the love in films
i think of unrequited love as the painful, hidden kind shown with a forlorn nostalgia in films, the same way you probably do. you know, the book shop assistant utterly head over heels with the customer who dutifully buys a new book from the harlem renaissance every week.
it is never declared, perhaps with a stolen glance but never with words written so well as the customer’s lived in artists. we view it as a love that will never be given a stage but the actors in it are still conducting their parts with great emotion and authenticity, so we watch and think oh poor you for never knowing true beautiful love, forgetting the pain it brings.
it is why i have found it so hard to understand my unrequited love, because mine does not have a naive poetry lover nor a desperate shop assistant. mine is living and breathing every day, not as rose tinted as in films but it swarms around me, reminding me love has levels and depths i cannot control every damn day i see you.
i love at a depth so blackenly deep to me it wrenches my tight aortic valve open to know that your love sits at a depth that still allows you to see the sun beckoning its way through the blue shallows of the surface, something i have not seen in all the time i know you and nor do i want to because please, i beg, please join me in this depth, our depth, the one i lose myself in to you but no, instead
we sit here, and think of the love in films
knowing they would be easier to watch
than this depth i swim in
From an early age Cassandra has adored language and literature. She has long been fascinated by those who could make words dance and unite in pages and books, only realising later in life her love of it would teach her how to do it too.
Never one to be a wallflower, Cassandra writes powerful prose focused on core human emotions and if you ever meet her you will see her before you hear her due to her very questionable dress sense.
How writing has affected Cassandra's wellbeing:
"In the last few years writing has become the most important way I express myself, often when my mental health is at its lowest, and sometimes is the only way.
Writing is my sanctuary, a place where language helps to make sense of my chaotic, miswired brain, bringing me comfort and joy."