Relationships
The Curse: A Love Story
Nobody calls their bank because they’re having a good day. This was the chief reason that I hated my job as much as I did. Eight hours each day, Monday through Friday, is a lot of time out of one’s life to be screamed at by irate clients who somehow had the idea that I possessed enough power to undo their late fees and bounced checks. And it was one of the reasons why, on the morning I first heard your voice, I was so startled by it.
By Sophie Colette4 years ago in Pride
Turbulent Night.
Ted woke up, precisely one minute before his alarm went off, that day, like millions, of days before it. He huffed at it, when it finally went off, and turned the damn thing off. He never used his cell phone, he stuck to the old clock his mom and dad gave him. It was one of the first things they gave him, it had seen very better days. A few mornings it had gotten 'accidentally knocked off the night stand, when he was still in high school.
By Capt. Dash4 years ago in Pride
Viridia
I didn’t normally walk on the boardwalk at night alone. Not because it was dangerous, but because being surrounded by so many jovial merchants, kids laughing, and lovers on dates typically left me feeling sad and lonely, like fulfillment was evading me and me alone. The smell of the funnel cakes always made me nauseous and it would linger in my chest, saccharine and cheap, until I felt like I couldn’t breathe, reminding me of my general aversion to joy. The radio host on the station they blare over the speakers has a voice like a dial tone and it would loop in my head like The Hum. I still know it like the back of my hand. The air smells like cotton candy and gum that’s been pressed into the pavement with sneakers and the best places to see the water are crowded with cigarette smokers and tourists. I hated the boardwalk. I really did. In my experience, it was just an exhibition of joys- a set up to remind me that my mind is a rabid fiend looking to taint everything golden. Sometimes it felt like it existed just to remind me that no joy survives in my mind, and to taunt me with the idea that I may be the only one. I never wanted to be there. Ever. But, if ever there was a time I couldn’t stand the mere idea of crossing through that godforsaken stretch, it was that night.
By Marina Arkana4 years ago in Pride
Green Light
I didn’t normally walk on the boardwalk at night alone. Not because it was dangerous, but because being surrounded by so many jovial merchants, kids laughing, and lovers on dates typically left me feeling sad and lonely, like fulfillment was evading me, and me alone. The smell of the funnel cakes always made me nauseous, and it would linger in my chest, saccharine and cheap, until I felt like I couldn’t breathe. It was an unwelcome reminder of my general aversion to joy. The radio host on the station they blare over the speakers has a voice like a dial tone and it would loop in my head like The Hum. I still know it like the back of my hand. The air smells like stale cotton candy and gum that’s been pressed into the pavement with sneakers and the best places to see the water are crowded with cigarette smokers and tourists. I hated the boardwalk. I really did. In my experience, it was just an exhibition of joys- a set up to remind me that my mind is a rabid fiend looking to taint everything golden. Sometimes it felt like it existed just to remind me that no joy survives my mind, and to taunt me with the idea that I may be the only one. I never wanted to be there. Ever. But if ever there was a time I couldn’t stand the mere idea of crossing through that godforsaken stretch, it was that night. I’d just been harassed by some of the regulars at the local co-ed gym who adamantly claimed to be under the influence of my attire…and they got pretty nasty. I ran off in tears. The last thing I needed that night was to enter another sadistic liminal space. Somehow, however, I knew I was meant to go there. It started with an unexplainable tingling in my bones, a hysteria in my aura; something beckoning me to walk that way. I brushed it off at first, reasoning that it was just delirium as a result of the 3 and a half hours I had just spent at the gym…but the thing about omens and inklings, I suppose, is that you can’t really ignore them.
By Marina Arkana4 years ago in Pride
Living Without Love - Being Aroace
Whether we realise it or not, the world we live in pushes romance on us at every opportunity. Fairy tales are often centred around someone finding their 'one true love', partners are often referred to as someone's 'better' half or parts, apparently around 60% of songs are love songs (though different sources suggested different amounts) and anyone without a partner (especially if they are older) is usually depicted as sad and lonely or wishing that they did have one.
By Indie Warren4 years ago in Pride
