NostalgiaNostalgia3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Oh, how easily I forget things! I don't want to believe it is true, but the evidence is right there—right in front of my face! Everything comes back to me in a splash of information. Simply staring down at this reflective pool sends a wave of heavy nostalgia swimming through my mind like a fish.
Before becoming princess, I was nothing more than a country girl working on a farm. In some ways those days were much simpler than what I currently have to deal with—but at the same time, simply living a normal life could be tough. Let's look back, shall we?
Ten years ago, I didn't have to deal with politics, idiots spewing out gibberish, or strange men trying to marry me. The stress of authority never really got to me back then—and I'm sure you can very well imagine why. No surprises came out of the ol' country; never once did I find a parade of people rushing to see me or homeless men brawling on the street.
But I can't look at this from a completely biased perspectiv
the perils of fatherhoodIt is harder to love than to be loved, you said when I was born, and your voice was the voice of the doll with a cracked white face who wanted so desperately to be cared for.the perils of fatherhood2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
did you ever wonder what those words did to me how they ate into me and consumed me until i was nothing nothing nothing but dust and ash and smoke
You said it when I was two when my mother smiled and whispered to me until I said "I love you" and then ran and hid under the bed because the monsters were better than you.
It is harder to love than to be loved.
But I thought later that it hurt you more to hear those words than it did for me to say them.
We both knew they were a lie.
I dreamed I dreamed that you ran away down the road, threw your life into a suitcase and went to chase your nightmares in new york city with the angels but i woke up and remembered that grownups don’t run away and i felt so very very lost
You said it again when I was five and my aunt died and you didn't cry
DEAR FRIENDDEAR FRIEND.DEAR FRIEND2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I’ve been entitling a book for years.
Like a paper book full of hate could be consoling.
So I could pull you close and gently tell you about everything as though I were consoling you about my problems.
I want to kill myself
But not every day and I’m not sure how because I haven’t gone that far
Because I’m still hoping even when I’m on my knees clutching my hands in tight because my mind is flailing into the deep abyss that is oppression.
No not depression
O-P-R-ESSION - the cause of depression.
I can’t even tell you because you won’t listen
Yeah you’re there, you’re always there and I’m not mad at you because I know you tried your best
Just like a high schooler on a math test.
You have no idea how many knights my eyes are wider to cry all night,
watching the street like flicker
my own hand clasp over my mouth so you don’t hear pain dripp