Pen to the Paper 7
"OH SHOOT!" I yelled at five in the morning, jumping off of the hotel couch bed and running into the bathroom.
"What's going on!?" Mom asked, jolting upright in bed.
"The heck, dude…" Dad said.
"I'm gon' be late!"
I slammed the bathroom door, waking up my sisters, and hopped into the shower. I was done in two minutes: something I had not done in ages. When I got out of the shower I realized that I did not grab any clothes on my way in. "You gotta be kidding me!" I said, wrapping the tiny towel around my waist. It didn't even go halfway down my thighs.
"Nothing else I can do," I said with a sigh, then I rushed into the part of the hotel room where the couch was at. I threw open my bag, grabbed my outfit for the day, ran back to the bathroom, and the door got slammed in my face. My sister had gone inside. "Hey--um--I kinda need in there."
"Well, I kinda need in here too. You can wait. You had your turn."
"No, you see, it was still my turn. I'm standing put here in just a--"
"DUDE! WE'RE TRYNA SLEEP OVER HERE!"
My mother's outburst confused me considering they wake up between three and four every morning. But I guess we are on vacation… kinda. Weekend away for a race.
My sister finally got out of the bathroom and I got dressed. "Be back soon!" I called, grabbing the keys.
"Where do ya think you're goin'?" Ma asked. "You don't even have your license yet!"
"Wanna come with then?"
"You're not goin' anywhere."
"I gotta announce Pen to the Paper 7 though!"
"Love ya," I said closing the door and running down the hall towards the elevator.
After leaving the hotel, I jumped into the car and sped away, driving haphazardly. "Turn left," the GPS said. "You idiot. I said turn left. Why did you turn left? You were supposed drive straight."
"It ain't my fault you make things unnecessarily complicated. Had you not said anything, I would have gone that way!"
After twenty more of these situations, I finally made it to my location: the beach. I grabbed a camera from the back, set up the tripod, and put the camera on top. The sun was rising beautifully behind me. I turned the camera on, and Maya called.
"Are you almost ready?" she asked.
"I'm about to broadcast. Let me know if my signal is coming through."
"Yep, it's working. Move to the left. The other left. Alright. Take two steps back. Now put the earpiece in and put your phone down: you're going live in 10… 9… 8… 7… Why haven't you put the earpiece in yet? 6…"
"I'll be back, I think it's in the car."
I searched the car: nothing.
"You were supposed to be live two minutes ago," she said when I finally got back.
"I left it at the hotel."
"Perfect. I guess you'll be using your phone. Going live now."
"Wait I'm not read--Hello everyone! Can't believe another month has passed… and you know what that means! Welcome to Pen to the Paper 7!!!"
A hidden river,
Flows through the grove of willows,
Old branches draping down,
Under the crumbling stone bridge,
That long ago,
Saw many carriages safely over the rushing waters,
Too unsturdy for cars,
To low for boats,
A path that is no longer used,
A river that gives no more,
Used to be a grand old time,
Used to be the life of the day,
But blondes in pink dresses,
No longer come,
Boys with fishing poles and caps ,
No longer come,
Mothers with picnic baskets and crying babies
No longer come,
Fathers with crates of beer and friends,
No longer come,
The green beside the river,
That Thin Line
Opening the window blinds to my living room,
I see a flock of sparrows scatter in fright.
Only a single sparrow remains on the ground,
Unphased by all his friend’s plight.
Giving me one look. Then continues to eat in solitude.
Thinking to himself, “More for me.”
I cannot tell whether that sparrow is a genius or a moron.
Often that thin line is impossible to see.
I just got an ad for rollerblades on Youtube, and I’m horrified. It must be because something heard me talk about them in my online classes half an hour ago. Or maybe it’s because I was surfing the web for a new pair last week, and the Internet hasn’t forgotten. I feel uneasy. Someone's just trying to sell me rollerblades. But why is it so offputting? It's not meant to be. The pretty colours and low prices are supposed to lure me in. This is just a few lines of code that sniff out keywords and generates a little ad. I don't like. I defy it in the only way I can, by scrolling away.
