"what's in a name? that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." ~W.S

history is a complicated being; she's the definition of cruelty to those who are losers, but a sense of victory to her writers. and perhaps i have a bais, truly, my history was not ideal; nonetheless, it is what created me. yet, i am not a woman of her past, not a scultpture from it's shaving and breaking; no, i'm my own creation with mosiac eyes- the only way to view my past, that you'll ever find.

if the world asked me who i was currently, i'd say: i'm an old soul with only half her brain cells, reading an AP textbook and classic novel at the same time, with a shot of identity crisis mixed in with acute social anxiety, that’s scribbling short stories on her forearm, all while vomiting prose poetry about an unobtainable lover.

if a stranger asked me who i was currently, i'd say: enough for me to love, still figuring out the essence of my being. sorry, it's just, i've lived a quarter of my life, yet still have none of it figured out. truly? i want to be something worth remembering.

if my friend asked me who i was currently, i'd say: beach baby with sunrise anklets and an athlete who loves playing her game. (better short and sweet than exposing my true being, for, no one gains popularity easily.)

if my family asked me who i was currently, i'd say: i don't really know, who am i?

if my soulmate asked me who i was currently, i'd say: darling, i'm nothing and everything, it's bloody confusing.

as for you, well, i kept my name the secret treasure it was meant to be; hinted at without revealing my insane history; and told you my replies to everybody. and here i am unsure, if i'm worth more than the time fate gave me. i'm sure there's something that makes me me, and i think i've just touched the surface. perhaps my identity is the concept of a mystery.

For the most part, what I was is pretty much who I am now, but from the then to now, events, times in all of our lives does make changes, big or small.

Growing up, I had to learn how to overcome that nerdy shyness around people, that not so good thing with actual words spoken to ask that "special girl" to the Prom, and opt not to, fearing a laughable refusal, only to find out years later, she secretly wanted me to ask. It took thirty years to realize the mistake I made then, could have changed my life now.

Growing up, traveling, meeting a varied amount of interesting people ... all of this gave me fodder for writing. Bringing life to life, from life itself. Almost magical when you think about it. Learning how the other side lives, works, and plays gave me knowledge to forge myself into a being who and what I am today.

And that brings me to this: I do what I can, when I can, to help other's achieve success. It truly matters not to me whether my success will flourish. I figure if it does, then it will.

Here, on Prose, I may seem outspoken, outlandish, and maybe even a bit too much of myself. And maybe that's all true. But what I do is entertain. What I do is leave a small taste of knowledge behind. I'm not a hero, but I am a survivor.

As to all the other things that round out a life, I have loved and loved deeply. My past holds hate and anger, but I don't bring it to the front any longer. I have learned it does no good to dwell on what was, but rather focus on what is and make the best of it while I can.

I could use a plethora of metaphors to describe what is running around inside my head, but why? When I can just say, I do what I do because I know how. What I don't know, I research. Knowing a little is far better than knowing nothing at all. And knowing too much would make me sound like the Encyclopedia Britannica.

We ,live in uncertain times where the normal isn't so normal any longer, but should that change me? No. Change my daily habits? Somewhat. But my thoughts shall remain as always and that's a normal I can live with.

I cannot say what lies in wait for me, though it would be nice to have a clue. Then again, life being a mystery, it gives me plenty of time to think. To think about those I know and care for, wondering how their lives are unfolding and if they are doing well.

I feel like I am rambling but if you take anything from what I have laid out ... I am and can be a friend that won't turn my back on you. After all we can agree to disagree and still maintain a level of acceptance.

I have been loved. I have been despised. As with all things, there are two sides to a fence.

Where will this all end? One day, if you care too ... look in the obits. You might run across my name. A single paragraph will tell you all you really need to know.

I imagine myself like a spark.

That's what life is, right?

Something you ignite

with a hard rock and sharp flint

Something you channel

through circuits of resistance

Something you follow

when things get dark outside

Something that sputters

and eventually just dies out

I used to care about things like

image, personality, preferences, etc.

But this hunk of flesh and bone

is just this life's current model

The thing that makes me me

has very little to do with all that

And very much to do with my

Brightness

Humor

Flexibility

Persistence

Sincerity

Overbearingness

Energy

Love

Loyalty

Fascination

and those things that can't be captured

by a psych test or anthropology study

but only by ten minutes sitting down

and putting up with me over a drink

--------------------------------------------

Hmm, in hindsight, this would have made a much better pickup line than what I used...

