So I have the base idea for a book and I'd love feedback on it, but this isn't my post so anyone that sees this can TOTALLY build off if it, and hopefully this goes somewhere!! Again, VERY ROUGH CONCEPT.

The story centers around a teacher in a fairly rural town who has the privilege of teaching a blind student. She's increadibly sharp and seems to love artistic things, (she's super fond of doing little clay pieces in art class, and she just molds them by feel, but being blind has a lot of limitations artistically. The teacher is an artist herself, but works as a teacher so that she has cash flow in case her art doesn't provide enough money to live off of. So the teacher goes to a gallery over a weekend or something in a large city, and there's an artist who does paintings that have braille in them. Boom. Idea. She decides that she'll paint something to give to this girl's family, and that she'll incorporate braille into it so that her student can enjoy it with the rest of the family (who can all see).

Yeah, I love the concept, and I understand that this isn't quite the prompt, but I was hoping maybe someone could expand this and make it their own. Good luck to anyone who tries!

Is it just me, or did you cheat on me to my face? I could see the disinterest, I could see the disdain. I could see that you were texting her, acting so alive, and turn to me, and be so dead. I could see that she was not just a girl a world away. You didn't have to ask her all of those questions because "she's foreign so you have to talk like that." (Oh, you xenophobe, you). She didn't have to follow up asking your age with "oh, then we will both be legal adults when you come here. Will you visit me?"

Is it just me, or did you move on too fast? This big dramatic scene, this pleasedontleavemeiloveyou, this crying-breaking-earsplitting-apology-meant-to-split-my-head-and-leave-my-skull-so-broken-you-can-get-into-my-head. For what? You had four girls to flirt with the very next week.

Maybe it is just me, but I think it's kinda funny that posting me wasn't your thing, but posting all five of your playthings is. You can't worry about deleting me when you have a swarm of others around you. Make sure you get STD tests done before you move on to your next girl-of-the-week. Stop trying to act tough. I can't olige your stupid requests if they're followed up with "Sorry, I actually have a girlfriend, so you shouldn't be talking to me. " Fine. Stop texting me first.

Is it just me, or were you really that shitty? You couldn't accept my bisexuality but lesbian porn was just SO HOT. You couldn't accept me citing the CDC on gun control stats (ugh, what a neolib). You couldn't accept me not liking your use of AAVE because you made racist jokes behind closed doors.

"Nah, you on some goofy ass type beat."

"Ong you best be jokin. I ain't playin witchu an yo dumb ass, ho"

"who u think u are, talkin like tha to me an shi"

It may just be me, but I think you're a d*ck. Sorry I wasn't willing to be one wih you.

When I first met you, I had a boyfriend. I didn't like him, and he didn't like him. You knew this. You helped me. You gave me someone to trust and love and even though I had a boyfriend, I only had a "boyfriend."So he and I broke up. You let it be known. You wanted me. Little did I know, I might have wanted you too. So you helped me more. You became my all-time favorite person. You were always available, you were so nice and so sweet and I just kept finding things to love about you. Your hair, your lips, your voice, dimples, how you stood and sat and walked and you were just so perfect. We kissed, we liked it.

We dated. You liked kissing a lot. You wanted to kiss me while slipping your hand around my back, under my shirt, down my back to below my hips and then you demanded me. You wanted all of me. It took a while, but I gave in. I loved you. I might not have been ready, but I was willing to get a little uncomfortable for you.

You saw my body. You liked it. A lot. Late at night, you asked me, if you could see me. Not my face, no. The rest of me. Unclothed. I wasn't really sure I liked that idea. I loved you. I gave in. I was willing to get a little uncomfortable for you.

Requests to see me became weekly turned nightly turned every 4 hours. I'm sleepy, I have to shower, I have work to do. But I loved you. I gave in. I was willing to get a little uncomfortable for you.

I loved you, but nothing tires me out more than chores. Photos were chores. But you loved me too, and that was a first. I wanted someone to love me. I didn't want to mess up my first real relationship. So I said I loved you. I was willing to get a little more uncomfortable for you.

You wanted videos. I said no. You wanted to watch me shower. I said no. You asked what was so different about this? I'd send you photos. I loved you. But I said no. If I really loved you, you told me, I'd send them.

Well, I did love you. How could I not? I loved you. I gave in. I wasn't so willing to get any more uncomfortable.

"I don't like your friends" he said.

"I don't like yours either."

"I made a list. Don't hang out with these ones."

"Well, here's a list for you then. Don't hang out with this one."

"Ok."

He hung out with that one. That one did pot. My friends were just annoying.

"Babe, share your location with me."

"Put my thumbprint in your phone."

"Send me something real quick."

Breaking me down. fine. fine. fine.

Final Straw. Him, his best friend, and me.

Best friend: "Hey did you hear what happened to (x)'s mom?"

Me: "No? What's wrong?"

Bf:"Oh she fucking died."

