Apr 02

Try—

I have forgotten just how difficult it is to leave someone. It really tears you apart, I think, and will stick with you for such a long time. A boy I know, who I did—and still do—consider my first boyfriend, broke my heart. Repeatedly. And I don't think he's a bad person intentionally, (though my best friend thinks differently) but there's something about heartbreak. You cannot truly forgive someone. At least not for a very long time. And redeeming yourself is a long and complicated process. Many choose another path. Sometimes, friendships and relationships are not rebuilt, and two individuals will live without peace for decades, if not longer. 

I am trying my best to forgive, but it is a dangerous game—too many times I have caught myself at the wrong hand of kindness, and it has not served me well. 

Jan 20

Inauguration Day Thoughts

It's 9:27 P.M. I'm sitting alone, in my bed, and my head is racing. 

America. What do you think of when the word pops up in your mind, on your feed, flashing across your TV screen? Right now, I'm pretty damn sure that the answers aren't as great as a lot of people would hope. 
Jan 10

December 24th, 1938

Fictional account that I made of World War ll that I was kinda into. Enjoy, history nerds.
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December 24th, 1938
Berlin, Germany
Someday, I'm going to be traumatized. Someday, I'm going to hate myself, everyone else, and the world. But, right now, I don't have the time. The fight against the Nazis is constant, a terrifying spin of death and fear that taints our hearts and minds. The same thoughts flood my head, just like so many others; "What are we doing? Are we doing it right? Are we going to survive?"

Terror is just as heady as happiness, really. It clogs street drains like acid rain, dark and damp, suffocating and awful, weighing on our bodies, our skulls, our lungs. 

Jan 01

Daniel

YOU see him first in a record store in the middle of L.A., snagging the last Pink Floyd LP from its confines in the wooden compartment, secure; safe; unused; unplayed. It's 2021. Records are few and far between these days. You're both fourteen, born way after these times, and no one expects you to know what records and record players are, much less how to use one. 

Your Victrola sits on your desk, waiting to be played. Just as you are, with the exception of needing anyone to play, instead of just one person. Always and forever: just one. 

Him. You don't even know his name. You will, soon. 

 

Dec 28

WINTER PROMPT #1- Cold days, warm hearts


Snow fell outside the window in large, spiraling flakes, slipping into liquid the moment they into contact with the water-fogged window panes, hot, steaming air spilling from the bathtub as Cassie through the water, lathering shampoo into her dark hair. One look through the glass revealed the early—but no less joyous—arrival of her mother, returning from a long ( and what Cassie could safely assume was hard, from the set, stiff line of her mother's shoulders) day at work. 
        Cass leapt out of the bath and staggered over to her bathroom sink, slinging a towel tightly across her chest. She barely glanced at the mirror as she bolted out the door, sparing no time for clothes as she bolted down the staircase leading to her kitchen, trailing lavender scented soap behind her. 
        Her mother was just taking off her coat when Cass barged into the mud-room, bare feet slapping against the cold tile.
Dec 18

Sunset

Sunsets in Montana are stunning. The way the sun dips below the mountains, hiding its face from us before it falls, the blankets of pink and orange and yellow covering the expansion of the sky, the edges of their watercolors blending with the twilight that slips over the sky, just at the top. My bedroom is located at the back of the house, and I have two clean, clear windows stacked one on top of the other that look out on our ranch, starting with the pond in our backyard and hopping over the deer fence into the valley, spreading out towards the border, hitting right at the edge of the sky. 

Sunsets in Montana are almost always marvelous. Only when I miss them do I deplore them. Only then do I resent them; because I wasn't there to see it. Only then. 
Dec 18

And

I read something recently. It hit me really hard, actually. I kind of stared at my iPad screen for a moment, blinking through the mist in my eyes. Because, guys, seriously, this was such a game changer. 

What it said was: you are the AND, not the OR.  

Dec 03

Untitled (So far!)

Nov 25

Cruel

This is a bit of a dark story. If you don't want to read it, I don't mind. Thank you! 
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I watch his mouth. I watch it twist and sneer, curl and spit, arching around words like knives, like the pierce of a bullet to the chest. I watch him catch the edge of a heart in his hands and dig his nails in, those long, elegant, gorgeous fingers tearing in with the kind of cruelty only men like him can muster. The kind of cruelty that comes with dragons, with lions. Ripping and clawing and drawing gashes across unblemished skin, reveling in the marks, in the claiming. 

    I watch him. And I wait. I wait to tear his walls down. I sit in the shadows as he plays and pushes and kills and taunts. Then, I let him put his hands on my hips and his lips on mine and his heart in my palms. 

    I love letting him. I hate it, too. 

Nov 23

Terrified

I'm terrified of the dark. I can tell you that for a fact. It's a deep seated root of my trauma, from fighting in a war I never should have fought in, from watching people I loved fall around me, my memory still fresh of that feeling, that ache. It was always at night. No one attacks during the day. If you're a war leader worth your salt, you know. It's why I almost kiss the ground every time I see the sunlight come through my windows, the waft of free-falling sun-beam fuzz a familiar sight. 
It's horrid, I can tell you that. I can never get my feet out from under me when I end up in a dark room, can never manage to get any air, to just calm down and breathe, and tonight is no different, the feeling of my lungs crushing behind my chest, inky blackness blooming all around my eyes, a dreaded, but no less suprising, weight. 

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