I have a story to tell. But it hurts so much to attempt to try to find words to tell it. I have no idea where to start. Maybe once I can separate the emotion, I’ll be able to write it. It’s been weighing quite heavily on me. Hopefully soon. Thanks all. 💙
How many times do we say, “…blah, blah, blah, this is the Last time….”?? Yeah? Well, how many times was that particular fucked up circumstance really, actually, THE LAST TIME??? Well, THAT my friends is why the world is so fucked up.
Like so many of you unfortunate minds, APPARENTLY, I couldn’t learn a lesson even if the possession of my soul depended upon it. THERE WERE SIGNS, I mean OF COURSE there were. But you know the mind of a soul when the heart is in charge…long dried out and shriveled. Fuck what the shrink is going to say about the signs and different colored flags. It was different. It was worse. It was TOXIC. PARADOXICALLY toxic. It was hot, yet cold. It was affection, yet rejection. It was euphoria, yet purgatory In nature. It was unconditional love, yet discoursing hate. But then again, what are marriages supposed to be right? Isn’t that the running joke in relationships? You’re miserable, and then you die…
Before we get to all of that and all this decoration of the yellow tape variety, let me first say that I am in no way, shape, form, or fashion even attempting to imply that I am not responsible for the actions I’ve taken thus far. I don’t regret them in the slightest. In fact, to suggest otherwise would further slight me, and you wouldn’t want to do that. GIVE ME MY CREDIT. Let us agree that I’ve received nothing in way of understanding, so afford me my credit due, in the least.
I told myself this was the last time. I simply wouldn’t allow this any further. This, this toxicity…. Its lethal. Its damaging, physically and mentally. And that’s the part that’s so often misunderstood; the psychological aspect of relationships. The real power. And somebody’s got to attain it. Somebody’s got to wield it. Somebody has to be compromising in the face of power. And that person who always was forced to bend, to contort, to become pliable, OF COURSE, WAS ME.
There’s nothing worse than tasting freedom; dipping your toes into the sea of free will is truly liberating. To know that your life is exactly what you say it is simply because you stated it to be is a powerful feeling. The invincibility. The possibilities. Everything is a swirling cloud of euphoria within oneself. But to simply taste freedom only to have the cup smacked viciously from your mouth is a death endured while still breathing. Its purgatory to be placed back into the chains of self doubt and resentment. And that’s where we pick up…
He knew this was the last time. I know he did and yet he tried to call my ‘bluff’. What a dumbass. But of course, there were signs for that as well… If he would’ve just taken me seriously, I swear that’s all I wanted. That’s all I ever wanted. Take me seriously. I am a person. I do a lot for our family. Just see me as a person. I’m not a robot or machine. I have feelings. I feel pain. But you NEVER cared to understand. You NEVER even tried. I saw that; I chose to ignore it. ‘one day he’ll get it’, I kept telling myself. As the years drown on, that whispering voice began to shout; ‘JUST WAIT, THE DAY IS SOON’. I cant help but to expect the storm of the century to freeze hell over thrice before that day comes… where’s my hope you ask? Well, ‘hope is a thing with feathers’. It picks up and flies away. It has a habit of migration. It flees the lonely, cold, darkness in search of warmth. That’s a perfectly understandable, its simply the nature of things. Just as a flower is incapable of thriving growth in the bleakness of an Antarctic environment, it would have been ludacris to expect the seed of hope to germinate in such an equally desolate inhospitable environment. It just wasn’t going to happen, and I had accepted that long ago.
This was THE LAST TIME. This was the last time I allowed you to flex you power in my face so unabashedly and brash; it was a full palm slap across my face. And it was the last time. This is the last time I ALLOW YOU TO MANIPULATE ME into being a monster. This is the last time I allow you to make me feel as I must fight for my peace tooth and nail. This is the last time I cry because I feel empty, because I allowed you to empty me of every uniquely quintessential thing that made me ME… This is it. The last time…
I DIDN’T KNOW HOW LONG IT TOOK. HOW LONG HAD IT TAKEN ME TO DECIDE AND ACT? HOW LONG DID IT TAKE TO COMPLETE THE DEED? DOESN’T MATTER, BECAUSE ITS NOT IMPORTANT. IT TOOK YOU THREE MINUTES TO DIE. I WATCHED EVERY SECOND. I TRIED SO HARD NOT TO BLINK. I WANTED TO SEE EVERY MICROSECOND OF YOUR FROTHY GASPS AND GLASSY GAZE. I HATED THAT I LOVED YOU. I HATED YOU. I HATED MYSELF MORE FOR ALLOWING YOU. I JUST HATED FEELING; INADEQUACY, SHAME, RESENTMENT, LONELINESS, DEVALUED,… ALL OF IT.
