All is fair in love and war.

To have that friendship,

grow into more—

kindles what is easiest.

Setting fire to any chance—

of it normal,

when moving forward.

In most matters it’s evident,

to loose a friend—

you can gain them back.

On your way,

to be on the mend.

Until you face an act of love.

Romantic feelings will take that bond.

A bond for hostage—

unwavering ransoms that are never met.

Leaving time then leaving love,

to make our beds.

What’s far more tragic,

is a friendship over love.

There is one thing that is far more worse.

It’s to fall for a friend.

Then to thiwwi

if it all goes wrong—

you’ll have your friendship.

Once that love is gone.

It’s unfortunate to know that who I am and who I was, is lost and gone.

To not having found myself, it really is quite profound.

All I know is my heart of stone, convinced there's nothing more.

It lead me to the damning truth;

you can’t loose something that isn't real, that does not exist.

Who I thought I was, I myself;

I’m just a facade.

I’m nothing more than a patchwork of everyone I’ve ever loved.

All of whom, I wished so hard to not become.

The heat came rushing to my face, as Jamie’s words registered in my mind. Each word causing my internal temperature to raise more and more with anger.

“Forgiveness isn’t for them… it’s for you”, she said.

I very carefully tried my hardest to choose my words, “Bullshit”, I replied.

That was the best response I could give. Less is more, especially when you want to verbally wreak havoc on another.

“Alora! You hold grudges and it does nothing but create hate in your heart. You need god or something, people like you Are selfish. Sometimes you don’t realize how cold you act. The sad part is everyone notices, except you. Let it go already… and move on. Clearly he needs help in more ways than one. Nobody denies that”, she preached on. Bc

I threw my hands in the air and for a moment, I was speechless. How dare she say anything about forgiving him. I walked to the opposite side of the kitchen in an attempt to put space between us.

This was it.

I slammed my hand onto the table, “You have no idea the hell that I went through. The mental and physical torture. The emotional and even sexual abuse that Camron put me through. For years I dealt with it because I was scared shitless, as he threatened me and the closest people to me!”

As Jamie was about to speak, I couldn’t help but cut her off.

“He destroyed me. I will never be the same. Do you understand that?”

“We get it”, she claimed.

She continued on and all I could do was stand there silently, as her voice began to sound like static in the background. I felt my hands starting to sweat, as I ran them through my hair with the urge to pull it all out. She doesn’t get it. Nobody gets it.

“Are you even listening to me? You keep me in the worst spot knowing that I’m friends with Camron’s sister”, she yelled at me.

I grabbed my coat, took my keys and proceeded out the door, silently. By the time I sat down in my car, my phone was vibrating in my pocket.

Driving home, the tears cascaded down my face like Niagara Falls.

“I’m allowed to feel this way”, I yelled within my car.

I pulled the car into my driveway and took the keys out of the ignition. I have no energy to go into the house.

I grabbed the phone and began texting Jamie. Despite not owing anyone an explanation, Im going to the explain this for the last time.

“Your friendship with Cassie, has nothing to do with the way I feel about her brother... and if it does, then you and Cassie have a bizarre friendship. My forgiveness has nothing to do with anybody except myself. I was abused in every way you could imagine. It took years for me to get away from Cameron. I was controlled; the way I spoke, what I could and couldn’t do, from the clothes I wore to being, secluded and used. I had no control over anything for years. Now I have control over everything and I control if and when I want to forgive somebody and if I don’t want to, that doesn’t mean I’m bitter. That means I have the power to make my own fucking decisions, and not forgiving somebody who doesn’t deserve it, makes me feel better than you can ever imagine.”

As quick as I sent that text message, I threw my phone onto the passenger seat. I sat there in silence, not getting out of my car.

However, it’s feels so damn good to know that I will never be that impressionable again.

“Forgiveness… they can shove that”, I whispered to myself while getting out of my car with a smile.

I threw my phone onto my nightstand, at least I thought I did, as I heard it vibrating against the floor.

“Oh my god! Jared leave me alone”, I said out loud.

