Somewhere,

between hellos and goodbyes,

your smile and my caution;

between the sheets and the floor,

your bruises and my bandaids;

between one drink and the next,

your roses and my grave;

between one day too many

and one breath not enough,

you learn to treasure the sunshine

that comes from the moon;

it is the only thing that will guide you

on nights like these.

Purple skin

painted orange,

an empty husk

dressed like a man;

the world spins,

off balance,

staggering drunkenly

through empty space

while I search for its edge.

Blank eyes

hidden by stitched lids,

hands folded

over a still chest;

the sun burns

brighter yet,

indifferent rays

warming a hollow

for the dead.

White roses

brown and wilted,

a thousands farewells

on deaf ears;

the stars grow tired

and the clocks

tick, tick, tick.

while I feel it in my bones:

someday I will live again.

And what if I want to be lonely,

Pirouetting beneath a cerulean sea

Sunlight kissing rose petal skin

As the birds weave a cage

Of ivy and flowers stems

For this run away heart?

And what if I want to be lonely,

To wake up in a bed all my own,

Rising with the moon

And breathing with the rythm of the tides;

Tracing ever-changing constellations

Across the wings of the night?

And what if I want to be lonely,

Dipping the world in melancholy

And hanging it out to dry?

The word drips from your lips like kudzu and venom

As though there are not

A million lovely ways to be lonely without you.

you learn to burn farewells like photographs

because closure cannot be found in words

whispered over forsaken ground to deaf bones;

and when the shadows creep into your what ifs,

you find the nights are easier

when you give your demons names--

they will be kinder to you

than all the words you never said.

it is only when the lid closes

to never be lifted again

and suddenly you can’t remember their face,

that you learn there is no such thing as goodbyes,

only hellos;

and every time it rains

you tie your shoes a little tighter

and walk a little faster

because someday the ground will claim you, too.

I.

In the stillness of the night

where whispers become promises

and the shades of you

burn like evening primrose and paper cranes

breathing in silvery moonlight

and exhaling shadows

we paint the world in tired blues

and shatter it like glass

mirrors and walls and blank canvases

empty pages and stolen heartbeats

all melting into the book

of you

II

We sleep in the sea

and drown in the sky

drink from the sun

and live off the stars

Will apollo cry for us

as he did for Icarus

or will the sea claim us in silence?

And in the light

of the early morning

a thousand tiny paper boats

fall from the edge of the earth

Back against the door, knees pulled up to my chest, all the words I could never say pile up around me. I bleach my skin with ink and tears and catch my soul in stained glass bottles, hiding them away in shoe boxes under my bed. Writing letters to God on the wall, my fingers stained black with charcoal and sin, I learn that time does not heal all wounds and memories are not easy to live with; and you, with your beautiful lies and promises of better days will drag me straight to hell.

you fed me honey-coated poison

(venom labeled LOVE)

trading kisses for bruises

and stealing Neverland

how did my youth taste

when you guzzled it like cheap whiskey

burning my innocence to the ground?

if you aren’t something

then you are nothing

you told me

and I was never

anything

to you

my eyes did not shine with galaxies

my voice didn’t move nations

and when I sang

the world did not fall silent

my bloodied hands incapable of weaving dreams

Not old enough to be so twisted

so i’m young?

kind of you to remember that now

whispering behind hands given

everything

casting sideways glances

like broken is contagious

sick

crazy

monster

they carved a thousand names

into my skin

i collected every curse

filling in the gaps of a stolen childhood

i am something

but why is it not enough?

Numbers, numbers

(always running numbers)

I outgrew cereal

before I outgrew stuffed animals and make-belief

92 days of summer

reading labels like they’re novels

Collecting 50¢ words

Maltodextrin

Galactose

Anhydrous dextrose

until my only friends

were over-sized t-shirts and empty plates

bleeding into lumpy sweaters

and first bites

that were always one too many

90 days of winter

scraping numbers into the ever-hungry trashcan

92 days of spring

opening and closing fridge doors and boxes

Rinse and repeat

like lettuce leaves

and carrot sticks

until i’m drowning in fabric and calories

1460 days

too big a number to swallow

what do you think hell is like?

i can tell you this--there are no flames because

hell tastes like chocolate chip cookies

and taco tuesdays

ice cream on hot afternoons

and home-cooked meals

it feels like never enough

and always too much

cold porcelain under trembling fingertips

and brittle hair sliding down a shower drain

It’s just food, you say

I wish that’s all it was

For almost five years, Prose has a been a safe haven for me where I could write whatever I wanted for people who actually cared to read whatever story I had to tell. What first drew me to this site was the fact that you didn’t have to pay, as I was quite young when I first joined. Not only that, but the lack of restrictions on what you could and couldn’t write gave me--and everyone else--freedom to pursue their craft in whatever way they wanted.

The supportiveness of the community here is astounding. From day one, others on this platform welcomed me, guided me, and looked out for me. When I wasn’t on the site as often, they would check in to make sure I was okay.

And in the past year or so, things have been changing. I understand the need to add a subscription to help keep this site going. That’s totally okay and I was very glad that it wasn’t forced on everybody like it is on other writing sites. However, particular users have used their membership to treat other users here as less-than or undeserving of the rights to post here. That is not, and never should be, acceptable. Nobody should ever be shamed or bullied or made to feel like they’re doing something wrong because they can’t afford even five dollars amonth for Prose Gold. It’s not their fault if they’re working hard to get through college or too young to have a job and can’t afford it.

I have kept my mouth shut on a lot of the issues I have noticed cropping up around here, simply because I don’t like causing issues or calling people out, but things are really getting out of hand. I’m not here to just rant as that won’t get us anywhere--I’m here to present the problems and then suggest solutions.

