Saturday, March 26, 2016

Drabble #22

My heart had sunk to the deepest, darkest depths of despair. It had sunk to my stomach. and to my colon and even further down. In that moment, I felt like all the sweat, tears, and blood I'd invested in my high school career immediately went down the drain. It wasn't fair. It really wasn't fair. It wasn't over yet, but it may as well have been. I couldn't take it anymore. I just couldn't. Had I had too much pride? What did I do wrong? What didn't I do right? Why didn't they want me? I sat alone, stressed.

Friday, March 25, 2016

Drabble #21

They're a beautiful crystal blue. Even as the rest of your body melts away and rots and disintegrates, your eyes will stay there for eternity, engraved in my mind until it's my turn for my body to melt away and rot and disintegrate. They're shiny, like glass. Glass eyes... except you have full control over them as you stare at me. Fake glass eyes could never look at me that way. They're cold, but you're warm. Such a stark contrast. It's almost jarring. Almost. I felt sick on the inside, my stomach churning in ten billion directions. Can't help it.

Thursday, March 24, 2016

Drabble #20

My life was in a truly awful scramble. There were a lot of things I didn't understand--that I couldn't understand. I felt like I was Colonel Cathcart from Catch-22, always so concerned with my status relative to that of others. Why did I always feel the need to compare? Why? What was so great about that? It just made me feel like shit in the end. Everything was awful, and the worst part was, there was nothing I could do about it. Things were too hard, much too hard. There were only so many things I could handle at once.

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Drabble #18-19 (200 words)

Beatrice missed Scott. He was only one call away, like that freaking Charlie Puth song, but she didn't want to call. She was afraid, afraid that she'd call only to find that he was no longer the man she fell in love with ten years ago, the man she needed in the moment. She decided it would be best to keep the loving, charming 10-years-ago Scott, the Scott that had loved her unconditionally, in her head. So she waited. Waited for him to call her. Then, maybe it would be easier on her if he didn't love her anymore. At least calling would show that he still cared, somewhat. Until then, she would go to sleep to try to ease the pain, holding her own hand to her chest, hugging it close and not letting it go. A tear slid from her left eye to her right, and softly let itself down onto the pillow. She choked on her own sobs, but still, ceased to make any sound. She hated it when people heard her cry. So, just like that, she drifted into oblivion and her heart no longer felt like ten thousand needles were poking it all at once.

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Drabble #17

I am so tired. So, so tired. Please just leave me alone. I don't want company. None at all. No, not you either. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk. Just go away, go away go away I have to be alone. I don't want any reassurance. Go away. Don't talk to me. I want to be alone is that too much to ask? Is it? Maybe I should go because you're not moving. Just let me be. I want to go home. It's cold but I don't care. Just leave me alone. Please. Please.

Sunday, March 20, 2016

Drabble #14-16 (300 words)

My face is swollen. The redness covering my entire left eyelid strikes me the hardest. The eczema's been there for six months, and is still relentlessly going at it. It's not so bad, I tell myself. But it is, especially when I look at my other eyelid for comparison. Bug bites span across the surface of my left forehead, probably because I sleep on my right, leaving the left exposed. They're bumpy. Some are new, and are especially prominent, but some are faded, but then again not really. A bug bite on each cheekbone.  A faded bug bite in the hollow of my left cheek. A prominent one right under my right. The violet pools underneath my eyes don't help anything. There's eczema on my upper lip, on the left side of my face. Waxing the hair off of it it yesterday must have irritated it more. There are three bug bites down the length of my nose, and some eczema threatening to spread to the other eyelid. There are two more bug bites right beneath my jaw. They're fiery red. Two fresh ones on my neck, where hickies should be. One on the back of my neck. I let out a halfhearted laugh, because the idea of getting a hickey on the back of my neck is just really funny. Also I look awful. But that's not as funny as the first thing. I hope the eczema lotion comes soon, I sigh. For now, there's really nothing I can do about it except slap on some concealer, suck it up, and get over it. I have way too much karmic debt to pay off. I shake my head, and exit the bathroom. It's going to be another normal day. Except I am totally not wearing a bra today. Nope.

Drabble #13

My head feels like there are seven little dwarves inside it mining the bone near my temple, trying to mine all the good stuff that's worth anything and take it for their own. It hurts. It really hurts, but I can't do anything about it. I won't take naps because I still believe naps make you fall into a vicious cycle and I don't want to fall into one. I'm not ready. I am not ready for the world yet I am so ready for the world. I don't know how much longer I can handle what I am handling.

Drabble #12

The world is in chaos, or, rather, my world is in chaos. The only thing is that I am the only one who recognizes it. It's all in my head, people tell me. It's all in my head. There are so many other things to worry about. You have better things to worry about. What better things? Can problems be better than one another? I don't get it. I don't get it. I need to get out but I can't get out. I'm so trapped but there are no chains. No chains to ground me yet I feel so trapped.

Drabble #11

It doesn't match. I furrowed my brows and scowled at the tiny screen of my iPhone 4s. The tie and the dress didn't match. The tie was too gold, much too gold, and the dress was more of a beige-y, light orange-y champagne. I was in such a predicament. Damn it, damn it, damn it damn it damn it.

Everything had to be perfect. Absolutely perfect. Otherwise all the time spent on planning would go right out the window, and I hated it when that happened. I hated the feeling of not having control. It made me feel so helpless.

Drabble #10

It wasn't until later that all of us realized we were one big stock market. We were a group of successful investments, failed investments, investments with potential and without... and stocks that came so close but came tumbling down nonetheless. And as for the investors? Our parents. Of course they were. They had so many expectations. They watched us every day, eager for us to grow and show them that all the money they spent would double, and triple in worth. We were their little stock market, but little did they know, it was about to be 1929 all over again.

Saturday, March 19, 2016

Drabble #9

It's dark out.

I lace my fingers together, trying to imagine, that instead of my own hand, I'm holding yours. It would all work out if my hands weren't so small and bony, and if I couldn't feel my right hand in my left, and my left hand in my right. The awareness is jarring. It is in moments like these that I yearn for only for your company. Just your company. Not your lips, or your hands on my back, pressing me to you. Those things are nice, great, even, but not too appropriate for tender moments like these. 


Thursday, March 17, 2016

Drabble #8

To most of the world, there is nothing more terrifying than the unknown. I would agree, except not really. There are many things that I don't know, nor want to know.... like when I will die. Those moments should be saved for the exact time they are assigned on the time space continuum. Seeing the future is like barging into a room and finding someone naked, someone who didn't want you to find them naked in the very first place. The past causes regret, and the future worry, but the present is a gift. That's why it's called the present.

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Drabble #7

Oh, my god. I'm in love with a 40 year old man.

I sat in my chair as I let this thought run its course through my mind, just like I had let other thoughts do so before, and especially this weekend, when I kept telling myself, you can't have everything you want. I had let the thought sit in the back of my skull as I leaned back against a bookshelf, waiting for it to engulf my body and soul with sadness and grudging acceptance. My throat felt like it had ten thousand fire ants crawling through it. I waited.