filled with the friend I loved. We were only teenagers. Who ends their life so early? Life was destroying me. Being alive without her was unthinkable, to painful, impossible. It was almost over. I was nearing the end of pain.

As you can see I am writing to you now. It was difficult but somehow I stopped the process from concluding. No one helped me back from that edge. I saved myself alone. No one ever knew. Just one more secret. My suicide attempt gave me the courage to seek out professional help. It was right after that night. I live with the thoughts of suicide too frequently. It runs through my mind and my life like a shadow of temptation. More the thinking about it then the doing now.

Lets change this up and take it to a totally different place. Back to my feelings about love. I know you know what love is. You make me feel it whenever I am around you. The words you say to me. I feel your love. No one has ever been as kind to me as you. What is important is I don’t know what I would do without you if you ever disappeared. It would crush me inside. I would want to die.

I see the words I use and wonder whether I can trust you not to be afraid of my feelings of love. If I told you I love you, would it make you want to run away? I fear the worse.

If you really knew what goes on inside of me, it’s the sound of confusion. Being bipolar for a long time has messed with my life. Awhile ago, I had a therapist and psychiatrist diagnose me with DID. It was a fucked up diagnosis I lived with for years. She even wanted me to name my alters and describe their characteristics. It was a curious perspective from which to think about myself. I really did split apart with the diagnosis. Was it thinking I had DID that caused the transformation? Or did I always have alters and worked through the phases and went through integration. I am not at all sure.

Sybill, the film with Sally Fields and Joanne Woodward, made me want her doctor. Being held and believed. To feel her arms around me and her eyes comforting me. This leads me to the truth. Truth is important to me. I don’t lie. There’s no sense to it. Simply put, I want you, Annie. To be like her doctor. If I could return to being a little girl again, with you. You could be the person who cared for me. It would feel more perfect then I could expect. It would make the world right for me. Is it possible for you to love me?

I better stop now. There is much more but I will save it for the next letter. Right now I am worried what I have already asked you in this letter. Is it going to make you feel angry or uncomfortable, or is it going to make you go away? Will you go away? Please don’t. I’m feeling a strong urge not to show you this letter. Maybe if I express myself in a poem and paint what I feel instead. It is more abstract. It may make more sense. Being understood is an obsession.

“Time for time and traveling with circuses must end. It is time to soar through the time barrier into all moments in the Universe.”

So, until I see you, I end with my favorite quote from the film Brief Sacrifice.

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

I end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”

Loving You Fondly,



© madison taylor 2008

Bejin - Artist David Agenjo

Bejin – Artist David Agenjo

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

Bouquet of Roses and other Flowers - Artist Henri Fantin Latour

Bouquet of Roses and other Flowers – Artist Henri Fantin Latour

rain in garden gif

Shattered Love
By Madison Taylor
8th July 2008
Narrative Haiku

Shattered love breaks hearts
Are bleeding out on the ground
Why do I not cry?

Feelings have been crushed
Inside pain reflects harming
Take your hands off me

Skin feels bruises swell
Carving time on flesh burning
Memories remain

Giving birth no love
Start with hate never caring
Nurture not given

Meet an attraction
Is it love or sexual
Healing the inside

Touching with lightness
Need a gentle hand soothing
Trust is taming wild

One stroke of the hand
Is enough to begin love
Learning soft teaching

© madison taylor 2008

Illuminating Shadows - Artist Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2008

Illuminating Shadows – Artist Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2007

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana