pondering more

Day 9


I imagine fingers pulling desperately at a neck.
Crinkled eyes and knowing smiles.
Inside jokes and hopeful plans
Their favorites in my fridge and domestic routine.

I imagine intertwined legs on the couch with a forgotten show running through the background like life’s soundtrack.

I imagine holding hands while singing songs in the car, driving with no destination or planned out adventures.

I imagine knowing
Your morning drink and just how you like your coffee.
When your mind is made up or your heart unsure
The difference between your want for you and your want for me.

Will we have our own language?
Knowing looks from across a room
Reassuring touches and favorite poses
Know just where to touch to change the mood

Will I trust you when you say forever?
Promises of tomorrow to reassure me now
Whispered in passion
Witnessed by friends

Will it happen all at once?
A whirlwind of banter and connection, and wanting
More
More
More

Will it happen over time
Friends and links and secret hopes for
More
More
More

I want you to feel like home
endless Harry Potter nights and
arguments about Sherlock.
Can we rewatch episodes
discover new fandoms
and discuss our ships?
Cry about the world
while we hug in the rain.

I want to make animal noises at the zoo and be pretentious at the museum
Find places all our own and drive past state lines.
Usuals at diners
Milkshakes at home
Goodnight texts

Call me when you’re happy
Call me babe on accident
Tell me your stories
Listen to mine

Let’s read the same books so we can share theories.
Watch trailers with plans

I just want an us
full of individual moments and integrated lives
I want magic
and forever

where you know me
and I know you

is burrowed in I love you’s
and stay with me’s

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maybe bravery.

Day 8


I sat down to write. It’s been several hours and I haven’t done it yet. I promised myself I would write every day and I want to finally keep a promise, even if it’s just to myself. So here are my feelings. The thoughts screaming in my head, drowned out only but the comically loud crickets just outside my window. Somehow, they grow louder when I cannot sleep, when I find myself immobile. Literally and figuratively I am trapped by my own doings, and in the early mornings with no sleep it sounds like the lively earth is screaming at me. I have written and erased too many times, the earths heavy reminders. Things I am sad to have heard, ashamed of, hated. I couldn’t bear to see them typed here on my beloved computer screen.

I feel like self-reflection is the one thing I can always do well. My inner monologue is a bitch, but a clever one. I know exactly what wrong with me, I can analyze ever conversation I have ever had and critique every choice I have ever made. I know myself, my failures and my flaws. It seems impossible to fix them though. For hours, maybe even for years, I have wondered why I fall into these pits. Why I am so afraid?

I can hear stories in my head. When I take a shower, a sentence will emerge among all of my thoughts that I know is different. When I am in the car I’ll think of a fantastical creature begging to be a part of a fantastical world and when I am drifting off to sleep a monster will creep in just waiting to be fought. I have worlds living in my head, endlessly begging to be told through story. I don’t write because I can’t bear to fail at something I love. To be bad at it. I recently realized this and I think I have finally grasped how much that applies to everything. But it matters more with writing because writing has always mattered more. I finally realized that I am so afraid of failure that I don’t do anything. It’s a fear buried so deep it attached itself to every part of me. It’s visceral.

I need to stop being afraid. So, in a small step, here I am posting again, even though I failed. Even though I missed a day. One small step now and who knows? Maybe, tomorrow…bravery.

via Daily Prompt: Visceral

Daily Prompt: Trance

Day 6


I’ve been waiting my whole life
For someone to save me
For something to inspire me
To move pas this life I am stuck in

It’s like I am in a trance. One foot stuck in reality and the other in a world of magic. Just beyond my reach is another universe full of potential and options and a life guilt free.

How do I get there?

I think I know that I have to stop waiting. I could be the magical me if I hadn’t waited. I have wanted so much but I had so many things I thought would have to come first. I can’t talk to them, I cannot go there, I cannot try that. First I have to graduate, first I have to be beautiful. I need to lose the weight to be happy, I need to have the hair, just like theirs, to enjoy a hand running through it. A body cannot lay next to mine unless mine looks like hers. Don’t go to that class, they will hate you. Don’t say what you think, they will judge you. My fear of my otherness and wrongness bathed my heart until it broke.

