I was born for this. I LOVE writing and creating a storyline with characters that feel real and stories that give me all the feels.
MY STORY AND POETRY
Growing up, I struggled with telling people what I was feeling and going through. It was always easier to express myself through my writing. But, it wasn’t until 2021 that I finally began to share things I'd written and challenged myself to become a published writer. Thank goodness I did! I'm now the published author of The Homecoming and Truth Hurts.
I always strive to learn and develop my literary style and voice, approaching every challenge I come across as an experience to grow and develop as a writer. To find out more or to discuss a potential writing project, please don’t hesitate to contact me.
How Do I Let Go?
I'm screaming inside but the words won't come out. I want to rage. To stomp. To scream. To Shout.
Denial is here with an ache from the ages. I stare up, then down, then at my blank pages.
Can I write about love when my heart is in tatters? Can I make jokes or sense? Does it even matter?
Can I cease to exist or push back the pain? Is there any reason to try and stay?
Can I let go? Can I forgive myself? Or do I deserve to go through this hell?
For believing that I deserve to be happy. That the pain of this fight is too much to handle?
Can I let go? Can I turn into the wind, that's blowing my failure into my face again?
Or should I give in to the pressure and let hope die? Or believe that somehow, someway, self love I might find?
And if I stop fighting, then give in to self doubt, is there any chance that my soul will get out?
Anger comes stronger, then bitterness too. For how can I ever stop loving you?
Am I broken or wrong or ten ways out of sort? Will the day ever come that I don't feel the doubt?
Can we heal all the pain from the ten lives we've lived? Because apart or together, this time was a gift.
I'm better for the love we've had, even though right now it hurts so fucking bad.
I love you; my lips want the scream again.But I press them together.
Those words only bring another round of doubting this storm I CAN weather.
Dear Asshole,
My heart throbs, then lurches to a stop. Through the pain lodged in my throat, I stare in disbelief. In this moment, for the first time, the truth becomes crystal clear. You do not love me.
For how could one who loves me look so coldly upon my pain? My weakness is laid out before me. My naivety a pill too hard to swallow. I have given my life to this. Every molecule of myself turned into game pieces that I put on the board, hoping to give our relationship the ultimate chance for success. So much so, that those game pieces have been worn down with age and use, having been thrown about and abused. My dirty laundry has been aired out a thousand times for all the world to see. And all of this, in high hopes, with me wanting to give our relationship the best chance at success.
We never talk about the fact that your laundry stays folded and nicely put away where it belongs. Your ugliest parts tucked neatly inside. A common courtesy, that I thought I was doing for you. After all, who wants the world staring at their dirty smudged underwear?
But as I stare at you this time, the truth becomes evident. It is indisputable. You do not love me.
I’m taken aback by the power that fills me with the truth of that realization. It occurs to me, what I would do if I saw your dirty underwear exposed for all the world to see. For I’d sooner have the world see my own failures than to put you through the pain that comes with the scrutiny of judgement.
But here’s the curveball that neither of us saw coming. I aired myself out. The Good. The Terrible. The Ugly. And all for the simple chance to feel loved. And in this moment, I’m struck by just how much I deserved to see this truth. For as the truth revealed me through your eyes, she also brought another gift. The gift of Self Love.
You see, in all the time I spent trying to prove my worth and love to you, what I was actually learning, was how to value myself. So, here’s one last toast to you and my need for you to love me. Lift a glass high and I’ll cheer for you with great enthusiasm.
And then you can spend the rest of eternity dwelling on my dirty, smelly, laundry. Or, you can choose to get over yourself and realize that just because your underwear is still buried in the closet, doesn’t mean it’s clean or streak free. It only means that I had enough love and respect for you to leave it where it belongs.
And the good news is? It doesn't really matter which you choose. At least, not for me. Because from now on, I’m choosing to respect and love myself enough to do the same. So, next time you want to play chess... buy a damn chess board. We’ll see who wins when the pieces being used aren’t broken shards of my self-confidence.
You’ll find my game to be much more on point when my own failures aren’t staring back at me with every single move. You'll also find me to be a much stronger adversary.
Oh, and just in case it still needs to be said, Checkmate, Asshole. I’ll see you again next match and you’d better believe that I’ll not stop fighting for a win just to feed your ego.
