Essay, Flash Fiction, Poetry, Prose

Sometimes – Anonymous

Sometimes your opinion really bothers me

 

Sometimes my desires feel like slavery

 

Sometimes half the things you say I don’t understand

 

Sometimes it would be easier to love a different man

 

 

Sometimes you make me wait far too long to see you

 

Sometimes I feel jealous green or melancholy blue

 

Sometimes you ask me to let you see too much

 

Sometimes I don’t savor your words or crave your touch

 

 

Sometimes you twist my words

 

Sometimes your helping hurts

 

Sometimes you tell the truth when I want a lie

 

Sometimes you leave me without saying goodbye

 

 

Sometimes I find you suffocatingly possessive

 

Sometimes what you tell me isn’t calming, but distressive

 

Sometimes what you call sexy I find oppressive

 

Sometimes I’m afraid that our affections are not crescive

 

 

Sometimes I don’t like you, but I have never ceased to love you.

 

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Poetry, Prose, Prosetry, Uncategorized

Things That Are Grey – Ally Ameel

I’m not sure if it’s grey or gray, but in the end it doesn’t really matter

 

everything is blurry

 

it’s like my ears stopped working

and I can’t see very well

like I’m looking through water

and everyone is swimming

 

which I guess I am

 

I don’t know where the crying began

and when I stopped

 

but now i found myself sitting

in silence

 

I could smell cleaning products

and the walls were so white

it was almost blinding

but the light bulbs

washed everything away

 

I stared at the wall

and sometimes

people passed

in blurs of white

blending with the walls

and occasionally blue

 

I must have sat for hours

without thinking at all

 

mom came later

and did her mom thing

with the hugging and the worrying

and trying to figure out

just what I’m feeling

dad just sort of stood there

with his hands in his pockets

saying I’m sorry a lot

he doesn’t deal with sadness

too well

 

they waited

but then we had to go

and I had to say goodbye

 

I’m used to goodbyes

but they never get easier

no matter how many times

 

I stood up

and walked to the window

next to the door

the blinds cut my vision

into thin strips

but my brain put the image together

like a puzzle

and I saw her lying there

with her chest moving

up and down

I breathed with her for a while

 

I walked inside

and stood near the window

to the outside

 

I remember when

she taught me to play chess

even though I already knew how

and she broke all the rules

and wouldn’t let me take any of her pieces

not even the little pawns

 

she had cats too

but only two

so not quite crazy

like I said before

she snuck them pieces of her dinner

while we sat around the table

playing cards

when she got sick of chess

she cheated at that too

 

and she even made me watch

black and white romance films

while I sat on the green couch

with cracks in the leather

and she sobbed

into a box of tissues

 

she believed in

true love

and all that stuff

 

I looked outside

the sky was grey

it seemed to know

that something sad was happening

i was still crying

 

she finally spoke

her voice crackling

like a radio stuck between stations

 

“henry stop crying”

 

I turned around

and there she was

mrs laverne

she still wore

those silly green glasses

her skin was worn

and she looked tired

 

“henry get over here. I’m dying, didn’t you hear?”

 

I stumbled over, awkwardly

 

“hi” I muttered

 

“wow your social skills have really improved”

 

I didn’t laugh

 

“you know henry, you’re a good guy.”

 

“oh thanks.”

 

“and life sucks, but it will get better”

 

I thought

about when mrs laverne

bailed me out of jail

 

she asked me what I knew

about love

 

I always thought love was stupid

and cheesy

I thought

it was supposed to make you happy

but all I felt was grey

like the sky

 

but then I thought about

when mrs laverne

made me chicken noodle soup

when I got pneumonia

for two weeks

 

and when she fixed my car

after I drove into a tree

and she didn’t even tell my parents

 

I thought

about how she dazed off

and stared

at the photograph

of her son and husband

siting on the mahogany table

in her living room

 

and I sort of knew why now

 

“thanks” I finally said

 

she reached her hand out to mine

her nails were still painted red

I almost smiled

 

“I’ll miss you henry”

 

“do you really believe in love?”

 

“doesn’t everybody? it’s the only reason I’m still alive”

 

she closed her eyes

and smiled back at me

 

“goodbye”

 

“I’ll miss you too mrs laverne. you weren’t so bad”

 

I walked away

without turning back

in the back of my mind

I wanted to say

see you tomorrow

but I knew it wasn’t coming

   

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Essay, Flash Fiction, Prose

A Simple Thought – Aksel Taylan

We spend a lot of time in our short lives thinking about the long term. What’s going to happen to me in ten years? Fifteen? Thirty, even? In severe cases, we let this presumptuous worries diversely affect our everyday actions and choices. This principle has a number of glaring flaws, but the main one to focus on is that the future hasn’t happened yet. You are writing your own novel; you are the only one with a pen. In other words, it is fully within your capabilities to control most of what happens in your life. However, we fail to understand that not all of it can be controlled. People get in car accidents. People get deathly ill. People are in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Why, then, should you let these worries take hold of how you express yourself if we don’t have absolute control? Sometimes, doing something wrong allows a person to grow, to become stronger, possibly even teach others the right way. The right way, which everyone hungrily seeks, cannot be found without failure. Take a left when you think you’re supposed to take a right, eat raw cookie dough, or even, if you’re feeling really adventurous, stay out an hour later! Fight the norm with all you’ve got, because succumbing to the proper choice makes for a dull, uninspired life. Need I remind you, you only get one of those. I think it’s in your best interest to make it count.