I know that I have to stop waiting but I don’t know how.

via Daily Prompt: Trance


some days i want to fly

Day 5


Some days I want to fly
Under the moon
With the dark night floating around me
I can close my eyes
And feel myself floating
Moon beams kissing my skin

Some nights I want to burst
Red lips, pink cheeks, black clothes
I can feel the heat, body loose enough to not care
To feel like you must
Pretty and sure, happy and free
Reveling in the eyes that follow you

Some days I want to run
Heaving chest and sweat stained,
Energized and sore
I can close my eyes
And feel the air brush past my ears
Taste the cool water past my throat
Sun staining my skin, warm and glowing

Some nights I want to retreat
Snacks and cuddles
Echoed conversations and shining lights
Surround by familiar laughter
Grinning and satiated in knowledge
It feels like love
A home

I would shake hands with the stars and dance with the tide
Sing with the wind and laugh with the trees

I would, I want
So I dream

and then she was gone

Day 4


she disappeared slowly
when she couldn’t walk her own path
couldn’t make her own choices
when all she heard was

Wrong

and when all she felt was

Wrong

her power escaped her
needing the freedom from constraint
no longer fed by
her moments of passion
they too left
replaced with

Nothing

her attitude that was so her
the wrinkles between her eye
scrunched up nose
the way her foot would tap

Nothing

he took her heart and killed her with it
when all her good brought her pain
and all her joy brought wrath
and all her laughter was met with retribution
just her left in the void

her lip was not cut from the nervous biting
her knees not bruised from adventures
ears not ringing from loud music
sunglasses no longer shielding bright days
her voice was gone, no longer flowing and sweet
no longer full of zeal and song and whispers and fervor
it went when the hand prints came
dark and

blue

isn’t her favorite color anymore
all she can do is recite his rules

and walk his path
and heal his wounds
and forgive and forgive
and forgive

and forgive

and forgive

and forgive

and forgive

and forgive

and forgive

and forgive

until she remembers

Wrong

Wrong

Wrong

and then she was gone

via Daily Prompt: Recite

maybe I can only write in the darkness

Day 3


I don’t know what to type today. There is no real issue preventing my abilities, willingness, or general motivation. Some days I cannot get out of bed, some days I live in the dark and lie my way out of life. Today was not that. It was actually pretty good. I read some fanfiction, reread the beginning of “You’re a Badass” thinking maybe, this time it will work, maybe it will finally be the book that saves me. I even left the house for dinner groceries, with a list eve,  and then COOKED, a healthy meal. Which I ate a normal portion of. All which I took hesitant pride in. Best of all, I once again binge watched all of Sherlock, the only way to watch it. Today was progress. Today was good.

 

So what do I write about?

What do I write about if not darkness?

 

Can I not write if I am happy, is this happiness? Is this just what it feels like to not be miserable?

 

Even as I type this and look back at today, look at my solitary life, I don’t know what I am really feeling. I do know that I have cancelled on every friend to build this cocoon. That when Mycroft apologized to Sherlock about his being in a cell, alone, SOLITARY, I thought that it probably wouldn’t bother me much. I’m surrounded by thoughts I have had, people I have read about, heroes and heroines I have rooted for, riddles I have solved in the dark, tales from yesteryear, reimagining of my own life, lives I have imagined, people I have met and given stories to. I am less lonely alone that I am in a room full of familiar and friendly faces.  I’m twenty-eight, and hidden, and todays empty life was the most I could have asked for. Isn’t that sad? Why don’t I feel sad or regret about that?

 

Should I want more? Do I want more?

 

I can watch every Harry Potter movie with my eyes closed, I know these characters, these people from all my fandoms, really know them. I have contemplated their decisions, dreamt their dreams, felt their embarrassment, and mourned their losses. I don’t know my friends anymore, not their beliefs or their goals, or even their whereabouts. I chose these diminished relationships every time I declined a call, made an excuse, ignored texts, and turned off the lights and kept the curtains closed-just in case. I did this. I don’t even know if I regret it. Because the only thing better than having that friendship, is the ease of all of the anxiety and fear, the self loathing and unescapable overwhelming panic that comes with not. I breathe alone. I suffocate out there in the world living life.

 

Maybe I can only write in the darkness.

 

via Daily Prompt: Solitary