Love Heart.
Pieces of My Career
I’ve put together a selection of my most recent and memorable work. I’m proud of each and every piece in my Author Portfolio, and hope you will enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. For any inquiries, please get in touch.
THE SCREAMÂ Â A. R. O'BRIEN
My tears fall warm upon my cheeks. I'm alone with too much time to think.
I wonder if I matter. I wonder if anyone cares.
I wonder, do I matter in the fabric of time? I haven't saved a world from hunger, nor have I kept the world safe.
I haven't inspired women to rise up or the timid to take a stand.
Around me the world moves on. Pain, loss, and loneliness the loudest sound.
So loud that I feel like I might implode. And yet here in this moment, I AM here. I care. I love. I've lost and I've paid the price that life demanded. Blood, sweat, and tears have soaked my clothes.
So why do I feel so alone? Up the street a child is crying. Next door I hear a couple fighting.
I haven't paid my bills this month and my family is too busy to hear my pain. A dog barks out and then another. The screaming child runs from his mother.
Inside, it all becomes a scream, my here and now, a piercing theme.
I look up at the evening sky as the pain inside lifts from my lips in a shriek. The pain of loneliness lifts in ear piercing gales. I want to turn away in shame, to go inside with my self-blame.
To my surprise the neighbors stop fighting as the woman walks outside. She looks over at me and I feel ashamed as I think she might complain. Instead, she lifts her own lips to the sky and joins in.
More dogs yelp and the child still screams. Then up the street I see another join in and another and another.
As a chill runs down my spine with freedom at the curdling screams of pain that echo out across the city, I'm reminded that we all have pain inside.
A pain that life demanded.
In that I'll never be alone.
As my screams and theirs finally fade into the darkness, I smile. For one moment I've connected. And even though from now on I'll likely be known as the girl who screamed for a city, I feel more real now.
It's a small thing and yet it means the world. People may judge, or laugh, or snort but at least I know I'm not alone.
The scream is a testament to the pain that we're all required by life to survive. As I walk inside my cheeks are dry and I wonder, what will tomorrow bring?
HEART SONG
By A. R. O'Brien
​
My heart aches black
My eyes see red
I can't see forward
I might be dead
Then again, I might be here
A living form of pain and fear
My tears run dark upon my cheeks
The truth and love are what I seek
Am I alive or am I dead,
I reach up to my aching head
My thoughts run rampant cruel and harsh
Is Love real or just a farce
Can I exist inside my pain
Is there anything in it to be gained
My heart says "yes" with a steady rhythm
Growing stronger each beat, my soul's anthem
True love comes from deep within
My heart the source of strength and freedom
To be okay to love myself
To say I am the voice of well
I open my eyes and I can see
A world in need of love from me
People in pain, people alone
But I am here my voice a song
Call out in pain,
Release the anger
You're beautiful
In spite of the anguish
I hear your call, your voice, your scream
I offer love, acceptance and freedom
Whenever you question if you're enough
You're not alone I’m here with love
I accept me and I accept you
I love me and I love you
I feel your pain, I feel mine too
You're beautiful all parts of you
You were born precious and perfect
Your soul came in divinely connected
To every part of you and they
A life of challenges molded away
But now your better than you were
Beautiful, strong, and sure
Of who you are and your soul's intention
Strong enough now to withstand rejection
Welcome to life, welcome home,
You belong here with your unique song
WITHOUT APOLOGY
By A. R. O'Brien
Out by the river I found solace today,
out by the river where the Alligators play.
The Breeze said "Come and sit with me,"
the chill in the air spoke of Autumn to be.
I shivered and sat and enjoyed the view,
overwhelmed with emotions I sorted through.
Do I deserve to be alive?
Am I worthy of this life?
Does anyone out there really care?
Or would they simple stop and stare?
The hum of running water filled my ears,
The birds song came through loud and clear.
A puppy came sniffing at my feet,
as though he sensed my great defeat.
A fisherman tossed another line,
the water rippled out through space and time.
Taking me to another place,
where love and kindness were a normal state.
A squirrel chirped from up above,
nearby I thought I saw a dove.
And then the truth revealed herself,
Nature doesn't wait for anyone else.
