love
All you need is Love, and Love is all you need.
One Miracle Left
It’s a windy late afternoon, like so many other windy late afternoons. I can just see the sun, hidden behind the dust and dirt that hangs in the air as if it’s always been there and always will be. The dust and dirt that must move in the wind, but never seems to change from day to day, as if there’s a filthy lid over the world. It is late afternoon of a day measured not by hours or ticks on the clock, but by the dim light of the sun, masked by clouds thick with sand and dirt. It is measured not by the endless drone of mind numbing television told in thirty minute blocks, but by the stories that the old man relates as he sits on the steps, to anyone willing to listen. There is an old clock in the garage, behind the skeleton of a car stripped of any part that could be used or traded. It’s hands forever proclaiming 3 o’clock, and nobody knows why it stopped just then. Or they aren’t willing to talk about it, because of what happened just then. It could have been so many things and none of them really matter now because there’s no going back. So we move forward, at a pace measured by the sand and the stories and the dim light of the sun. And I think about you.
By Mark Abukoff5 years ago in Humans
BLUE, THIS ONE’S FOR YOU
June 13 May 17, 2021 My therapist told me I should start writing my thoughts down in a little black book, that was a month ago. She gave it to me for free, at least. I already know these entries are going to make me sound like a drama queen and probably won’t even help me deal with the real problem. I would never write down the truth. Facing the truth wouldn’t help me. Even if she says so. Yes, I know I am contradicting myself by paying ninety fucking dollars to stare at each other while she waits for me to pour myself open. Ninety dollars to stare blankly at the wall, ninety dollars to hear the clock ticking by, ninety fucking dollars of pretending I will make progress. Knowing I never will. Nothing will change. There is no going back or forward. I am stuck in the present...I don’t want to write anymore.
By Dany Elizarraras5 years ago in Humans
You're Not Grace!
Anna quickly glanced at the smooth, leather cover of the black notebook in the passenger seat. She knew the importance of such a small notebook. After all, she has one just like it. Well, sort of. Anna’s notebook is soft leather, rather than hard. Hers is a pretty matte purple, instead of shiny black.
By Stephanie J. Bradberry5 years ago in Humans
Forever Yours
Reaching into the seat pocket in front of me, I expected to find the usual airline magazine, emergency sick bag or in-flight menu. Instead, I found a small plain black notebook. It was simple, inconspicuous, almost boring in design. As I opened the book to try and learn who owned it, I saw pages and pages of love letters, which to a hopeless romantic like myself is anything but boring. I suppose that's the beauty of such a book, the fact that for each owner, it can be a vessel for many different forms of art, literature or release. They can choose to share it with the world or keep it entirely to themselves in a discreet little black book.
By Hanna Tittel5 years ago in Humans
Dear Alice,
Dear Alice, My heart is so big. " Yes as it should be! who in the world ever made you think that is a bad thing?" I feel like I give a lot to others, and I do not receive the same amount of adoration back. Now I feel shut out and closed off to the other humans around me, because I don't want to get hurt!
By tiaana valentine5 years ago in Humans
Found
I’m Celeste Lesk. Try to say that fast three times. My friends call me ‘Cellesk’. This year has been tortuous for the following reasons: I lost my job (ok, not a great job, but a JOB that paid the rent and kept me in art supplies); I lost my car keys. Not a huge deal except my car had been stolen, I couldn’t make a claim without the keys on a liability only policy, blah-blah; this whole pandemic thing that keeps me from friends and family, making me want to curse at anyone I see without a mask; AND, I lost my sketchbook. That was the crowning touch for this rueful year. I just started sketching two years ago, disappearing into that sketchbook regularly; people, things, places, animals – whatever my heart tugs at my pencil to capture. It was mostly full, as were the four previous books. Full of memories, symbols, figurative thoughts. I don’t take pictures with my phone any more, mostly because I’ve lost two phones (yes, there is a pattern of “loss” in my life), much preferring to capture what my eyes were seeing with a pencil.
By Kathleen Hope5 years ago in Humans
Fate, Free Will, and What Are the Chances You’re Free Friday?