It’s been two weeks since our breakup and he won’t stop. He isolated me from the world in every way he could think of. Then decided to leave me when he finally siphoned all that he could from me. The aftermath is this version of myself, so mentally, emotionally and physically drained.

Despite this breakup being long overdue, it’s still a shock to my system.

I throw the blanket off of me and slowly edge off the bed. Although my first instinct was to kick my phone out of my way, I bent down and grabbed it.

Ready to rip my hair out, I sat down at my desk and pulled my laptop out of the drawer. I couldn’t help but to feel hate for him, as I opened it and realize the screen was cracked.

“You’re broken just like me”, I said to my laptop.

I held the button in, hoping I could use this. Surprisingly, I could make this work. I looked at my reflection in the screen of the laptop. All of the cracks embedded into the glass, eerily stretched along the area of my face’s reflection. Tears slowly fell from my eyes as if they were leaky faucets, unable to stop.

Without thinking I grabbed my phone and blocked Jared’s number and anyone’s number associated with him.

Unrelenting grief, tightly has a hold on me.

For those late nights and the words that never came to be.

I hit my peak. I hit my peak of trauma and pain. My mind was overflowing with thought, while my sadness was eating away at my heart. I was fighting the feelings of grief, an overwhelming amount of grief. Between 2018 and 2020 I lost my father-in-law to suicide, my best friend since childhood to addiction, my grandmother to sickness and my mother to an accidental overdose. Death is hard enough to deal with, but when you consider the reason behind a person’s death, certain reasons will make grief even more complicated.

I was suffering to say the least. I had so much that I needed to put into words, but talking wasn’t enough. To me, talking was the equivalent to water dripping from a faucet. I was able to get some thoughts and words out little by little. However, it wasn’t enough! I needed those thoughts and words to come out the way water uncontrollably flows over a waterfall. I was drowning because I couldn’t express myself. I needed a little direction, in order to get those words from my mind, to my fingers. My thoughts were everywhere and I didn’t know where to start.

Accidentally I came across Prose on Google.com. I was struggling to sleep and I needed an outlet. I needed a prompt. I needed to write. Searching the internet for prompts at three o’ clock in the morning, I came across this website and eagerly I created an account. I read through such beautiful pieces, some filled with pain that I understood. Quickly I knew that I was in the right place.

After reading such honest works amongst fictional posts, I felt safe and I opened up the floodgates. I scanned the challenges and found one I loved. For the first time in a long time, these writers who have no idea who I am nor do I know who they are, made me feel like I belonged.

It’s almost one year since I found this community, my community. Within this time on Prose, my mind isn’t drowning and I began to reconstruct my heart. Writing truly heals and having the opportunity to be apart of prose, has saved me in more ways than one. A community of writers is a special group of people. To truly understand the depth of healing we provide for each other, is something I wish everyone could experience. Prose is a place where my sadness wanders and my anxiety disappears, allowing love and peace to take the forefront. It’s a place where my mind and my heart pulls my authentic self out, so proudly.

Sitting against your headstone, I leaned reaching to brush the leaves aside.

“I Couldn't share the pain, and watch you suffer! I hate heroin”, I cried out.

Memories began flooding my mind and our favorite songs like “Far Behind”, creating an eerie sadness in my heart.

“Some would say your life was sad but you lived it anyway. I never thought you’d touch it after seeing your parents flying oh so high. They left you far behind too”, I whispered.

All I see is you, in ICU hooked to machines on the cold day when you lost control.

I wrote this in response to an Emerald Author Challenge that I saw. Although I wasn’t able to post it because I am not an Emerald Author yet, I like the prompt.

Prompt- supPOSEDLY (November play #2) Destroy something you feel is supposed about you… and tell me why you think it is, in the process.

Created by Plexiglassfruit, in the Emerald Lounge.

I sat there trying my best to listen, as my mother-in-law continued to chastise me. I should have never answered this god damn phone.

“Kennley, this isn’t the first time you acted like this. Rachel is offended and there’s no reason for it”, she yelled.

