Wine, a girls best friend. Here she was,party in full swing, glass in perfectly manicured hand,playing the good-time girl role to perfection . Giddy and rosy cheeked they laughed until their jaws ached.
She did her usual party gags and the all girls were in stitches. Dressed to kill with glossy chestnut hair that fell effortlessy around her designer clad shoulders, how they envied her life- young, free and single.
Time to go home now.Air-kissed cheeks and hugs exhancged,they left full of promise of the next girls night in.
She closed the door as the last guest left and stood...
She'd always come running when I called, well figuratively anyway. The experience of that rush of warmth when her headlights punched holes through those dark and cold nights. The litany of why me questions she'd serve as I kept my hands firmly pressed on the vents to chase away the chill. I'd never known anyone before or since who could shift so smooth. Especially given the roughly 75 scrunchies positioned on the gear shifter.
I would share with her the joys and triumphs of the seventeen year old psyche. Then after waiting out the enevidable diatribe on my selfishness we...
They called it co-dependent. They labelled it, the need to go from one relationship to another, to never be alone - they labelled it like it was bad. Like it wasn't what everyone did.
Alright, maybe - just maybe - she took it too far, maybe she was a little too reliant on whoever's hand was (by rights) hers at that moment. Maybe it wasn't what they had decided was healthy, but their healthy? They could keep their healthy.
Their healthy was not her healthy, and it wasn't what she wanted. They decided all of these things, using test after...
My father had died.I was lost without any one to hold my hand.I was left alone. With no family.My hand just banged against my side as I was walking. I am now walking , lost , without any hand to hold. Since my father's death I haven't felt the same.He promised me he would be back as he left on his journey to Singapore he whispered into my ears and said "I will come home I promise". He had lied. He had left me. He left me to fend for myself.
I am lost. I continued to walk through the...
I am still half dreaming as I open my eyes against the night. The alarm hasn't gone off yet, shaking me awake with its awful, soul grating shriek, and it is not yet morning. I glance at the slime green display on the clock - 2.18am. Not good. Something has disturbed my sleep at this usually, thankfully, unknown hour and I just hope that I can ignore it and drift back down into my rest.
I try, but there is a sound, or some movement, or maybe it's both things, and my eyes are open again even though I wish...
Sitting. Staring. Tears welling. Drip. drip.
No! I can't let her see my defeat.
Swallow these tears that blur my vision.
Feelings of worthlessness fill my mind, the characters on the page melt under the liquid weight of my tears. They fall to the ground with every drop of salt, under my desk. Swirling black ink meets the dirt as I grind my dreams to mud. Black, beautiful, calligraphy mud.
If only, if only...it would be so much easier to blame her. But I am the one at fault.
It was only the briefest of interactions...
The beast lay in its containment chamber, loathe in the fact it was once more dissolving in the volatile concoction of hydrochloric acid. Viscous fleshy chunks pooled off his rapidly decaying hide, his keratin-enriched mane already microscopic particles in the vat. Bone was visible on its face, iconic to the images the public knew it as.
Reptilian eyes watched me as I entered the containment room, blatantly conveying its want, need, and desire, to kill me. The only words I could get out of it were "Die, now." And then the fun began....
Drip. Drip. Drip. The blood plopped to the concrete floor like a leaky faucet. He contemplated about the throbbing pain he felt with every plop.
He enjoyed that feeling. Concentrating so much on one pain over and over again. The first time he asked his boyfriend to blindfold him and punch in him the face - his boyfriend thought he was being dirty.
"You like it rough..." he had coyly responded.
The problem was it stopped being about the pleasure and more about the pain. He wanted to feel the warm liquid glop from his mouth and puddle to his...
I never liked black and white photos, it's because I don't see colours well and everything looks blurry. Can't make out shapes or faces. So I don't really know what my parents looked like when they were younger let alone anyone older.
Thing is, there was something odd about this particular snap. As though it was alive. My fingers felt wet,salt in the air and I could have sworn that there was sand between my toes, they had that uncomfortable gritty feeling. Coincidence or not, gulls flew overhead, circling, making me jump with their loud shrill cry. Then I heard...
I always imagined that I'd feel nothing. Instead, I feel everything. Every paper cut, every broken heart, everything. It's like a million voices echoing in my head, vying for attention. I tip my head back, letting the wind rip through my hair. It's calming. I feel the knots in my shoulders relax, the pounding behind my eyes ease. This is it. It will soon be over. The pain, the misery, this life. It is almost over. I glance down at the crashing waves. It's a long way down. Noone will ever recover it. Its time to say goodbye. Time to...