Screw it , I'm going to write this book.
I was seven, but I didn't remember it until I was 13. It was almost a blessing that my mind hid it from me, it would have weighed my small spirit down before it had the chance to bloom. He visited throughout those 6 years and I would laugh at his silly jokes. I thought he was funny. Now not so much, the memory has tainted all the others. It has reset the tone of every interaction. It came back to me in the kitchen, we where both sat at the table and my mother was fiddling with pots and pans by the sink. I don't remember what we where talking about but I do remember the suddenness of remembering being seven with you in my room. I had never tried to picture what people meant when they said your life flashes before your eyes when you're dying. I felt like I was dying, a part me came clawing out of its hiding place and ripped me anew. My life didn't flash before my eyes but you did. One minute you where safe and funny, a blink later you were dangerous and slimy. I wanted you off my skin, but you had been clinging to me for 6 years and I didn't know where to begin. One thing I knew for sure is I had remembered. And you thought I hadn't.
I try to write something, anything, but the words are only clear when I feel them press against my heart and mind. They become muffled when hands reach for them, they loose their shape.
I saw @two-bees-poetry lady macbeth/macbeth poem ๐ทand became inspired to try this format called (an okayish first attempt but a fun challenge) contrepulate poetry.
The icecream man is driving down my street with the song playing loud and I'm Feeling intense nostalgia, for the childhood I still cling to. I feel it melting away, it's cool softness turning watery, slipping between my fingers.
I love your writing and I just read your "Dead above" snippet/excerpt and I'm so intrigued and interesting in your plans for it as a whole, is this a snippet of a book your writing or another project.
Thank you! Dead above is the title of the book I'm writing and the post was a snippet from it, I intend to finish the first draft and be on the second by the end of this year and hopefully (fingers crossed) publish it. I have very limited knowledge about how to get published, but at the moment I'm just excited about the writing process. Thankyou for taking an interest, it's very motivating ๐
If your business is healthcare and you end up with more people dead than alive, because you purposely turned them away so you could take in more profits, then you have completely failed on a human level. Not to mention your entire business is in complete contradiction with its supposed purpose. You say you're in the buissnes of healing but all we see is death and greed.
Andrew Piankovski - Red scarf (detail)
Excerpt from my WIP Dead above.
In about ten minutes I'm going to receive a phone call and I probably shouldn't be making a post, because I always start freaking out just before (so rn). but I'm doing this to trick my brain into being semi productive, basically I'm getting the ball rolling and hoping I can cling to whatever motion is left for the phone call.
I usually sit in literal silence for hours before any call so that I can store up social energy and mentally prepare myself, but sometimes I instead start getting more anxious the closer it comes to the call time, and when that happens I just don't pick it up. It feels like there's a wild animal waiting on the other end but also one looking over my shoulder ready to get me if I don't pick up.
So I'm going to just make this random rambling post and hope I stay out of my amygdala. Gosh I hate this lol, I've been through way scarier things but waiting on phone calls always feel like falling down an elevator shaft.
I know I don't say it enough and we joke about depression and how loneliness is eating up our lives, but it will be okay. I promise you it will.