Squeezing the phone, I did my best to not come undone, “She’s always offended. Don’t you think it’s weird that Rachel will wait until the room is empty, to start conversations with me? She’s always done this!”

“You have no compassion. The way you act towards her is cold and I’m not the only one who notices it. You act the same way towards me, too. You’re very cold and to many people”, my mother-in-law claimed.

“Well, maybe these people who think this, should reflect on the moment that led up to my cold behavior. Beside you, Rachel and your friends who you talk to… who else thinks this? When you’re controlling the narrative & complaining to your friends and siblings, that kind of sets a tone. This is so stupid! Rachel started complaining about her bills and money like usual. She then throws her passive aggressive comments into the conversation. Then if I disagree or I become offended, she plays the tone deaf card and says she didn’t mean it negativity and if it came off that way, she’s so sorry… come on. This is why I do not talk to her and when I do, I keep it very surface-level”, I tried my best to explain myself in a calm manner.

“…And what did she say so negatively? She’s overwhelmed with finances and you tell her to just start paying her bills and she wouldn’t be dealing with this. That was insensitive and cold like I said.”

I let out a laugh of aggravation. I tossed my phone onto my dresser and continued straightening up. I can slowly feel my anger building and building, as if it’s going to shoot up through my head like a geyser. Once she finished her sentence, I ran across my bedroom so fast, you would think I was competing in a track meet.

“I did not say that! Rachel slipped a comment in, saying not everyone is lucky to have their parents and Poppy paying their bills like me. She mentioned that all my money is okay mone, which is why my kids have so much. She’s wrong and I have no idea why she keeps saying that! That’s offensive I pay my bills. All I did was telol Rachel to cut out unnecessary expenses like going out to eat or buying lottery tickets. That $40.00-$80.00 here and that $5.00 that is spent every day on lottery tickets, adds up and that money could be put towards her bills”, I explained.

“Oh come on Kennley! It’s your demeanor that’s offensive. She’s venting and you’re being rude”, my mother-in-law spewed.

I’m done. This right here is exactly why I am short and disconnected… or cold as they all have claimed for years, now. Nothing I say is right. When nothing you say or do is right and constantly used as ammunition, this is what causes my emotionless responses. If I don’t react after the constant picking and harassment, then I’m cold. If I do react, I’m unhinged. It’s not fair to me!

“Dawn, if you cannot see why I act the way I do around you and Rachel, then you both need to open your eyes. How I carry myself around you people, is for my own sanity. The way you describe me is so far from the truth and your son, my friends and everyone else who knows me, will tell you that. I am so emotional, but I‘ve learned to water myself down because If I didn’t, I’d be sick to my stomach everyday because of you people“, I yelled!

The phone went silent. Dawn didn’t say a word, so I continued.

“You‘ve told people that I’m scorned by my childhood, in the past. All because I didn’t agree. I’ve been talked about by you, ever since I stuck up for your son when you caused problems between he and his brother. I am not the cold one. It‘s you who is cold. It’s a problem to you all, since I am who I am. You’re embarrassed that I don’t act the way you want me to act, as you frolic within your wealthy friend group. I’m over this shit! I didn’t do anything wrong. This is why I try not to speak with you guys!”

Before I can finish my statement, I heard nothing. I looked at my phone and of course, my mother-in-law hung up. I launched my phone onto my bed and watched it bounce onto the floor.

“This seriously cannot be my real life”, I said to myself.

I continued my cleaning, so I can calm my nerves. This is the last time I allow either of them to do this to me. I’m nothing they say I am.

Backed against crimson colored brick.

These city lights are blinding, not aiding while I falter—

Ironically, so inebriated;

I’m probably just as lit.

Staggering through these vile streets.

Focused on the fact I’m a modern day nomad—

failing to fit in with the fakes, freaks, addicts, morally guided or the elites.

Too many nights I find myself here.

Damning the has-beens, what ifs, stockings torn, heels in hands—

alone, wishing to trade the urge for risk, in for fears.