Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Places you don't want to go back to.
Just a little bit more.
She mouths to herself as she stares at her body in the mirror, the bright light highlighting the spots on her face, the way her hair accentuated her eyebrows too much, and the round little bulge that was supposedly her waist.
She sucks it in.
Twenty-four inches now, she realizes. She should be satisfied, but not quite.
It's not enough. [It never is.]
"Two more inches, and you'll be exactly like Shannon."
Even if you'll never be pretty enough or charming enough. No one's going to love you for long. No one's going to love you enough.
Just a little bit more.
//
You're in the bathroom, and you're feeling disgusted-disgusted at what you had for dinner.
A cup of rice, a chocolate bar, meat.
If you didn't know any better, one would think you were hungry.
But.
Hunger was a sign of weakness, and you, of all people,couldn't be weak.
You rummage through a drawer. You're sure you'd hidden some laxatives somewhere. Those would work. In fact, you probably had a diet pill or two, but you wouldn't want to resort to that so soon.
Again, those were for the weak.
And, as for you? Well. You had self-control.
You lean over the sink, and stick your finger down your throat, relishing the same, overbearing, nauseating feeling that leeches off the rest of your senses.
Three minutes later, and you turn down the faucet, hoping to wash all traces of your humanity away.
//
She's proud of herself, but her mother isn't.
Her mother's reassuring words masked the growing worry in her eyes. [Don't worry; your aunt Alice was an awkward young girl She looked like you, actually. Look; she grew up to be a model.]
She rolls her eyes.
She hasn't vomited in a while. She finds she doesn't want to.
She's in control.
[It's better not to eat.]
//
Your period hasn't returned yet, you think to yourself, and all the doctor can mouth is: Yourbody'snotdeveloping,yourchest'snotforming,notgrowinganytaller,
you'restuckinsomesortoflimbo.Andmaybewhenwesaveyou,youwillnevergrow
toyourfullpotentialYou'llneverbethewomanyoucouldhavebeen.
[You need help.]
//
It's not instantly that you realize it, but since when did you start looking like a Holocaust survivor?
You are satisfied, aren't you?
Hundred-pound girl no more.
[You just might be worse.]
//
It's funny, but even Karol tells her she's getting too skinny.
She snaps back. You encouraged me. I thought you were my friend.
Nobody quite understands.
[Not even herself.]
//
One day, sometime in March of your freshman year, you break down.
You try to tell a friend of yours. [Of course you don't want to bother everyone.]
Help me.
//
One day, she escapes.
//
You hope you'll never find your way back.
||
Not very well-written, but hey, it's not fluff. Yay.
She mouths to herself as she stares at her body in the mirror, the bright light highlighting the spots on her face, the way her hair accentuated her eyebrows too much, and the round little bulge that was supposedly her waist.
She sucks it in.
Twenty-four inches now, she realizes. She should be satisfied, but not quite.
It's not enough. [It never is.]
"Two more inches, and you'll be exactly like Shannon."
Even if you'll never be pretty enough or charming enough. No one's going to love you for long. No one's going to love you enough.
Just a little bit more.
//
You're in the bathroom, and you're feeling disgusted-disgusted at what you had for dinner.
A cup of rice, a chocolate bar, meat.
If you didn't know any better, one would think you were hungry.
But.
Hunger was a sign of weakness, and you, of all people,couldn't be weak.
You rummage through a drawer. You're sure you'd hidden some laxatives somewhere. Those would work. In fact, you probably had a diet pill or two, but you wouldn't want to resort to that so soon.
Again, those were for the weak.
And, as for you? Well. You had self-control.
You lean over the sink, and stick your finger down your throat, relishing the same, overbearing, nauseating feeling that leeches off the rest of your senses.
Three minutes later, and you turn down the faucet, hoping to wash all traces of your humanity away.
//
She's proud of herself, but her mother isn't.
Her mother's reassuring words masked the growing worry in her eyes. [Don't worry; your aunt Alice was an awkward young girl She looked like you, actually. Look; she grew up to be a model.]
She rolls her eyes.