Wind blows strong, her choice, her call,
In spite of branches that may break or fall.
River flows true no end in sight,
not caring if it's day or night.
Bird and Squirrel take what they need,
never stopping to worry about their greed.
So why do I wonder if it's okay,
to ask for enough to get by today?
The only one who limits me, is me.
I'm worthy just by being me.
If everything in nature took time to feel bad,
we'd all be dead, which I think is sad.
Next time I wonder if I'm enough,
to ask for life and love,
I'll remember the spider who spun her web,
to catch her prey so she can live.
It's up to me to live my life,
the way I need to, to feel alive.
​
RECENT POETRY PUBLISHED ON VOCAL.COM
A recent piece published on Vocal. Original Artwork by Jordan O'Brien
The Devil on My Heels
Last night I had a dream so intensely real, my wings thick with feathers, were soft to feel.
A voice behind me startled me, I turned, the devil horned, to see.
I felt a scream tear from my lips, as the shadow lurched, and jumped, and dipped.
Dark wings took me up into the sky, as below I heard the devil cry.
She wants my soul, my heart, my mind, I feel her somewhere deep inside.
Her voice rang out, called for my life, wanting my heart to cringe, and die.
Spiteful words flew out as she followed me, then she grasped at my wings so angrily.
I hate you!
You are never enough!
You are nothing!
Tears fell as the words tore into my flesh, I tried to fight them off, before they could mesh.
Defeat lowered me to the ground again, I tried to run, to escape, to defend!
But the devil chased closely on my heels, so desperately I turned my face to appeal.
Shock ran down my back as cold as ice, as I glimpsed her face, a heart-stopping sight!
Familiar eyes, familiar mouth, gasping loudly, I tried to cry out.
I am her and she is me, the devil inside turns out to be!
My own doubting voice says I'm not enough, and I can never re-fill my own cup.
Always talking down and hating myself, wondering why I can't get love from somebody else.
Before my gaze the devil's face turned bright, her smile lit up, a beautiful sight.
As I finally stepped forward to embrace her, I abruptly awoke from my dreaming slumber.
When my eyes finally opened to the world around me, I whispered, "Today I choose to respect and love me."
Original poetry by A.R.O'Brien

A. R. O'Brien
Baring Soul
​
My heart thunders loudly. Have I said too much?
I can't take back the words.
Am I too honest? Too broken? Too real?
​
Can I undo the tarnish I see on your face?
I stretch myself thin wanting nothing more that to stretch and conform.
To erase the horror in your gaze.
Inside my heart stutters.
My throat closes off.
I've been here before.
The figure of scoff and of scorn.
A thousand times have I stared into eyes, full of judgment, and hatred, and unpleasant suprise.
​
Can anyone handle who I really am?
Should I hunch down my shoulders and shuffle away?
Should I whore myself out to the mighty, the stave?
Or should I stand tall and declare what I am?
Should I be willing or happy to take a stand?
​
I know what I'll do before my lungs fill with air.
Fetal for me was born on my knees, in servitude to someone better than me.
I knelt that way until I realized, that I wasn't born to be another's prize.
​
I wish I could be different, wish I could bow down. And I wish that for once I didn't have to astound.
I was born into chains, but I broke them to pieces, shattering minds and hearts as I rose from bloodied knees.
​
The price I pay Is a high one.
I never fit in.
To the box, or the bowl, or the one on the pedestal.
I'm broken and raw. I'm a mess of hard words.
I'm real and tangent, I don't belong in a herd.
It's been year after year, so many years,yet still I stand hoping for acceptance through tears.
​
I can see by your face I missed the mark again.
A part of me wants to fall on my knees like a wreck.
To wrap your chains around my wrists and my neck.
But the same me who broke free and rose from the ground, shakes a long practiced finger.
​
I refuse to give something I don't want to give.
I don't owe you a thing, even though you might think it.
I'm a voice too, a vote, and a song.
I matter too, even broken and wrong.
I'll take my stand then the room will go quiet.
It's the way of the prodigal daughter's sonnet.
I'm familiar with the pain and the joy.
My callouses hard, a survivor's ploy.
The risk is worth it.
I'll walk away knowing once again, that I'm a treasure even if I'm the only one who knows it.
​