Me: "excuse me, what?"

Bf: "oh yeah, she like, killed herself."

Boyfriend: "I mean, imagine having (x) as a kid. I'd kill myself too."

World shattered. Frantic typing and phone convos and I know she's in class right now but I'm frantic and I'm panicking. He puts his arm around me. Through gasping tears I write "Is it true?"

"Yes."

Sob. "I'm so sorry."

"The funeral is next week. I'd love it if you'd come. And if you do, wear an oversized hoodie. She loved them."

"Of course. If you'd like me to come I absolutely wi-"

He leans over and looks at the screen. "Honey. She's on the list."

"Okay? I don't see why that would be an issue."

"So you can't hang out with her."

My breathing has been ragged but I was about to go hysterical. His friend, silent witness to the conversation, walks off.

"This is not to hang out with her. You're forgetting that I didn't just know her for 10 years. I knew her parents too."

"You aren't going."

"Oh I'm fucking going. Her mother just DIED. I Am Not Using This As An Excuse To Hang Out With Her."

"If you go to that funeral, there will be consequences."

-ll. Send. Boohoo.

I go. He checks my phone. Finds my old drafts, reads through every single one. I cower. He looks angry. He could kill me, so I keep my mouth shut.

He needs a break. From me. After 14 months, he has no clue as to whether or not he actually loves me. Cool. I stopped loving him months ago. I end it, right after Christmas. He's been in a different time zone, ghosting me. He tells me he was going through customs when he saw it. He cried the whole flight home. Boohoo.

He accuses me of cheating. Emotional abuse. Sexual abuse. On no basis. Cool. I can deal with that. He demands his things back. I oblige. He burns everything I ever gave him. Stings a bit, holidays ran $50 or more, but I can deal with that. He calls me. All the time. I need you. I miss you. I miss you. FWB? Call me now. He ruins holiday parties. Blows up my phone. If I block him, he makes a new instagram account or a new phone number to use. Whatever, It's fine. I can deal with that. Starts to tell our mutual friends. They didn't believe him. I can deal with that.

January 3rd. 2nd period. He walks out of class. I watch him leave. He gives a mutual friend updates on his location. Some grass, some road. Third period. Railroad tracks, clearly abandoned.

I know that track. I've been there with him. The realization hits me harder than a train. That track is suspended over a river. He is going to jump. And die.

"Call me" he texts. I step out of class. He's already crying. "Do you love me baby?" he says. "You wouldn't do this to me if you loved me." I don't like the petnames, but I'll let it slide. I can't allow a misstep over something so stupid.

"No." as gently as I can, as softly as I can. "I did."

"Call me names. I like them." he says. "Let me off of this bridge."

He won't get off unless I say he has a chance. I hate this so so so so so so so so so much, but I cannot let him die. Through gritted teeth, I tell him he does. I whisper sweet nothings into the reciever, promises I can't keep. Anything to save him. Third period ends.

"Honey, I'm going to get some help so I can stay here and help you okay? So we can make sure you're safe." I say. "Please be here when I get there." Click. Flinging myself into the room, blubbering about how someone is in danger and we need to get the police involved stat to make sure he's okay. She calls the office. She needs the nurse to come to her classroom to help a 'visibly distressed student' who 'thinks someone might be in danger.' The nurse brings me to her office. There's a police officer. There's the principal. I call back. He's still on the bridge.

"Hey there hon, are you safe?"

"Who's there with you?" I tell him. "Tell them to go away. They can't. They won't. The police officer scribbled something down. The principal looks at me with sad eyes. The nurse is looking him up in the school database. He doesn't know he's on speaker.

"I'm not going to tell you when I'm going to jump. Wanna know why?"

"Why, baby?"

"Because I want you to hear me die." I'm so angry. Just hang up the freaking phone. He won't do it anyways. No, if he does its completely, totally, entirely my fault. What does it matter? I don't really want to lug that around with me forever so no. The nurse covers her mouth with her hand. The officer shakes his head. He radios the mobile crisis units. The principal buries his head in his hands. I take him off of speaker phone.

"Hey, now, things won't come to that. What can I do to keep you safe? Can you go home for me? Take the rest of the day off?" He can't. I coax and plead and beg and he stands at the foot of the bridge. Now seems like a good time. Maybe I don't have to deal with this anymore.

"So, honey? The police have sent out a squad car to pick you up, okay?" Panic.

"NO! Why would you do that? What's wrong with you?" Ugh. Shuddup. trying to help you. His phone battery is at 2%. I need to act fast.