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Essay, Flash Fiction, Prose

Survival (Lesson One) – Caitlyn Beauchamp

I’m going to teach you a lesson. I’ll lay out each step, provide an outline, but you have to do the rest. You have to act. This is how to live life. This is how to survive.

First, I want you to wake up. Open your eyes and take a waking breath. Welcome this day. The past may flood back into your mind, but keep your focus on today.

Next, get out of bed. This is a bit harder. Moving takes motivation and determination, even though, it seems so simple on the outside. Sometimes it may feel like there is a weight on your chest, pinning you down, holding you back. You have to find the energy to fight back somehow.

If you made it to this step, feel proud. You kicked off your day when many others couldn’t even find the will to get out of bed. Now, go to your nearest mirror or somewhere you can see yourself. Once you’re there, look at your reflection and smile. Smile because you’re alive and that’s your most important job, your purest purpose, and you’ve done a great job so far.

So far, you’re moving and smiling. You’re doing great. You should eat something now or at least provide yourself with a beverage. Part of life involves taking care of yourself. It isn’t too hard, but I find some people fight themselves on the topic of it. They refuse to. They group it with bad acts. Remember, food keeps you alive. You’ve come so far already; why stop now?

Now, you have two options: rest or work. You get to choose, but keep that smile on your face. Whichever you do, make sure you do it right. With a smile. If you’re not going to put that effort into it then don’t do it at all.

Once the day comes to a close, I want you to sleep. Put everything aside and just lay down. Block everything else out. I know it can be tough shutting away your worries and thoughts, but you have to muffle them somehow. Your body and mind both need sleep, so try not to deprive them of it for petty things. I hope you’re still smiling. Now, repeat this tomorrow.

So, maybe this sounds like “faking it,” but I think this layout is efficient. You’re valuable, and you’re just constantly reminding yourself of that. Always keep moving. Always keep fighting. Never feel like today should be your last day. So, remember, do it right with a smile or don’t do it at all.

This concludes Lesson 1.

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Essay, Flash Fiction, Prose

Dear Diary – Camryn Garrett

4/13/15

I think that my life revolves way too much around things that aren’t happening, and things that aren’t real. People who I made up, and who only exist in my head. Scenarios and stories. Which is all fine and dandy, but eventually I feel like I’m sucked in. Stuck in my head.
And I don’t like the feeling very much.

The only issue is that I don’t really know what else to do when I’m outside of my head. A club? An activity? Like, what?

But I also feel like this all the time, even when I’m relatively sane. I don’t know what it is. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. I just sit around. Observing. Watching other people live their lives while I sort of just..drift through it, you know? And I’m tired, so I don’t really want to force myself to do anything.

I don’t know. I wish that I could be normal.

4/24/15
I feel like I haven’t been normal in a long time.

4/26/15

I want to die.

At this point, I think that I might always want to die. Maybe people learn how to live with it? But I don’t know. All I know is that I want to die, but I’m never going to do it myself because I can’t let go of what I hope might be.

I just wish that it weren’t so fucking difficult.

And no one ever knows what I’m talking about???

No one really seems to know what to do. So maybe there’s something wrong with me that can’t be fixed. Like, my fate was predetermined? So maybe I’m a cautionary tale. Maybe I could’ve done great things and people will point at me when trying to convince kids not to get sad.

5/3/2015

Sometimes I wish that I could be part of something. That I could feel important. I really don’t know how to describe it.

Ugh. I’m such an angsty teen. But the whole angsty teen idea is really stupid, because I feel like it takes away someone’s right to actually have feelings. Like, when a female has feelings, she’s sort of denied that right. As are teens.

5/7/2015

I don’t know why I feel so anxious. I just know that I do. I just feel like nothing I ever write will be good enough, even if I write it and love it with all of my heart.

I just wonder if it’s even worth it. But I

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Flash Fiction, Poetry, Prose, Prosetry

Isn’t It Funny? – Poppy Lam

Isn’t it funny how fire destroys everything that allows it’s soaring embers thrive?
The things that keep it alive?
kinda like us.
You suck the life out of me so you can glow even brighter,
 leaving me to cough up the ashes,
 Your crippling flames leave my fingertips blistered and burnt from the mere thought of you,
 but soon I will no longer be a source of fuel,
I was just a Serendipity as you were racing through the silhouettes of land.
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Essay, Flash Fiction, Prose

On Self Fulfillment – Alex Esterline

Think of how the universe works and how fantastic it is that it all works. Regardless of who or what is responsible for its existence, how fantastic is it that it all happened? That you were put into this strange casing of skin and bones and blood that work perfectly, that your lungs are what deliver that vital substance, known as air, that we all need. That we are on the planet perfect for sustaining our needs, that we have no idea how we ended up here. Yet, for centuries, people have been focused on how we got here. And we’ll likely never know. We have no idea how we got here, and that’s not important. The why is. You need to think about what it is you want to do with your time here, not how you got here. Because at the end of the earth, there are no guarantees.

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