That bloody frame. It’s been crooked longer than you care to admit. Tilted just enough to piss you off every time you look at it. Just enough to sit in the back of your head whispering, 

And you could, couldn’t you? All it’d take is a couple of steps - no, scratch that - one step, two fingers, and it’s done. Straight. Sorted.

Because once you fix the frame, it all comes rushing in, doesn’t it? The walls with their streaks of grime, the carpet sticky with shame and spilled coffee from mornings you can’t even remember. The jungle out front, clawing at the lemon tree like it’s staging a coup. And you - sitting there on your arse, pretending you can’t see the mess piling up. Nine years of it. Nine years of dust and clutter and thick, unmoving blood.

Fix the frame, and the dam breaks. That’s how it works. The blood starts pumping again, and with it comes everything you’ve been dodging - fear, chaos, sorrow. And yeah, let’s talk about sorrow, shall we? Did sitting there, staring at the floor, stop any of it? Did your loved ones stop dying? Did your friends stop fading?

Nah, love. Sorrow came anyway, didn’t it?

Sure, you tried hiding. Best bloody healer in your online games. The Canary at your DnD table, patching everyone else up while cracking skulls on the side. You’re a legend in those worlds. But here? You can’t even fix yourself. Not because you can’t. Because you’re scared.

Scared that if you fix the frame, it doesn’t stop there. You’ll have to vacuum the guilt out of the carpet, scrub the shame off the walls, hack through the jungle strangling your yard. And what then? Life starts happening. Blood starts flowing. The good and the bad and all the messy shit in between.

But let me ask you this: When you stopped, when you sat there doing nothing, did life stop kicking you in the teeth? No? Then get up.

Fix the fucking frame. Straighten the bastard out. Clean the walls, save the lemon tree, unclog the blood. Let the fear come, let the mess come - let the fucking life come. Because the sitting still? The staring? It isn’t saving you.

Iris Diaries: Fix the Bloody Frame

Iris' Journal, February Ninth, 2025

That bloody frame. It’s been crooked longer than you care to admit. Tilted just enough to piss you off every time you look at it. Just enough to sit in the back of your head whispering, Oi, get up and fix me, ya lazy bugger. And you could, couldn’t you? All it’d take is a couple of steps - no, scratch that - one step, two fingers, and it’s done. Straight. Sorted.



Iris Diaries: Fix the Bloody Frame

Iris' Journal, February Ninth, 2025

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Mirror Maze

Iris Diaries: Fix the Bloody Frame

Iris' Journal, February Ninth, 2025

This is an Exclusive Story for supporters of .css-13w9qce-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-accent);}Iris Obscura

About the Creator

Iris Obscura

Comments

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Keep reading

Mirror Maze

This is an Exclusive Story for supporters of Iris Obscura