AND THEN THERE WAS RED; YELLOW CAME AFTER RED AND BLUE… THERE WAS BLOOD EVERYWHERE. YOU SPRAYED THE ROOM IN ITS ENTIRETY. NOW, ISN’T THAT JUST LIKE YOU; FINAL LITTLE FUCK YOU, I’M THE VICTIM TYPE MOVE. YOU ALWAYS WERE SO FULL OF SHIT…JUST THOUGHT I’D HELP YOU FEEL AS EMPTY AS YOU’VE MADE ME. I JUST DIDN’T THINK SO MUCH OF IT WOULD ACTUALLY COME OUT. GOD BLESS THE CAROTID. THEN THERE CAME THE RED AND BLUE. FINALLY THE YELLOW. NOW ALL I SEE IS ORANGE. OH WELL. IT WAS WORTH IT.
Thanks for reading.
As I sit here staring at her picture, I almost can’t believe it…
I’ve been on autopilot since the Sheriff’s press conference announcing the discovery of your body. The funeral was a blur of polite faces and equally kind and semi sincere condolences, that I can’t bring into focus for the life of me. It’s as if it never happened, but there’s a sense of déjà vu like it did in fact occur, but was merely a figment of a dream. But it could’ve easily been of imagination just the same. Listen at yourself, it’s like you’re losing it. Pull it together. If you continue staring through everyone they’re going to declare you insane with grief. Or maybe just insane. But I have to keep playing it over in my mind…. What exactly had the sheriff stated during that interview? I suppose it didn’t really matter…but what if it did? What if I’m questioned? What do I say? I really should listen to what these people are saying…but I simply can’t. If I try to focus all I can hear is that sound. God, that dreadful sound. It wasn’t a snap. But it wasn’t a crack either. The sickening crunch haunts me even my sleep. ‘There is no rest for the wicked’, isn’t that what mother always says? It IS just like her to always say it isn’t it… but what would she say if she knew? She’d probably just called me a wretched wicked girl just like she always has….. Yes. Probably. But as I sit here staring at her picture, I almost can’t believe I killed you. But most importantly, I cant believe they’re too stupid to have not figured it out yet….
It wasn’t much, but it felt good. Thanks for reading.
Poor little George was a quiet lad
With one friend he was often sad
Now poor George is a lonely lad
He cut out that friend’s eyes when he got mad.
When I was little my best friend was a kid named Jamal who lived down the street. He disappeared when we were twelve. Even though his family spent months searching everywhere for him, they never thought to check under the floorboards in my room.
I didn’t want to hurt Jamal. But I had to. He had something bad inside him. My friend wasn’t my friend. It just wore his body around like when I pretended to be Iron Man gfor Halloween. Except Iron Man didn’t hurt anybody. Iron Man wasa man inside a machine. It was a shadow inside of Jamal.
The shadow hurt people, except Jamal got blamed for it. Like old Mrs. Dillinger’s cat that ‘disappeared’. It was the same cat Jamal’s mother found in pieces in a box under his bed. Or like when Tina, Jamal’s little sister, ‘fell’ down the stairs. She yelled his name as she tumbled and there he stood just as triumphant at the top of the stairs; still smiling. But it was when Jamal stabbed his dad that I knew I had to help. His dad told everyone what happened.
Jamal looked so scared when the police were questioning him. He wasn’t completely shadow yet. He still had some good in him that would take over sometimes. But It was stronger. They were going to lock him away with the crazies come the next day. So after the cops left I snuck over to Jamal’s house. I was afraid, but it had to be done.
By the time Jamal came outside, my stomach had done all the flips it could and had settled. We walked to my house. I knew my mom was asleep and my dad was still at work. I took Jamal to my dad’s workshop behind our house. I went in first and stepped quickly into the darkness. I knew he wouldn’t be able to see. I knew this workshop better than my dad did. As soon as Jamal stepped into the pitch black of the shed, I slammed the door behind him.
Yeah he cried and begged me to stop. I kept swinging the crowbar until the last little movements.
We were twelve when Jamal disappeared. His family spent months looking everywhere for him, thinking he had run away to escape the crazies. But they never thought to check under the floorboards in my room.
Thanks for reading guys. Its rough as usual. I used 2 short story starters
I just saw my reflection blink…..
It didn’t think I noticed. I turned my head for just a second, but not my attention. The movement was slight, but not as slight as it thought. It’s been slipping up lately. More movements have been noticeable.
If I can just play fool a little longer…I think as I smile into the mirror. The reflection smiled back.
