Quill

 

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Image: Pixabay

Staring blank I were

Awed by a lush, vivid quill

Crimson; serious

 

Dreamy ideas

My eyes gazed at the paper

Weathered; Broken in

 

Goosebumps on my skin

Oh the worlds I could create

Paper; quill and soul

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/quill/

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Pluck the Pansies

 

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Image: Pixabay

 

When I was little, I was a kid. And when I was a kid, I did things because I wanted to do them. I had no insurgent idea about right and wrong or good and bad.

I just was.

Others instilled inside of me the fears, doubts, hopes, dreams, love, hate, good and bad that leaked inside me and I carried this into society as I grew.

That’s how it goes.

One day, I was standing in my grandmother’s yard, awed by the beauty of flowers by the front step. Their bright petals with the dark colored faces stunned my thoughts as I stood motionless; the beauty captivated my little mind and I needed to be closer.

I bent down and smelled the brilliant blooms and just like that, I plucked the delicate flower from its bed.

I plucked it for my own selfish needs – for no other reason. I just wanted it.

I stole its little life.

I skipped away with my new trophy.

I would steal flower lives intermittently as my life swirled and changed. They were so pretty, so magical.

I wanted to be like the flowers I picked.

Then one day long after that day…

It didn’t matter how many flowers I picked.

They would always die. And so would my happiness.

 

Later, after many withered flower carcasses…

I let the flowers just be – as I just was – and I would visit them.

And their enchanting beauty would be there.

Just as I was.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/pluck/

Abuse: A Personal Essay

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Life was ironing out when I met him. I was fourteen, a sophomore in high school (I was one of those lucky kids born in January) and excited about this new chapter in my life. Adjusting to high school was awkward, but I made a couple friends.

Gym class though… ugh.

My parents were fighting a lot because my father was trying to get sober and not having a good go at it. Life was getting uncomfortable which is why when I got to high school, temptation got the best of me.

There were difficult roads I could have traveled to make life easier, but I chose painful roads that made life difficult.

I met a guy who was way too old for me but that’s what I thought I needed – an older boy with a car, who smoked and had a regular job.

A boy who could get me out of my home life of hell.

And he did.

He was a boy who I fell for blindly; the outside cool and handsome, the inside black and miserable.

He scraped me off one level of hell and dropped me in a deeper one.

First it started with my clothes.

Then it was my make up.

After that it was my friends.

Who is he?

Why is he standing so close to you? I saw you touching him.

Why do you smell like sex?

Ridiculous.

Then it got worse.

I wished for a pair of horse blinders to wear.

We were at a red light in his pick up truck one afternoon and there was a guy on the corner. Waiting for the bus I guess?

I made the mistake of looking to my right and as fast as I saw him, I turned away.

Suddenly, the right side of my face was kissing the passenger side glass.

There was a sharp pain in the left side of my head.

“What are you looking at? Do you wanna fuck that guy? Huh? You think he’s cute?”

What?

I was only looking out the window.

I didn’t mean it.

I’m sorry.

He got out of the truck and approached the man. “You like my girl, huh?”

The man seemed confused.

Suddenly, the man was on the ground being pummeled.

These idiots on the street, walking around minding their own business. Didn’t they know what would happen if I looked at them? If they looked at me?

After that, I scanned the roads as far as I could see, looking for people so I could look away when we got close.

They didn’t know, but I knew. I knew the danger we would be in if I looked at you and you looked at me.

The beatings depended on his mood.

I did my best to make sure he was always happy.

The Daily Prompt: Blindly

 

Mind Control

via Daily Prompt: Control

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How much control do I really have?

The only thing I can control is my mind.

So when I get that urge to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night, and slink down to the bad part of town I avoid like the plague, I have to beat those thoughts back with common sense. I have to control them.

It’s not easy.

I blame so many people, places and things when the battle becomes exhausting in this never ending war on my sanity – my life.

I haven’t been to that place, that hell, that devil’s den of bad choices in almost eleven years.

Those thoughts blossom in my mind when I get comfortable and complacent. They sprout like sick weeds in a garden of naive flowers.

No matter how many weeds I pull or kill, new ones grow and wait, searching for that weak crack in my foundation.

Control? I have enough to keep me alive.