"No, no. They aren't going to arrest you. Honey, here's what they're going to do." I sit and explain to him how they'd come pick him up, the best thing he could do is be polite and nice to them, don't be smart. They'll put you in the squad car but they absolutely won't handcuff you unless you resist. So once they find you, it's over. Surrender. Please. He says okay. His phone hangs up. Everyone in the room gives me tense smiles and words of encouragement as the phone sinks into my lap, my head going with it. Fuck. I cry. Angry, sad, relieved tears.They take my statement. I go home. I'm excused from all classes. Happy Friday, right? I sleep. I sleep. I sleep. I cry. Sleep. Cry some more. Monday, I'm greeted by concerned faces. I just need hugs. I get one. Fuck this. Fuck him. I hate this. Why me. Why did it have to be me. Why do I have to deal with the fallout of him not loving me anyways? He texts me.

"I got out of the hospital. They diagnosed me with depression."

"I'm sorry."

"So everything I ever did bad to you was because of depression."

"I'm sorry"

"Will you give me another chance? Because of the depression?"

"I'm sorry."

"You lied to me"

"I'm sorry."

"Say something other that just apologizing. I hate it when you do that."

"Goodbye. I hope we have the pleasure of never interacting with each other ever again."

Gotta fix the boredom. Gotta fix the boredom. Gotta fix the freaking boredom.

So, I could eat? I'd tear the fridge apart, who knows how old this is? Hey, a week expired isn't that bad, right? I'd have the company of food, the company of the packaging and the crumbs on the plate. No, no that isn't it...what else what else what else

Sex? Nah. I can't leave the house. Wouldn't be able to meet up with anyone. I'm afraid of feeling dirty afterwards. After all, women aren't suppose to like random sex, right? I'd be a slut, like I'm not one already.

Nap? Again? Christ, how lazy can I be?

I've showered already. I have no one to talk to. I have nothing.

No. No no. I have Prose. Yes, Prose. I can go on there and write something totally meaningless. Something that no one will read. Enter a contest or three that I won't win. (As if I could under any other circumstance). That's it. Yeah. I'll do that.

Let's do that. Login, password autofill. I'm in. Let's write something random. Shout into the abyss and see who's got the guts to respond. Those are fighting words. Cook up a nobody post. Yeah. Typingtypingtyping...wait...backspacebackspace...perfect. Did I fix the boredom yet? Skim it. No errors please, we don't want to look stupid. Okay, cool. Nod. Thumbs up at the computer. Publish. Think it's working maybe. I'm not so bored. Okay, but like, focus. Publish.Wait no..yes..no..ohmygodjustdoityouwimp...fine, just shut up. Publish.

They are ever so tentative at first. They wonder if it's really safe to come out. They walk whisper quiet in the streets, huddled, nervous. Nature and her children creep around them. Skiddish animals retreat from roaming about city streets.

There are the loud ones, the non-believers. They litter the cities with noise. Shout, whoop, revel in their victories.

"I told you so" resonates from the rooftops as they dance a fool's dance. They embolden hesitant hearts. The scared ones come out. Masks are donned, lost, and shoved into closets of cleaning supplies.

The animals shrink back. Life leaps from canals and springs out of streams and all flock to the confinement -no- the safety of the forests, the rivers within them. City blocks aren't safe anymore. It is an impossible task, to reclaim what once was yours in the face of something so powerful. Nature calls them back to her, holds them tight. It's okay, loves. We tried.

The news outlets warn against reckless behavior. Paris sees more moonlight kisses then ever before. More parties, more concerts, more movies. Packs of people huddled too close for comfort, breeding grounds for disease. They are long past caring.

Doctors warn us. "Do not forget the danger of illness." Too late. We have already forgotten.

Admissions offices will collectively sob if they get one more essay about how the coronavirus changed a high school life. Life carries on. Nobody changes. We continue to live, destroy, and die.

Mother Nature sobs. What can she do to teach them to stop destroying her? Her body? Their temple?

She sighs. Nothing. I'm sorry, darlings. I may not be able to protect you for much longer.

Made up shit will never tear us down

Liking something does not mean

It is coded in your DNA to be one with it

"Binary's Bitch" is confusion not an identity

A phrase not an expression of character

We call that questioning here

And starfluid is so out of this universe that

Thinking it's an identity must mean that your brain is in

Outer

Fucking

Space

When edgy outcasts think they have a home here is

When it stretches too far we do not

Make things up here

We do not endanger people here

We do not make homes for creeps praying on our little girls

Our little boys, our prides and our joys

So long ago we fought for these rights and these flags and this love

And this home

And you have burned our foundation, our very being

With your starselves, with your plantselves, with your voidselves

And now you will watch as we bury our children, our siblings, our best friends

Don't you dare lay flowers at their graves, your fake apologies

Don't you dare when you know you invited people to think

That we're fake and trendy and made up, invalid

We don't make things up here

We'll patch the holes you made, rebuild the foundations you burned, and pray you leave Us be

Why do they

Insinuate that

She is better

Her fits are

Ever worse

She torments

And abuses

Never stops

Dancing with hate

The devil, that thing

He never stops those

Old taunts in her ear

Under the guise of a

Gross, cruel mind

He drags her close

Then tells her: he'll

Stay to haunt her forever

What form will he take in her body?