It doesn’t even suspect a thing… I decided smugly.
As I began to turnto walk away,it’s smile vanished coldly. I flick the switch off and turn away as if I didn’t notice. Back towards the mirror, I can feel it’s glare piercing me like knives.
It knows…. The thought paralized me with fear. A startling realization hit.
I’m out of time….
Sorry it’s been so long! Thanks for reading! More stories to come ☺
I wrote some new things to put on here. As soon as I feel a bit better.
new story coming soon!!!!
Everyone go check out grounding based on an experience I’ll never forget. It’s rough,sorry
Im losing it. Everything is getting fuzzy. Im going down. I cant breathe. My heart is pounding so loud its making everything she was explaining backgound fuzz. I guess its give it a try now or call an ambulance later. What were those stupid steps?
1.sight- what do I see? a metal table. its so shiny. oh look, its scratched. the light reflecting on it just seems too bright. its too harsh. all of it is just too harsh.. The fuzzy shadow is coming back… shit focus. what do you see. i see you laying there. on top of the flawed shiny table. under all these harsh lights. focus. look at those beautiful eyes. focus girl. the eyes. theyre wrong. theyre sad. they arent brown anymore, just red. Thats what she was talking about before, remember? whats next?
2.sounds- what am i hearing? nothing. focus. its coming back faintly- mam? do you need water? Go…..begins to fade out…. focus girl…… comes back… water please? i hear your cries. your moans. i can hear you. i can hear you.
3.smell- what do i smell- i smell nothing. focus. hospital…medical smell. what is that smell? i smell urine. i know you couldnt help it. its ok. its ok.
4. taste- i taste the vomit im choking back. its sour. its hot. i cant hold it back any more. i need to run.
outside the air isnt as thick but i still cant breathe. i still see the shine. the lights. i cant think. thick streams of tears race down my face. Id been speaking and rocking without realizing it. what was i saying? I tried. i tried so hard. over and over is all that was tumbling half incoherntly and involuntarily from my clumsy mouth. she came back out. her face looked sympathetic. her voice cracked. i wasnt listening to the words.its how her voice sounded. that hoplessness… she embraced me. and walked with me back inside.
I see you. and finally touch- i take you off that cruel looking table. i touch you. you feel soft. as always, yet there was a hardness now present to you.i dont know what i said but i can tell im falling apart again. i feel my boyfriends arms. his hands. his touch. i cant. Its time.
I walked out feeling like my heart was dragging behind me. you deserved better. youll always have deserved better. Ill never foreget this. never. a week later youre still all i see.laying on top of that cold hard shiny metal table. under those harsh lights. and i start shaking all over again. k.delaine.
Wendy stood over Brian like she’d already won. Perhaps she was too arrogant, maybe she was simply enjoying herself more than she should’ve. Which ever the case, she’d lost track of time.
“You’re so pathetic. You run away from everything. Especially Heather. When she needs you, you run and submerge yourself in your career. You should’ve spent more time making your wife happy,” she snarled. “Y-y-yyou- Y-y-oou’re right,” Bsrian sputtered through swollen and bloody lips. “I-i-i-i should have ap-p-p-preciated her more….”
“But, I really should thank you,” Wendy interrupted as if speaking a thought aloud from her own thoughts, “I mean it was you who kept the spark burning bwtween me and Heater for years. Your fuck ups brought us closer, ” she jeered. “And thats why I wont kill you,” Wendy said feeling the power swell within her as if she’d done an honerable thing.
“T-t-h-h-hank y-y-you,” replied a man more than greatful to be alive.
“Don’t thank me yet, I’m not finished,” she said as she beat him with the butt of her gun a few more times. His nose was broken and poured blood like a fountian. “You are going to go far away. Don’t tell her where, and never speak to her or so much as utter her name again. ”
“But I love her,” managed Brian, “What if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll kill you. Now,” was the matter of fact’ retort that flowed from Wendys lips in a sing song voice.
“I’ll go,” replied a hopeless Brian.
“Good boy, now go pack Wendy said as she untied him. She glanced at her watch. Heather would be back soon, Wendy had to go.” .she was confident that Brian understood this was no game. Love never is. She did smash the window and turn a few things over to stage a break in before she clad herself in her disguise.
Wendy managed to to make it out of the house like a ghost. She sat outside across the street and down a ways. She needed to watch. Luckily, there was only a short wait before Brian exited the house unseen as well. Wendy waited 15 minutes before she pulled off to ensure the coward wouldn’t pull back on his word. Twenty-two minutes later, Heather’s car pulled smoothly into the driveway…..
to be continued………