What makes me, me? Well for starters I'm not like everyone else, I don’t “go with the flow” yes we are human and sometimes I do wing it. but I am my own person.

From early life, I had a ruff upcoming. Both of my parents did drugs while I was in the house. I had moved so much that by the time I reached age five I had moved fifteen different times. When I was about six I was taken out of the house because as I said my parents did drugs. My grandmother then adopted me, at first I hated it. When I was seven my mom lost her rights to see me for if she did the police would be called. Growing up I consistently had children and youth in my life, they didn’t leave until I was about eight or nine. About two years or so I started calling my grandmom “mom”. For the longest time I hated my bio mom cause for the longest time I thought that she chose drugs over me and I wasn’t too pleased also every one of my family members told me that she chose drugs over her own blood and flesh.

When I hit thirteen I wrote my bio mom a letter and surprisingly she wrote back. When she wrote back at that time it would have been two years that I was smoking and drinking. My mom didn’t like the fact at all that I was smoking but I did it anyway I was my way of dealing with stress and stuff. Between twelve and thirteen I was a huge cutter but I got help and for a while, I was hopping around person to person trying to get help.

For now, I’m just gonna leave it at that. Hope some people can relate to this, and I hope you liked this. Drop a comment and a like if you did.

Tanagura isn't a person, she is a city. One with vociferous creatures and ideas, all inhabiting her mind. Even her words are jumbled up crazyness. But she has a loving caring heart. She cries for her communities and when she can stop violence, she will do so. Even if her walls and enclosed borders are painted blood red. She is the person who you will call when you need a safe home. Her doors are open to just about anyone. She does however consider Pedophiles and others like them scum that can never come close to her light. She doesn't need you to tell her she's unique, she knows that. She wishes she could provide her people with so much more, sometimes forgetting herself. She would rather save as many lives as possible. Even if that means giving up an arm or two. However, inside she holds a young and defenseless boy. From her shell to earthly ground, she doesn't understand her soul. Only wishing to be a light to those who need one. I don't know who I'm meant to be yet, but I do know the time will come when my wings will have to sprout. But for now... writing here on prose is my happy little thing. Maybe in this life or the next I'll be able to give this world the push it needs. Hand in hand I know we can do this. I have huge dreams but just who will stand with me? I have fears and I do feel so small going against those who already have the power and money. But when I look upon them they wither and rot. I have what it takes, it all just depends that you find me. Cause I'll happily die any day. Life treated me in cruel ways growing up, even now I'm still growing but I feel so caged. I want to be 18 so badly. Those wailing cries won't stop and neither will I. This is who I'am, take a good look but remember in this life, I'am in control. As are you. I wish to become the voice and hands to change my generation. This is Tanagura and so many other explosive yet frigid things. All in one, all under control and only set loose behind closed doors, for now at least.

i am not down to give myself a hug

although reading through everyone's bios

i would be down to give everyone here one

writing is so pure, and it's our livelihood

but in the real world my personality is centered

around carefully hiding who i really am, lest i freak someone out

with my intangible thoughts

scattered like so many moving parts

my writing on here is a random

bleeding of thought and feeling;

a messy canvas of later regret

at what I have to say, a paintbrush gone astray

but in the real world i am careful to hide what's inside my mind

for there are voices that tell me things i

don't believe; in the hour of honesty and conviction

i am sadly not present, somewhere else entirely

Trauma and Alternative Rock

Flling word count, per usual, ah this kinda makes the peice lowkey AWKWARD.

The time and place you were born,

The home you adorn.

Words spoken at the right moment,

Loving with the passion of a poet.

We all have the same destination,

Regardless of sex, race or nation.

The details of your journey make you unique,

Not what you critique.

A Hero Is Someone Who

Is NOT Afraid To

Use Their ”God Power” God Gave Them.

Athena

09/11/2020

Well, there are an infinite number of universes, and the Me that i am is mundane by that standard. I am always a piece of shit, a hack, writing awful poetry, and laughable prose. I don’t even have the mental ability to bring myself to write something without a prompt. What a loser. What an ultra dimensional equivalent to a worm. The only difference between al us MEs is that we were cut off at different points from some main branch of a loser-ME and since then we have grown ourselves anew out of the trauma.

Now what sets me apart from non-MEs is a whole, vast expanse of failures, fakeries, and flatulence of my on creation. It is not that I don’t try to be a real human being, It’s just, that it just doesn’t work. Sooner or later , reality or a cursery examination of what i do, blows the cover.

Rejoice, my friends instead of puke, for it is better to look at the bright side; at least you are not a ME.