Posted in Word Prompt

AuthorAnon goes a little personal (a #metoo example)

I was going to do a picture post this afternoon but instead I’m going to post this. It’s a little bit of a personal story but one I wanted to get off my chest. This is out of the creative writing realm I normally stick to but I feel it’s important.

For anyone who’s still unsure about this whole “me too” thing, allow me to break it down with a personal example.

A week ago my ex showed up at my front door. I didn’t invite him. He hid his face so I couldn’t tell who it was through the peep hole and he wouldn’t stop knocking or ringing the bell.

When I opened the door and stepped outside he informed me that although we’ve been broken up for over a year he is still going to try and win me back. The only thing that could possibly make him think “this is over” is if I’d found someone else.

Of course he wanted to know if I’d found someone else. Then he “accused” me of finding someone else when I told him it wasn’t his business and he needed to leave.

He finally did leave but not before declaring that he wanted his old life back and he was going to do everything in his power to get it back. “I’m not done trying to win you back.”

I have not offered him his “old life” back. I have not “led him on”. He is blocked on my phone and on my daughters phone. So he started trying to text my family members.

All of this to say: People are not objects to be won. We are not possessions that you can hold on to, let go of and take back at will.

My ex is part of the problem. People like him are part of the problem. A society that leads men to believe they can act in this manner is the problem. A society that leads people to believe women have done something to deserve behavior like this is the problem.

Me too is not about women whining. It’s not about false accusations. It’s not about tearing men down. It’s about shining the light on the fact that we live in a society that has for far too long found this behavior acceptable and allowed people to act on these ideas with little to no consequences.

It’s about influencing change in a system that’s so ingrained into our society that we’ve been shamed for stepping forward and acknowledging that it is wrong.

#metoo

Posted in stream of consciousness

Everybody’s Strange

Weekly Stream of Consciousness Writing – Prompt – Creature (oh wordpress, you get me).

Music: Samsara Blues Experiment – 2010 album Long Distance Trip

I’ve always been an odd creature.

When I was in middle school a boy in my class turned to me, moved really close and asked me if I turned into a cat in the middle of the night.

“Your eyes are cat eyes. Do you turn into a cat at night?”

“I don’t know, I’m asleep.”

That seemed reasonable enough for him.

I was always too kind, in elementary school it got me in trouble with bullies.

They needed someone to exploit. I was all too willing if it meant someone would be my friend.

I never quite felt like I fit in.

I still don’t although I’m more comfortable with it now.

I guess at a certain point you realize everyone is some form of odd.

We’re all strange.

Maybe that’s why I connected with “weird hippie music” so much.

Hendrix, Pink Floyd, The Doors … all artists that embraced the fact that people are weird.

I explored all kinds of alternative paths.

I abandoned the Christian religion I’d been raised in as a teenager and explored Pagan and Buddhist lifestyles instead.

That will throw people through a loop when your parents decide to relocate you from a diverse city area to a hick town at 15.

It is nice to realize clarity comes with age

To realize that maybe we’re all wrong

But if we’re all wrong I guess I really don’t want to be right.

I can be odd all day, nobodies going to change that.

Embrace it, it’s ok.

We’re wrong, we’re right, we’re strange.

Everybody’s strange.


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Posted in stream of consciousness

Here We Are

Stream of thought writing, I guess this is going to be a weekly thing now –

Prompt – Inkling

Music – Steve Reich – Works 1965-1995

Inkling.

It starts with a drop, a spot of ink infecting, spreading in the water.

It was all so clear

Until

You loosed the ink composed of your fear.

Now it’s here, spreading, floating, clouding

A situation we thought was through.

Tied up and tossed aside

Like a neatly composed pile of trash.

But here we are

Lost in each others eyes.

At least I am.

I have a feeling

You are too but we can’t, can we?

Inklings aren’t enough

They don’t spread through the veins,

Becoming all we are.

Do they?

Be still, they say, let it be.

Let it disperse, the way ink should

Eventually the floods will carry it away.

Except I’ve been waiting

And it’s still here

Floating and spreading

Infecting all we’re becoming.

But of course

They say

There was never another way.

The inkling was always there

Just hidden away by fear.

You’re not scared

And I’m no longer afraid …

So what is this inkling that remains?

Time inches by

Sand through the hole we’ll never hold again.

Spread by the wind like the ink in water.

How many seconds has it been?

How long until this dam breaks

And our infested waters overflow

Carrying away everything we know,

Our fears?

Our belief?

Time’s up.


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Posted in Word Prompt

I Guess It’s Improvement – Redux

I wrote this last night and thought this morning of deleting it.

“You were just whining.”

“Your life is great.”

“Look at everything you have, everything you’ve done.”

These are all things that have been said to me over the years, they’re all true.

Logically I have no reason to be down, my life is good. I have so much more than some people could even dream of. The fact that I can even sit down and eat everyday is more than some people have. I have a job, a car, a house … I can afford to travel.

I have a child that I’ve somehow managed to not screw up.

Logically I’m doing great and that’s what people see when they look at me. I know that’s what prompts the comments I get.

The reality is that my brain is broken.

So one day I’ll be sitting at work and I’ll be fine then something will just hit me. I won’t know what it is. I won’t understand.

I’ll just want nothing more than to go hide. I won’t want to go to work. I won’t want to write. I won’t want to cook or clean or be responsible.

It will just all be too much and it will be sudden.

I’ll get anxious. I’ll want to run.

But after years of doing this, cycling through it and talking to therapists, I know it will pass.

I know how to take care of myself through it now.

But life doesn’t sit there and wait for me. People don’t understand when they look at me. I have to force myself to be responsible then I have to let myself break down.

Quietly. Away from where others can see.

I guess it’s improvement.

My head hurt
So I just kept drinking.
Now I can’t feel
My tongue
Or my heart,
Or the ache
That I’ve buried
Deep under this art.
But the tears keep coming
Like I’m mourning
This dead end
Dry crumbling piece of me.
I guess it’s improvement
Since before
I just didn’t cry
Because I didn’t feel
Anything at all.

Inscrutable