humanity
For better or for worse, relationships reveal the core of the human condition.
After
You look around the dark and dusty office, not quite sure how you ended up here. It is actually bigger than it looks, but file cabinets and open boxes full of official forms clutter every wall and make the space claustrophobic. The office belongs to the woman behind the desk, who raises an unamused eyebrow as she looks first at you, then at the man sitting in the chair next to you. He wears eyeliner and a spiked choker, and the tips of his hair are dyed green. He squeezes the arms of the chair in a white-knuckle grip.
By Breanne Sanders5 years ago in Humans
Wide Gold Eyes
Hara kneeled low to the dirt. Her tugging and digging seemed to be futile. The blackberries were endless. It was something she had come to realize a little too late after she and Ash had moved up here to the north west a mere two months ago. “Go to the PNW! You’ll love the PNW, there are so many trees and there are others like you guys!” her parents had told her. She kind of resented how they would only call it that, as if it were some sports car. PNW, PNW.
By Alysa Delgado5 years ago in Humans
The Three Wishes
Legend has it, there was a barn owl deep in the forest that can grant 3 wishes, but all wishes come with a great price. One must not use such power for selfish needs, for you will be met with misfortune. Only those with pure hearts will get a chance to witness the owl and all of its glory.
By Raine Bello5 years ago in Humans
Shifting
The alarm clock goes off, I roll over and grab a rag and wipe my face; it’s that time again. As my pastor would say “today is the day that the Lord has made and we shall rejoice in it”. But I must admit I don’t feel like rejoicing, it’s 5AM in the morning and I’m looking at 14 hours of work, 500 miles of driving for pennies on the dollar. I can hear the sounds of the local barn owl hooting. He’s priming for supper and I’m thinking of breakfast. But I won’t get that at home. So like a cat burglar I tried to creep out of my own home without being detected. We’ll get back to that later😉.
By Clinton Brown5 years ago in Humans
Woman. Black Woman.
Whew! Being a sista in America is tiring. It will make you question yourself, like, "Is that me?". Yes bitch, that's you. All of it is you. We go from telling it like it is with a relaxed tongue sitting amongst our friends and family. To demonstrating sternness and eloquence with our children at home, to pomp, grammatical correctness, and enunciation at work. And then some. And don't mix them up. Especially don't take the other two facets to work. You know there we are seen as one dimensional creatures. Show one of those other sides you'll get yourself fired lol. No, but seriously. In America, a place that wants to define us so bad and put us in a box, during such turbulent times, I find myself questioning a lot, filtering more. When I watch the news and scroll through social media I become overwhelmed with so many emotions. It make me just want to put it all down and block it out. I'm tired. There are things that I am glad are being said and acknowledged, but still know that nothing is going to change. There are things being said that I don't agree with and hate that they attempt to represent us all. I make a conscious effort to not let what is playing out in the media stay to long in my head. I make sure it doesn't effect the way I treat people from day to day. Using my faith to keep myself grounded, I still have to show up and be a functioning member of society, a wife, a mother, a social worker. All these roles cause me to have to filter and even suppress me (to a certain extent) to show up and be present for others. This is a catch 22. Because part of me reducing my own stress and living my own truth, and being myself is literally not allowed 100% in any of the roles that monopolize most of my time. My roles are full of compromise, and poise, and being a helper and being supportive, and just showing up for others. I can't get away from it. I've learned to balance it but I get tired. I need a break. I need to check out. As I type its like most of it applies to all women, not just African American, but the guise of race puts a spin on it. All of those roles change when I put "black" in front of them. Black mother, black wife, black social worker, black member of society. It adds extra talks, extra environmental stressors, extra self awareness, extra filtering. Extra mindfulness. Its a lot of extra stress. Extra Pressure. To perform, to get it right. To protect. We never get to turn it off ladies. Except with each other. I know when I see you with your friends dressed down, using slang, rapping your favorite song that it doesn't mean you're not smart, college educated, or a great mom. I understand that, that same woman will be in dress pants and pumps conducting a meeting downtown tomorrow. I know when I see you out with your kid(s) alone it doesn't mean that you don't have a husband or supportive partner at home preparing for your return. I understand that, that same woman is on Tik Tok doing the Buss It Challenge after she puts those same kids to bed that night. And it doesn't take anything from her. It doesn't define her. Its just one facet.
By Constant Favored 5 years ago in Humans
Cauilleach-oidhche Geal
She had known, she thought as she laid down in fresh, cool sheets, that her troublesome sleep would worsen before it improved as she adjusted to the strangeness of a new apartment. The night was taut with uncomfortable tension; the house, long accustomed to emptiness, creaked and groaned in adjustment to unfamiliar possessions and an unfamiliar being.
By Autumn Wallis5 years ago in Humans