She hasn't vomited in a while. She finds she doesn't want to.
She's in control.
[It's better not to eat.]
//
Your period hasn't returned yet, you think to yourself, and all the doctor can mouth is: Yourbody'snotdeveloping,yourchest'snotforming,notgrowinganytaller,
you'restuckinsomesortoflimbo.Andmaybewhenwesaveyou,youwillnevergrow
toyourfullpotentialYou'llneverbethewomanyoucouldhavebeen.
[You need help.]
//
It's not instantly that you realize it, but since when did you start looking like a Holocaust survivor?
You are satisfied, aren't you?
Hundred-pound girl no more.
[You just might be worse.]
//
It's funny, but even Karol tells her she's getting too skinny.
She snaps back. You encouraged me. I thought you were my friend.
Nobody quite understands.
[Not even herself.]
//
One day, sometime in March of your freshman year, you break down.
You try to tell a friend of yours. [Of course you don't want to bother everyone.]
Help me.
//
One day, she escapes.
//
You hope you'll never find your way back.
||
Not very well-written, but hey, it's not fluff. Yay.
Friday, April 8, 2011
There is only so much fluff a girl can take before she wants to start writing about narcotics, psychosis and alcohol again.
Inspired by a conversation I had with a couple of classmates a couple of weeks back.
And to think it all started with, "I am never going to have kids."
"Ditto that."
//
I stare at you as your tiny hand grasps my littlest finger with the firmest of grips that tugs at my heartstrings. A smile eases its way into my face just watching you--but lately, it's like it's always been there, with just a coo from you, or a fragment of a moment of you waving your little arms about, wanting your mama. Mama---I laugh at the word--who would've thought it? I study you, my eyes drinking you in, at the same time wondering why my own mother never told me exactly how this felt--this warm emotion suffusing through my being, lending grace to my every movement concerning you. Love. A mother's love.
As you lie sleeping against my chest, my hands--once so shaky, gradually turned steady as I get used to your warm weight, supporting you, I realize how much you look like your father, with your clouds of brownish-black hair, pale-pale skin, and that charming demeanor which I'm sure will enchant a multitude of girls in your time--but for now, you're mine. Mama's boy. You open your eyes and gurgle. There is a part of me I gave to you, after all--my eyes: quiet, searching, earnest. And in this moment, I am reassured. Though I know I can't always be there for you, my sweet, I've left you this--these eyes --to see, and for your soul to be seen.
Just like somebody has seen through mine.
//
Ugh. Too much fluff. And, hurriedly written because I'm off to the mall again.
And ugh. Weird fluffy emotions. This happens only in my writing, okay?
I have plans for the future, and it does not, in the near future, involve children.
Quoting my mother (because I am my mother's daughter, after all), "I am good with children, but not with my own." (I beg to differ with her, but still.)
Ugh. Fluff.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
I can't get your smile out of mind. (I can't get you out of my mind.)
Cheesy song number three.
I am currently addicted to the Jonas Brothers' Love Bug. The only song of theirs that I like. I've liked it since what, first year?
Anyway, I just took this personality test, and here are the results. Comments of mine are in between the parentheses. :p
Always happy in a crowd, you love to converse, to relate, and above all to have fun. You tend to think in a more holistic manner than many others. (No, I just tend to see things from every angle, and try to think from other people's perspectives.) Like a crow you are attracted to shiny objects, new ideas, playful exciting colors and the thrill of a new personal relationship. You love to talk or gossip. (xoxo, you know you love me.)You are highly invested in the reality of day-to-day life. Practicality is far more important than issues of honor or allegiance. (I am offended at this. I do what I can to get by, but I keep my word. And I stick by people I genuinely care about.) You are a creature of the here and now. You are a natural multi-tasker (This! So many projects I want to work on.) , often switching mid-thought from one duty to another (Unfinished ones, though.). You have a flair for presenting your personality in your work (Heaven knows I try not to.), and are known as a great storyteller and natural actor. You are very skilled at taking in a barrage of information and distilling what is most important from it (Handy in research class.). Naturally charming (I am amused. Colorgenics said I have "personable charm". Now, if they were only real people.), you are quick to win new friends. Over stimulation is a danger. (What is truth. Warning: volatile and excitable. )
You can take the test here.
