Hello! I'm your friendly neighborhood RibeyeMoshpit.

I've been on Prose for about 6 months, now, and I've had a marvelous time getting to learn everyone's writing styles, reading your stories, and being inspired by every one of you. Thank you!

But I have a conundrum that I've been thinking about for awhile now. I started out this anonymous profile as a way to kill time while I was slowly dying of boredom at work. But what has happened is something I never intended nor thought would happen...

You guys actually like to read my stuff.

My weird rantings about government, learning to properly use cuss words, unicorns eating little girls, and stories about people surviving in the real world...

You guys really do like my stuff! I'm above and beyond flattered, and I want to thank every one of you all for reposting, commenting, liking, and basically creating this community of followers.

Here's my issue. I have enough followers now, that I really want to start creating better quality content than something I sped-typed during a 10 minute break. I want to develop my writing style more, and I want to start taking a stand on issues and encouraging productive discussions.

But I can't do that if you don't know who I am.

I used anonymity to give myself free reign and write about any topic without feeling like my real life was attached, but I can't create quality content that inspires others if there is no face to a name.

Hello! My name is Jenni!

I'm from Midwest America, and I'm almost 30 years old.

I married my soul mate last October, and we live in our beautiful house with two black cats. Black cats are my favorite.

I'm a recovered general anxiety/OCD patient, and I've done it all through diet, exercise, and cognitive behavorial therapy.

I'm a Pharmacy Technician.

My favorite color is Purple.

And I'm a carnivore.

No joke. I really am. I eat beef, and that's it.

So, hopefully, you all aren't disappointed to hear I'm just a normal human being like everyone else, and not some meta-being made of steaks, but I feel like if I'm going to write about what matters, then I shouldn't be afraid to have my name attached to it.

Hope you all have an awesome week!

In my wildest fantasies,

you believe I’m worth it

so you meet me at the airport

and drive us home

to our house.

We’re us now.

We sleep in the same bed.

We’re as good as it gets.

We fight about politics

and disagree about science.

I try to convince you

psychology is real—

something about mice

and radial arm mazes,

the memorization and mapping.

I say your name.

I moan your name.

I write love poems

that make you frown.

You make me cry

in both the good and the bad ways.

You take me out to a hibachi dinner.

You make me try lobster, frog legs,

all the things I’ve never tasted.

I love you for the little and big things.

You kneel and ask me to marry you.

I admit I don’t wear jewelry,

but I will for you.

We’re real. We’re real. We’re real.

Hope. Hope is a “different” word. Hope means wanting something to happen. It also means trust. I like both of the, but if I had to choose, I’d choose the second one. I’ve had moments where I felt like I really didn’t belong anywhere. In other words, I felt worthless. In those moments, those close to me noticed something was wrong. They asked me multiple times whether I was okay. “I’m fine!” Is all I said while faking a smile. They weren’t dumb enough to be tricked by that.

I was at my lowest. I had pushed all my friends away. My family didn’t know how to deal with this, so they didn’t do anything. I felt like the only hope, the only light, in my life had disappeared. It left me, leaving me behind in an empty dark void all by myself. I lost my ability to trust anyone that day.

A few days later, one of my “friends” asked me a question. “Are you okay?” As usual I replied with a smile. He saw right through me. He gripped my shoulders. “Don’t lie. Tell me the truth. What’s wrong?” Hearing those words, my emotions took over me. I started crying. He smiled. When I finally got control over myself, he asked. “Do you trust me?”

I told him what was happening to me, and he was kind enough to listen all the way through. After I finished, he said something I’ll never forget. I don’t think I can forget it. “You don’t need to solve everything on your own. You need to trust people, rely on people. You’ll witness betrayal, you’ll witness heart break, but all I know you’re going to be just fine. You wanna know why? Because you’re you! I’ve seen things. I know you can do it. I know it! And, I’ll be with you every step of the way. When things get rough, I’ll always have your back.” After months of wandering in the darkness alone, I had finally found a light. This light was far brighter than anything before. This light filled the darkness, revealing a beautiful world. All I had to do to find it. Trust.

Buildings under construction have signs

reading DO NOT OPEN

and I want these for my body.

Google how do I protect myself.

I can’t blame anyone else.

They weren’t there.

It was just me in my new jeans

and a black button-up half undone

and I should’ve known in the park

and I should’ve known on the bench,

and I should’ve known in his bed.

I don’t even know if I tried my best,

just that he didn’t listen.

I could’ve screamed.

I could’ve kicked him off of me,

but I didn’t. I let it happen

and happen and happen.

It satisfied him.

I remember my yellow bralette

and baby powder, saying

let’s keep my pants on,

let’s not do that,

let’s not, let’s not,

his tongue, his finger,

the doing and the leaving.

When he Facebook-friended me

four months later, I accepted,

but I still don’t forgive myself.

His life now: he has a girlfriend.

He buys her roses,

and she tags him in silly pictures,

and they seem happy.

I have a boyfriend.

I seem happy, too,

except now I worry about my body,

what I’ll let it do to me.

the world falls apart

beneath your grip

dust

between

your fingers

“I may wake up ugly, but I can fix that with a bit of makeup. You wake up beautiful, but as soon as you open your mouth, the ugly comes out.”

This is just a reminder that no matter how gorgeous you think you are, if you treat people unkindly, you’ve got an ugly heart. Your lovely exterior will crumble if you’re rude to others.