This shattered world is composed of a million shattered hearts
Our fragility is not to be taken lightly
Our fight is to be taken seriously
Like the fissured glass
Once broken, we are hard to put back together
Though we may come out different
It is not entirely impossible
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Worldly Encounters.”
To the friendly, English-speaking extraterrestrial outside my house,
I recommend to you the novel that speaks to me inside and out. And that is The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky.
This story is human nature at its finest. At its most vulnerable. At its great achieve-ability. It not only shows what the world has the ability to be, but it shows us the world as it truly is. It’s dirty and hurtful and cruel and unfair. It’s fearful and explosive and continuously demeaning. But the world is also beautiful and kind and can help heal your soul. It’s accepting and meaningful and unbelievably strong willed.
Between the traumas and hardships and all the self-hating, there’s a hand at the end of the tunnel willing to show you your worth, your importance, your purpose and strength. Its friendship and family and self love and acceptance.
It speaks to everything a person may go through–heartbreak, loss, abuse, mental illness & pain. Love, encouragement, acceptance, understanding & learning–and still find the ability to continue on. To not let life pass you by, but to move along side it. To find strength in your tears and empowerment from the mistakes you’ve made.
To let the past be your past and let the future be that of myths. To remember that today is all there is.
“What happens if you leave and there’s just life on the other side? Where does that leave us? Me?” I look into the dark eyes that I fell heart first into almost 2 years ago. I already know the answer.
“I don’t know”. His hands grip the counter and and I watch as his knuckles turn white. I find it ironic, really. Usually I’m the one white knuckling it through this life.
“You never know. But I do. This leaves me with nothing. I’m here and you’re over there and I have nothing. Without you I have nothing”. It’s almost entirely true. I would have nothing without him. I would also have nothing if I continue to eat this slice of cake. But I don’t tell him that.
“You don’t believe that. You can’t”.
“It’s the only thing I believe. You made me who I am. Who will I be once you leave? I don’t want to be who I was before. I can’t be that person again. I can’t”.
“You won’t”. He and I both know what he really means. The extravagant painting depicting The Old Man and the Sea hanging behind my head and the pink flip flops behind my back, with tags still in tact, both know what he means. So I say the one thing he expects. Whether or not it’s true is a different story.
“You won’t be around to see it”.
Inspired by The Daily Post, Odd Trio Redux.
I see you in the leftover space
In front of my eyes
And the film behind my lids
I see you in the mist
When my pupils expand
And the tears shed
I see you in the light
Spilling under the door
And the cracks in the walls
I see you in the stains
On my clothes
And in my heart
I see you in the corner
Of my eye
And the recesses of my mind
I see you in me
So I thought I would try a new thing. I’ve been trying to write some good short stories but I always get stuck somewhere in the middle. I thought that if I wrote a little something every week, I might be able to finish what I started. So here is part 1 of my untitled short story.
Hope you enjoy!
“I just wish he would come to me in a dream”.
The woman sitting next to me on the New Jersey Transit train spoke quietly into her phone. She sat with her legs crossed. In her lap sat a 12 oz beer can wrapped in a brown paper bag. I watched her through the reflection in the window as the towns slid past us. She continued to speak quietly, but her voice became more animated as she grew more comfortable speaking about the man she wished to be able to communicate with again.
“Once I talk to my medium, I know everything will be okay. I just need something.”
I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but from the woman’s response, it sounded as if it were one of reassurance. The woman clearly sought out spiritual guidance by channeling deceased loved ones on a regular basis. She also clearly found comfort in something that I had no relative knowledge about and was slightly on the more skeptical side of those types of things. But as the train sauntered closer to Bay Street, my mind stayed beside the woman trying to find some meaning in what she had experienced. Whether she wanted answers for herself or for this ethereal man, I had no idea. I couldn’t help but wonder who this man was. What he meant to this woman and how he was taken from this world. As I stepped off the train, my imagination wandered through all of the endless possibilities.
To be continued…
Unexpectedly, you lose your job. (Or a loved one. Or something or someone important to you.) What do you do next?
The weight of living is heavy and dense and sometimes overwhelming. Loss only adds to this weight, bringing down body, mind and soul and threatens to consume you. But these are the extra pounds that are necessary. Everything else can be added and taken away at will. Gotten rid of if it is no longer desired. Loss is never desired, wanted or hoped for. But it is there. If you can manage to carry the weight of loss on your shoulders and keep moving your feet, one step, one day at a time, you’ll learn. Learn how to carry the weight of everything else. And you’ll be stronger for it.
- “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” | Beauty