1. MASS TAGGING

The problem:

A lot of users have become upset due to the mass-tagging that has been going on around here. And I’ll agree, it’s a bit frustrating to have your notifications bogged down by users you don’t even know or follow.

The solution:

The easiest solution here is to just be respectful: don’t tag random people who don’t follow you, haven’t asked to be tagged in your work, or have asked you not to tag them. But obviously, people have continued to do it anyway. So the next step is to ask them politely to not tag you in the future and if they persist, just block them.

I think if Prose really wants to improve this site and go that extra step, a nice feature they could add would be something like the notification bell on Youtube. Put a button or something on the profile pages so if someone wants to be notified when a user they like posts something new, they can hit that. And boom, they get a notification every time a new post is made.

2. MULTIPLE ACCOUNTS

The problem:

This is a big problem, though not the biggest one (we’ll talk about that one later). I’m not sure how many of you have noticed the increase of fake accounts with no profile pic, no posts and no followers, usually only following Prose and the person who created these fake accounts. I myself, have found many users doing this, particularly in the challenges where the entries with the most likes win. A fellow Proser messaged Prose about this issue, but they never did anything about it. All of those fake accounts are still up, despite extremely damming evidence; the likes are still there, the challenges have been won by people who did not deserve to win. Such a big issue cannot continue to be brushed to the side.

The solution:

This is not that difficult of an issue to fix, which is why I’m a bit confused and upset as to why it hasn’t been dealt with. It’s this simple: you can’t follow, like, or comment on a post unless your email address has been verified. Almost no one is going to create 70 email addresses to win a challenge. Or maybe they will but at least further steps to prevent it will be made.

3. NEW AUTHORS

The problem:

This is not everyone. In fact, it’s just a very, very, very small number of people who are upset or annoyed by the recent influx of young authors from another writing site. As they are quite young, some feel that their posts are “dragging down the quality” and are not talented enough to be here. One user even went as far as to message other Prosers to berate them for liking a post by one of these younger authors because they felt that kids didn’t deserve to be there. Not only that, but this same user commented disparaging and rude remarks under their posts as well, then deleted them when called on it.

The solution:

First of all, if you think new writers are an issue, you’re part of this problem. We all started somewhere. There is no such thing as a perfect writer and it takes a lot of time and practice and bad drafts to hone your skill. If you don’t like a post or a story, just keep scrolling.

4. THE BULLYING

The Problem

This has, unfortunately, become an increasing problem. I have only noticed one user in particular partaking in this under the guide of “constructive criticism” and “feedback.” Nobody has a problem with actual, helpful feedback and pointing out issues and offering solutions in a polite manner. HOWEVER there is a big difference between that and commenting that you hate everything about someone’s post and listing everything you think that makes it terrible. Or commenting under someone’s post where they talk about a struggle in their daily life and saying you think it’s a made-up issue people like being the victim of. None of us are better than any of the other writers here and it’s disgusting to see someone acting like this. What makes me even angrier, however, is the fact the victims of this person feel the need to apologize as if it’s their fault that this person is upset. News flash: it’s not. And this is where we get to the part that probably will get me a lot of hate. For this very reason, I have kept my mouth shut for a long time and just let things slide but I can’t do that anymore, not when all of Prose is about to change because of one person who can’t stop complaining, causing problems, bullying, and then dipping without having to deal with any of the consequences of her actions.

I do not like naming names or calling people out, like I already said. Especially since this could result in ME getting kicked from this site or garner me hate. But after I and many other users have notified Prose of this person’s actions, with evidence, they continued to do nothing.

And I think here is where I should make it clear that this woman is the same person who messaged Prosers and berated them for supporting young writers, insulted and tore them, then complained that SHE was being bullied when she was called out on it and reported to Prose. She also called them terrible, awful kids, said they dragged down the quality of the site and had no right to be here and she hated when they entered her challenges. She has three accounts in total, all premium, and since she has stated she believes her subscription keeps Prose afloat, she feels like she has more say than the rest of us. Which should not be true, but it seems Prose is intent on keeping her happy. Even if that means allowing bullying to go in the mean time.

Many of you may know this user as Finder, who recently wrote a post complaining once again about how Prose has changed for the worse due to young writers. And then likened being called out for being extremely rude to them to “verbal gang rape” which crosses a line. Sexual assault is not a joke; it’s not funny, and it most certainly should not be thrown around like . It’s insulting to actual victims to have their experiences equated to being called on the carpet for bullying kids. Currently, she has deactived her account, claiming she won’t be back, at least right now.

However this is a pattern if behavior with her: say something rude, mean, or disparaging on a post, get backlash from it, delete said comments, deactive whichever account she used to make said comments, then come back when she thinks the dust has settled. Every time Prose is notified, they do nothing and she remains unpunished. And the cycle just repeats, with her actually reporting me and other users for bullying her by telling her her remarks were uncalled for.

As a veteran of Prose with five odd years under her belt and three different premium Prose accounts (though I must say I don’t know if all three are still activated as after the group project fiasco she was involved in, she deactivated/changed the name her joytotheworld account), she also seems to have a good relationship with the people running Prose.

I do not want to point fingers but the only solution for this issue is for Prose to actually take responsibility, stop giving preferential treatment, and stop doing things simply because Finder complains. In fact, the most recent changes that Prose is talking of implementing came after Finder made her post ripping on the newbie writers and saying their nannies needed to come pick them up.

I know some of you here are friends with Finder. I do not want hate sent her way, and I hope you will not send any unnecessary hate my way, either. At the end of the day, I want this to become a better place for everyone. But that’s not going to happen of we--and especially Prose--don’t do their part.