For “6 Sentence Stories,” our word this week is “space.” That reminds me of the story I shared last time, but I went in a different direction than that.
Her chest constricts; there’s not enough space, too many people in this room.
If she sits in the pew, she prefers the edge, as the middle is stifling, and she prefers a clear view of the door in any room.
The quarter she spent in a small, windowless math class was torture.
She feels sad not to sing, but the practice room is too small, too crowded with this new choir — she’s tried.
When people ask her why she doesn’t sing in the choir, she says she can’t because she works during the time that they practice.
Even when that wasn’t an outright lie, she was not being honest.
For the 3 Things Challenge today, the theme is still “ducks,” and the words are DIVE, SWIM, and WADDLE. My self-imposed challenge was to use all these words and not write about ducks. 🙂
This is barely a poem, but here is what I came up with:
Life is like a swimming pool
And I, an alleged swimmer:
Unable to dive, I am thrown into depths
Probably able to keep from completely
But my swimming is equivalent to waddling.
Yeah, I’m not good at this whole “life” thing. The good news is, I’ve been peaceful recently, and writing makes me feel alive in a good way.
Fun fact: This poem does describe my actual swimming ability (or lack thereof).
Fandango has a “story starter” challenge, and this is the first time I am trying it. His words are in bold.
I woke from a sound sleep up with a start, turned on my nightstand light, and…
Wondered about the meaning of the dream that had just invaded my subconscious. Really, it was more of a nightmare, so I didn’t want to think TOO much about it. Having such difficulty finding a peaceful place. Peaceful places, interrupted by sudden Fiery Explosions. Then realizing that I was in a dream, so I did not have to get hurt by the explosion, even though everyone around was obliterated.
Does this dream have a happy ending or not?
I turned off the lamp and tried to fall back asleep, hoping not to enter into that same precarious and disturbing scenario.
P.S. I had a dream like this last night.
The moon is new, and so the sky is dark.
The stars are shining someplace but not here.
The difference ‘twixt Now and Then is stark,
For nighttime’s Guide is gone, and there’s the fear
Of what comes next, no, even what is Now —
Rewriting of the story not allowed.
Shared with DVerse OLN because I wanted to post a poem today, short though it is.
Yesterday and today I wrote this 6-sentence story to share.
The question posed to every little girl or boy: “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Rebecca, at age 6, wanted to be a ballerina — or maybe a teacher, an author, or an astronaut. “Maybe,” she exclaimed, “I can dance in space and teach all the aliens!”
Twenty years later, Rebecca found her path much less open than it had appeared before, and even being a teacher seemed out of reach. The world was changing, had been for years, and all she could do was watch everything morph into unfamiliarity.
“If society gets too crazy, if Earth becomes uninhabitable,” she thought, “I could still become an astronaut.”
We envy the hourglass,
Eschew the ruler, but
Fear the apple and pear.
Why do we insist on classification,
And idolization of passing things?
I am not a fruit
Nor a measurement implement
Nor even a timepiece --
I think what we want, really,
Is for that hourglass
To turn itself upside-down.
Image found on image search
Illustration just in case you are a man and/or don’t know what I’m talking about then I refer to pears, apples, etc.
This free-verse poem was written for MVB: Pear and Brian’s challenge about insecurity.
This is another poem I’m nervous about posting. I’m really not as vain as this might make me sound. A lot of people think eating disorders are about vanity. They’re not. They’re more about control and trying to find a way to feel good about oneself. The media and beauty ideals are a contributing factor, but I had the perfect set of personality traits and life experiences to be susceptible to the media’s messaging. If I had any shred of self-esteem or self-worth back then, I wouldn’t have felt the need to change what I looked like. Plus, once I started, I couldn’t stop because of A. people’s compliments, which I craved like a drug, and B. the realization that starving calmed my anxiety. You do it enough, it literally makes you feel high.
I didn’t mean to write so much about what causes eating disorders (it frustrates me that a lot of people blame just the media and photoshop), but there you go.
I am on the fence about whether to share this one or not. It’s a décima. I’m not sure if it’s “good,” but it’s the best poem I’ve got for today. I wrote it yesterday and wanted to post more than a meme today. The situation this poem is about is very complicated… Also, I realized belatedly that this poem fits with the theme of Brian’s prompt about insecurity, so I am linking up. However, I intend to share another one tomorrow, since this only coincidentally has to do with feeling insecure.
The time will never be just right
To make a necessary change:
It will always feel a bit strange,
Walking with only a dim light.
When fear arises, know life might
Get better on the other side,
Fear weakens when it is defied.
There is a sorely-needed leap
For one to take, and must not keep
Putting it off, so terrified.
This is going to be another ranting / rambling post. You have been warned.
I saw a post on Instagram, the other day, along the lines of “Don’t trust the thing that’s trying to kill you.” Don’t trust the eating disorder. Don’t trust , the depression. Whatever. Don’t trust the PMDD or whatever is going on with me this time. But if I can’t trust the very body I live in, then what can I trust. Jesus, of course. “Jesus” is always the answer, isn’t it, my Christian friends? It’s too bad when you don’t particularly like Him these days, but you can’t deny or ignore His existence. Go ahead and give me the “worst Christian” award; I don’t care.
Yesterday was this month’s full moon. Maybe that’s why I am being a LUNAtic! I’m a little obsessed with the names of each month’s full moon. July’s is called the Buck Moon because deer’s antlers are growing at this time (allegedly).
I started a cherita about this earlier and am finishing it now:
I am obsessed with the full moon,
Periodically feeling like a total lunatic,
Personality eclipsed, it's absolutely
Hysterical but not funny at all. It shines
Like an unwanted spotlight, and I can't
Hide; the moon can't leave the stage either.
Brian’s prompt this week is bullies. I was going to wait until tomorrow to write and post for this, but I am in a perfect situation right now: the bully in my head who is calling me fat and ugly and stupid, and the anxiety that won’t calm down. Contrary to what people probably see and what everyone thinks they know, I don’t always do well in fighting against the eating disorder “voice,” and my gosh, I have really pissed it off today! This poem was written all at once. It was like, “3, 2,1, go!” and these words came out.
There's a Bully in my head,
It wants me small and wants me dead,
It says I've still got pounds to shed,
I've made it very mad.
It reminds me of the food I've had
Today and all this week. I'm sad
It's back, it's gotten really bad,
But at least I ate.
The Bully wants to hell create,
Depression and Anxiety mate
To form a monster -- is it Fate?
But I'm fighting and fed.
Depression and anxiety
Take away so much from me,
That tag-team ongoing robbery
Of happiness and peace.
Plastering a smile on
Not always real, joy gone
Sailing ‘til an unknown dawn
Reeling, waiting for storms to cease.
Depression and anxiety
Build a cell, and sell the key,
Keeping me there hostilely,
Not planning my release.
A poem for FOWC: Robbery, MVB: Plaster, and MLMM’s Saturday Mix: Double Take. I only used one of the two pairs of homophones (and “sail” but not “sale”) but included a different pair. I hope that counts. 🙂
P.S. This poem does not describe my current emotional state.