PS: I'm not a native English speaker - feel free to point out my mistakes! Thanks :)
Ok let me start. this is the aboslute worst. Blehhhh. Ugh. I try so hard to do what you say. You say no plane. i plan. I plan. I plan. That's what I do. I can't write without a plan. I think before I write. I have the whole thing written out in my head before I start. so I try not to. My story is yeah. Yep that is my story. I wanted to do something creative but guess what, I can't think about it before I do it. right? that is what you meant, right? Maybe not but I hope this is what you wanted. I have not stopped to think. Maybe for a second but yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yep it sucks. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. YEAH.
blooming amongst the rubble
Butterscotch and fine things
Doesn’t know what they mean anymore
Her grandmother’s house reeks of death and morphine
Hospice house, her uncle declared before he shot himself dead
Sick in the head, mad in their beds, the neighborhood children cry
And sometimes she thinks they’re right
Right about her, right about where the stains in the bed of the pickup truck came from
The best nights are found in the worst of times
So she’s off laughing in the subway and crying in Central Park
And partying alone in the Hamptons in a full loft that costs more than her tuition
She leaves the home that doesn't love her, doesn't acknowledge her
For the city that could care less whether she lives or dies
The city that doesn't care how long she's staying because she's just another wandering soul
She asks Zeus to strike her down because the only god she believes in is unfair and malicious
Isn’t that fitting? She’s bitter like sour hard candy
Incomplete like peanut butter sandwiches with the crusts cut off
Better things come after suffering is had, her father tells her
While he groans over budgets and turns a blind eye to the injustice around them
There isn't enough money in the world to cure its problems, Jolene, he says
But sometimes she thinks money is the problem
And even if he had money, he wouldn't spend it on anything but whiskey
She’s marching in June and sucking down superiority like cotton candy come July
Her ego needs a boost every once in a while
Red duct tape lining her soles, bleeding sacrificial imprints on every sidewalk crack
She cherishes the stains because at least something will remain when she is gone
Other than a half finished Magnum Opus and a bottle of perfume that smells like home
She still drops daisies at the cathedral, pretends at least someone watches over her
Still visits her mother’s grave every other month, lays down lilies in a clustered heap
Swipes a thin film of battle armor on her cheeks in the morning
Remembers how death is a fickle thing
How it comes for everyone and she doesn’t want to be next
to be her
to the you
five years from now
i will find out if
this body of mine was too small for my ambitions
i send a piece of me into the sky
hoping it will dye it
as other wishes have
endless sunsets before
may i visit places i've never seen before
speak languages not of my native tongue
may i rest when i need it
and have fun in the chaos
to be healthy and happy and comfortable
with endless opportunities before me
may i meet people who will make me fall in love with life
may i be friends with the girl in the reflection
may i make mistakes and learn from them in grace
five years from now;
to be her.
You told me just to write. Purge what I have been bottling up. Your thoughts, emotions, pain, happiness, and whatever else flows out of your mind. Right now, I am sitting in this apartment, which feels like an old prison, with DJ. A man who makes my anxiety increase very quickly and my mellow calm instantly. He makes it hard for me to breathe, makes me nervous for whats to come.
He is already in a mood and us being in the same room not talking is only making it worse. He looks at me and says "This is a lot of work, setting up this PS4. Do you think Bug should pick her own username?" I stated, "Whatever you want, I don't care." I knew in the end it did not matter, my opinion, he would do what he wanted to. He called Bug out of bed to get her to choose her username. I think it could have waited till morning.
Being here makes my skin crawl and I must hold back tears. So many memories and reminders of the past years that it is like a constant living flashback. The certain smells that waft through here take me back to the summer when Bug went to Texas and stayed with Mom. Days followed by nights of dope fueled interactions and fights. Mostly fights due to our completely different views on life, someone stole the others dope, and the fact that our memories were not saved exactly how they should have been.
After days and days of no sleep, little food, and minimal human interaction your mind starts to turn on reality. You start with little pieces of a story being off, then those little pieces grow into delusions. Delusions make you question whats reality and whats fantasy. You get to a point that you question your sanity. All side effects of the dope.
Due to those side effects our fights got out of control and were mostly over things that never happened or and something that did happen mixed with a crazy delusion. Either way, due to the circumstances they were all battels that had no end, no resolve. Without a resolution the fighting was never truly over. All that unresolved negative emotion between us caused us to never truly heal. We never had the opportunity to process, accept, and forgive. Without the ability to obtain closer I cannot forgive you and allow another chance for us to fall into a downward spiral.
#P2Pchallange #Mindpurge #wordvomit #newbie #downwardspiral