Cigarettes and an Orange Soda_Farewell the Crickets Sang_Unbelievable_To Know Myself is Knowing You
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Cigarettes and an Orange Soda
I have to tell you a secret.When I was younger I made a mistake. I haven’t told anyone because I was too afraid of what they’d think of me. But I am older now, and all the people who I let down have long since been returned to the ground. All these years I let the weight of my knowledge settle heavy on my mind like cement, coating my thoughts, weighing me down.I was ten years old when I found the receipt. It wasn’t much, just a water stained scrap of paper that had slipped down behind the driver’s seat of our ‘72 Ford Squire station wagon. The receipt had settled among the cigarette butts and ...
Farewell the Crickets Sang
Five years ago the despondent, grim-faced prisoner was found guilty of treason, contesting a corrupt law that only favoured the rich, the greedy and the malicious. In his mind, the concept of power should have been pided equally amongst the town, to the joyous people, and dispensed like a wheel of cheese, for all the mouths in the village to feast upon uniformly, but it wasn’t meant to be. “You call yourself a king!? The people are starving, and you sit on your pompous throne fattened like a rotten boar! You’re a no good rat!” Cauldron shouted at his tribunal, handcuffed and already knowing hi...
Unbelievable
Janey jogged aimlessly until her face was red, her nose was dripping, and her fingers were throbbing with cold in the late November afternoon. Skippy, a collie-mix with a shaggy coat who was usually impervious to the weather, trotted beside her with his head down and his tail between his legs. Janey noticed his miserable demeanor with a pang of remorse. It was almost dark now and she looked around the deserted park uneasily, glad to see they were near the entrance gates. She had been oblivious, absorbed in the misery of her latest job rejection and worry about bills. Her struggle to mainta...
To Know Myself is Knowing You
Aviana I have trouble with emotional regulation. I cry consistently, over everything. When I receive good news, such as being promoted or when I was accepted to the school of my dreams. On the other hand, sadness in the form of my partner saying something evenly remotely hurtful or overthinking my work. With words and situations, everything is magnified. I'd like to wonder what my life would be like without mental illness. Ever since my diagnosis, I assume everything is wrong with me and my mental health is an excuse when things go wrong. I like to pretend I'm normal sometimes by conforming to...