The room was dark, cold—square. It felt lonely and immensely, oppressively sad. As if it carried a weight too heavy for its creaking floorboards. Why it felt this way was not discernible from any single object. It’s not what the room had—but what was missing—that filled it with this all-pervasive sadness that settled upon everything like an early morning mist.
By Natalie Vilotijevic5 years ago in Humans
You are worthy of the love you desire
In order to get what you desire and deserve you have to know where you're going. We know this is true for every area of our lives and most of us have no issue asking for clarity from our boss, from our personal trainer, or even from our friends.
By Gisele Plamondon5 years ago in Humans
Back of my heart
It’s been almost 13 years since the night we met. And I still remember it like it was yesterday. A chance meeting. A friend of a friend led me there. I almost didn’t go but got pushed by two friends there. I had recently broken up with someone who had kept me locked away for almost three years. I hadn’t been to a party in so long but I went. Walking into the party I was nervous and questioning why I even went and then I saw you. Like something from a fairytale or rom-com, a “meet cute” as they call it. From across the room our eyes met, I pointed you out to my friend and she dragged me over to you. From that moment we spent the rest of the party drinking and laughing. At its end my two friends, your two roommates and us went back to your house. We drank more and as they played guitar hero we made our upstairs, to your room. You picked me up against the wall and kissed me, your nose and lips ran up my neck and you told my my perfume drove you crazy. You told me I was beautiful. We spent hours in your room. You undressed me and yourself. We laid in your bed laughing, talking and kissing. You said you wouldn’t sleep with me that night because I wasn’t that type of girl. To prove to me that you respected me. You made me laugh, you made me feel happy and loved from the moment you spoke to me, touched me, kissed me. I remember leaving after the sun was up, giggling with my friends about you and how amazing I felt. How I couldn’t believe the way I felt. Then you broke me. The whirlwind of a romance didn’t last long. You told me you wanted to take me on your trip home to Alaska to meet your parents, to see where you grew up. I hesitated. And maybe that hesitation sparked what happened next. Not long after you got back I started seeing you less, you started lying. And then that same friend of a friend who brought us together told me you were “hooking up”, as she put it, with someone else. A someone else I knew. And I was crushed. My heart wasn’t just broken, it was shattered. I couldn’t believe it. You were the man I had always dreamed of. I thought this was it. This was perfect. But to you, I guess, I was just another girl, just another notch, soon to be a distant memory. You were in the Navy and soon after assigned to a different base out of state. You contacted me not long after leaving, you said that you were sorry, that you thought what you did would make it easier for me once you left. That hurting me, having me hate you would make it easier for me to let go. But you were wrong, it hurt worse. So much worse. And it didn’t change how I felt about you. I barely got to be with you and yet I still fell in love with you. A love I’ve never been able to let go of. A pain I’ve never been able to let go of. Over the years we talked periodically. After you I feel into a relationship with someone else, a someone else who lied to me, hurt me, manipulated me and tormented me. You blamed yourself, you told me it was your fault I was with him, if you hadn’t left me I wouldn’t have been with him, I would be with you. You got stationed in Italy and asked me to come see you. And I hesitated, again. Then you got married. You had two kids, a boy and a girl. I got in and out of abusive relationships with other people and myself. I fell into a drug addiction that tore my life apart. Then I got sober, I had two kids, two girls. But still in an abusive relationship. Still not happy. And I still think of that night, of you. How it made me feel, how it still makes me feel. How things could’ve been different if I hadn’t hesitated. If I’d let go of my past and gone to Alaska. If I’d let go of my pain, trusted you and gone to Italy. If things would’ve been different, if we’d still be together. Or maybe we were just destined to be a heart break. A distant memory of young love that died before it ever truly began. A dream of a life over written by reality. Whatever it was or could’ve been will always live in my heart. I don’t know if that love or pain will ever go away. I just know that after 13 years it’s still there. That first night is still there. A dream of a future where we meet again and get another chance is still there. And I wonder if I’m still there in your heart. If you ever think of me and what could’ve been. Maybe what could still be. DLG, named after your father. The Irish middle name I used to tease you about when you would make fun of my goofy laugh, the laugh you loved. Memories tucked away in my soul. Memories and a love I will never let go.
By Sam Slater5 years ago in Humans