I am currently addicted to the Jonas Brothers' Love Bug. The only song of theirs that I like. I've liked it since what, first year?
Anyway, I just took this personality test, and here are the results. Comments of mine are in between the parentheses. :p
Always happy in a crowd, you love to converse, to relate, and above all to have fun. You tend to think in a more holistic manner than many others. (No, I just tend to see things from every angle, and try to think from other people's perspectives.) Like a crow you are attracted to shiny objects, new ideas, playful exciting colors and the thrill of a new personal relationship. You love to talk or gossip. (xoxo, you know you love me.)You are highly invested in the reality of day-to-day life. Practicality is far more important than issues of honor or allegiance. (I am offended at this. I do what I can to get by, but I keep my word. And I stick by people I genuinely care about.) You are a creature of the here and now. You are a natural multi-tasker (This! So many projects I want to work on.) , often switching mid-thought from one duty to another (Unfinished ones, though.). You have a flair for presenting your personality in your work (Heaven knows I try not to.), and are known as a great storyteller and natural actor. You are very skilled at taking in a barrage of information and distilling what is most important from it (Handy in research class.). Naturally charming (I am amused. Colorgenics said I have "personable charm". Now, if they were only real people.), you are quick to win new friends. Over stimulation is a danger. (What is truth. Warning: volatile and excitable. )
You can take the test here.
Chafed.
& I'm breathless from all the things I've done today when I see you, and it's not that you take my breath away, you make me realize how good it feels to just breathe. and for a moment, all the other things I'm supposed to do don't matter: not the neat piles of black and white paper, (in whose sheaves contain blood, sweat, tears and raw emotion); not the animated conversations I've left hanging (in whose depths I thought I drowned myself in), not even the sharp buzz of the phone in my bag, (in which voices from the other side impatiently wait for me to reply). It's just you, and I drink you in. I lean over to hug you, and when I do, it's like I instantly want to get lost in your arms (in this moment, who cares if I never find my way back?), but I'm just too sensible (so cursedly sensible) and I let go, knowing that behind us are people (oh-so-curious people) and we don't want them to talk (miring down their conversations with sharp edges of gossip and painful pricks of speculation). You walk away, to leave, and you might not see me (my lingering eyes following your retreating back) and for a moment, I think. (to hell with propriety) I want to run and say the words I usually have the sense not to tell you (or rarely have the courage to): Let's make so much more memories; I have no idea why; but you make me so happy; I think I love you?, the last three words reverberating endlessly in my mind (I love you? I love you? I love you?). But then, my phone impatiently buzzes again. I turn away, and click it open. "Hello, yes, I'm here already."
Friday, April 1, 2011
Cherish.
Exercise number two.
||
And it's early in the morning as the sunlight seeps in through our window, gently tracing lines on your cheek. I run my fingers along your chest, tracing circles lazily and leaning in to breathe in the scent of you. Your eyes flutter open. You're awake. I smile as your fingers travel to the curve of my breasts, my thoughts running towards how amazing it feels to have you--that I'm so much yours and you're somehow mine-our sense of possession has blurred at times. Then, your hands rest at the gentle curvature of my belly, feeling that tiny heartbeat whose source of resonance, we know, has nestled its way into the fabric of our lives. Whispering against my skin, you mouth only one word, "Ours."
||
And it's early in the morning as the sunlight seeps in through our window, gently tracing lines on your cheek. I run my fingers along your chest, tracing circles lazily and leaning in to breathe in the scent of you. Your eyes flutter open. You're awake. I smile as your fingers travel to the curve of my breasts, my thoughts running towards how amazing it feels to have you--that I'm so much yours and you're somehow mine-our sense of possession has blurred at times. Then, your hands rest at the gentle curvature of my belly, feeling that tiny heartbeat whose source of resonance, we know, has nestled its way into the fabric of our lives. Whispering against my skin, you mouth only one word, "Ours."
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