Aieniel

"Freckles"

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06/25/2013 by Aieniel, literature

Literature

06/25/2013

Dad, I’m thirty weeks along in my pregnancy today. My mind has been swirling with anxieties and problems, overlaid with the fear of not being ready for this child to come into the world in less than ten weeks. I’m so in love with this baby boy, so excited to finally meet him that I know the time will fly by before I can blink. But I’m torn about my due date. The day this little one is expected to make an appearance is on September 3rd. Adam and I were married on the 6th of September last year. And in 2011, you died on September 10th. That time of year is so joyous and trying, hurtful and blessed. I don’t know if I c

09/16/2012 by Aieniel, literature

Literature

09/16/2012

Dad, I’ve been married for ten days, and you died a exactly a year and 6 days ago. I cannot reflect upon this year without seeing the main point: losing you. Everything pales in comparison. I was on my honeymoon when the first anniversary of your death came about. I didn’t think of you at all that day, until it was almost passed. And I felt so guilty and disgusted that I had actually felt happy. My husband and I took a hike in Tennessee, to the top of a mountain. I was so awed by the sight of swaying trees, and felt so connected to God and nature, that you were swept clean from my thoughts. I like to believe that you had some pa

04/27/2013 by Aieniel, literature

Literature

04/27/2013

Dad, Does falling in love mean losing oneself? What happens when the ones you love leave, and how can you press the loneliness and disorientation away? Can we be whole within ourselves, or are we molded by the ones we allow into our inner thoughts and feelings? It’s difficult for me in this moment. I waver between exuberant joy about the life growing and shaping inside of me, and a hollowness that threatens to consume my thoughts. I continue to miss you, and I wonder how you would react to the knowledge that my child is a boy. I’m reassured by the kicks and movements made by the tiny one I already love so entirely. I like to be

02/03/2013 by Aieniel, literature

Literature

02/03/2013

Dad, I’ve had this continual conversation with you in my head every day. I’ll tell you about my life, how much I miss you, how badly we still need you here. It’s hard to understand the silence that comes from your death. For a long time after you died, I hoped that you would contact me. Tell me you were somehow at peace, in a better place, or one of the cliche hopes every living person wished for someone who has passed. I hoped I would dream of you, in vivid reality, and I would have this one chance to tell you how much you mean to me. There’s a song lyric that whenever I hear it, I can’t help but cry. I ran

06/15/2012 by Aieniel, literature

Literature

06/15/2012

Dear Dad, Father's day is Sunday. It's snuck up on me, and I've tried my very best to ignore it. But, my plans for that day are simple. I'm going to see Ayla, and we're going to try our hardest not to cry and miss you too much. I regret every day. Every single fucking day I didn't speak to you. Or tell you how much you meant to me. It's cruel, this searing and mind-numbing pain. I miss you, and every morning when I wake up, the box that contains your ashes is the first thing I see. I hate the pity I see in people's eyes when I talk about you. I see how they wince when I use past-tense, and reminisce about all the times I spent with you.

05/26/2012 by Aieniel, literature

Literature

05/26/2012

Dear Dad, Tomorrow I turn 23. It's my first birthday without you, and I know how much I'm going to miss that long, tight hug you always would give me at nostalgic moments. No one ever warned me about forgetting. Everyone said that a lot of the pain would become bearable in time, but what they neglected to mention was that it came at the cost of losing your little intricacies. I can't hear your laugh anymore in my mind, and I'm afraid I'm forgetting how your eyes wrinkled when you laughed. Or how you rolled your eyes at something that annoyed you. It's still painful to talk about you, about all you are missing. I hate how grief feels like

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night before dawn by TheGlome, literature

Literature

night before dawn

oh, the night, her closing mouth and starving stars the clouds lit like street-light-fires the earth old, eaten, cold i am here to wish you away, away, you holding thing break your enveloping fingers and throw broken bones to growing sun in sky. for in me is becoming something and it is the thing your shadows could never eat. i feel the glowing dawn throw down his arms in waves of light the air, broken and still, the sparrows perched in waiting this hush holds the ground as light sweeps the dirt clean of night's jealous grip.

Deviation Spotlight

Park Headquarters by Aieniel, visual art

Park Headquarters

Aieniel

About Aieniel

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Artist // Hobbyist // Photography

May 27
United States
Deviant for 17 years
She / Her

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My Bio

I'm a strawberry blond woman who loves the beach, photography, psychology, and the ocean. My nickname is Freckles, because I look like a human dalmatian. I'm the oldest of 9 children, not all blood related. I'm studying ASL, and want to be an interpreter one day. I hate self-portraits, but figure that I'd put a few up so people would know what I look like. I think that music is the only thing that holds me together. Like John Lennon said, "It's the only thing that makes sense anymore."

Current Residence: Ft. Lauderdale. Fla, USA
Favourite genre of music: Grunge, Punk, Rock
MP3 player of choice: Zune
Skin of choice: Mine?
Favourite cartoon character: Roger Rabbit & Jessica Rabbit
Personal Quote: Know how sublime a thing is to suffer and be strong

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Bush

Favourite Books

House Of Leaves, The Hobbit, Slapstick, Slaughterhouse Five

Favourite Writers

Vonnegut, Danielewski, Rice, Tolkien

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Aieniel

Aug 18, 2009

The Pitter-Patter Of Summer Rain

0 min read

There's something so potent about rain. The warm, summer rain which makes South Florida hot and muggy, coating the inside of my lungs, warming me from the inside out. I've fallen in love with the fertile smell of rain on the wind, the way the colors of the world are brought to life before a sudden onslaught of water and lightning. It makes everything so vibrant and breathing, if I were a painter I'd be jealous of the palette God has in his hand. There's nothing I can do to imitate such aliveness. The pure sound of rushing wind, of splashes of raindrops against my windows, brings me back to a younger version of myself, drunk on the wonder of

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Aieniel

Feb 11, 2009

The Imagery of Dreams

0 min read

I'm finding that my dreams are in words now, instead of the flashes of scenes and vivid emotions. It's scary for me. I hardly ever dream of anything. I almost always sleep in oblivion. The darkness and blankness soothes me. But now, as my dreams are words, my world is turning into an exercise in writing. It's all still related to my nighttime experiences. Lines of prose flitter through my head while I sleep. Lovely things haunt me. It frustrates me again that I can't feel that in my writings. But I am writing again. Slowly, maddeningly I'm becoming obsessed with literature. More than anything now, I want to feel something emanate from my w

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Profile Comments 42

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sweetsmcguire

Jun 23, 2009

Hello!

Your art has been featured here!

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AphotoFrenzy

Apr 17, 2009

:camara: hey, have you talked to my mom at ll since she's been down there?
becuase i dont want things to be weird if you come up before camp...

p.s. she's not mad at you, just talk to her.

Aieniel

Apr 17, 2009

Yeah I've talked to her! I know she wasn't mad at me! lmao, I knew she probably had a bad day. So it's no biggie! <3