With Fickle Heart
. . . on bad days, I tolerate the World;
and on good days, It tolerates me too.
❤
Do you know how long I have waited for someone to comment on one of my posts and give me a heart? And then I realized, What if there's someone out there that has that same dream? I could be that person that gives them a heart. So now I comment with hearts.
A Mortal Who’s Worth It
I thought I hated all mortals.
In my mind they were foolish creatures, weak and insufferable, ugly and greedy, pathetic and argumentative. They were the race bearing a lack of compliance or acceptance for another's differences. Seeing the perspective or point of view of a person standing right next to them was a feat that didn't come naturally and a skill far too few achieved. They were quick to wage war, but quicker to beg for their meaningless lives.
Such a being was too easy to kill, off a whim.
I stopped trying to understand mortals long ago, so on a particular fateful day, I didn't question why an infant mortal was left alone in a dessert, unmonitored and defenseless.
Its wailings were faint. Had I not been a superior race, I would have flown past it without realizing. Instead, off a whim, I descended towards it.
I remember the wailing stopped once my claw reached the sand. I had never seen one that small before. My wings curled around the creature - call it predatorial instinct. The sunlight cast a faint red shadow through the thin of my wings and against their curious little eyes. Its sun-tanned hand stretched away from its strangled blanket and out for me; an empty threat, one I chose to ignore.
I stooped down to its level and the first thing it decided to do was reach for my hair, pulling the red strands in tiny bunches - as I said before, 'quick to wage war'. I grabbed it by the wrist and raised it up high for a better display. It fainted. On another whim I decided to bring it back with me.
I thought once it reached my den I'd want it dead, but it intrigued me with its strange behaviour, making bubbly scream-noises anytime it saw something new. I fed it and decided to keep it around. It wasn't like the other mortals I hated so much, this one possessed a certain light.
It gave me a thought.
What if I nurtured this light? What if I grew it in a way that could improve the species from within?
So I did. I became a sort of mother, or father perhaps - I forgot what they were called.
It grew fairly quickly and I grew used to its company. So used to it, in fact, that I found myself preoccupied with needless thoughts on its safety, its wellbeing, and its joy. I grew fond of its expressions when I took it for a fly. I had to protect its bubble-scream, and its gentle, constant, expression changes. I had to give it more reasons to latch its arms around me. I had to make sure it wouldn't wail and leak through the eyes in that awful way mortals do.
I paid attention to the many, many things that could cause its demise. Since falling over could cause it to bleed, anything greater than that was a threat. I hated this. This threat-list made me do crazy things; like take the full force of an attack to shield it from harms way, or dive into a lake that naturally seeps my energy to prevent it from drowning, or beg...
beg other mortals to spare its targetted, fleeting life in exchange for the immortality of mine.
To the Sucker
To the "sucker" with failed memories
shut in one locket
To the "crazy" with brain damage
Stuffed in their pocket
To the "crybaby" with depression
trapped under their skin
To the "fatty" with obesity
inherited from their kin
To the "snob" with a broken family
not spoken of, never said
To the "slut" with trust issues
stuck in their head
To the "weirdo" with anxious tendencies
replayed everyday
To the "pretty girl" with an illness
concerning how much they weigh
To the "goody-goody" with OCD
hidden in their blood
To the "loner" with social anxiety
invisible to everyone
To the "troublemaker" with deficiencies
stored in their brain
To the "quiet" with loud voices
causing them pain
To the "attention-seeker" with homophobes
waiting for them at home
To everyone who is "different."
I love you more than you know.
Love Bug
Looking like a crazy person I smiled. Wide grinned and toothy. All day I smiled because I was going to be a big sister. I was seven years old at the time and had always wanted a sibling. Praying and singing to God for a little sister to play with. Growing up was a little bit lonely at times, having to move around constantly. But I knew - I knew having a sister to play pretend with would make everything better.
Inevitably, my silly smiling had creeped out a few children in my grade. Obliviously, I continued grinning, for my wish had finally come true. I spend the day dreaming of what sisterhood would be like; April Fools pranks, trick-or-treating at Halloween, driving our mom crazy. Heck, I even gave her a early nickname - Lovebug. After school, I ran to the car excited for the hospital. We drove for seemingly hours but when we got there -
it was all worth the wait. My little sister, wrapped in a pink blanket, and bald. Happiness and pride welled in my heart as I held her, determined to be the best big sister.
However, she would be living with my mom. While I live with my grandparents. Don't get me wrong at the time I was ecstatic. But I felt a my heart drop when I thought of how "sisterhood" wouldn't be. I was angry and heartbroken. I still am. The universes' cruel joke was to give me a sister whom I can't have. Carrying on bitterly I found myself unhappy, depressed even. Until I began accepting that I would miss growing up with her. I would miss growing up with my little brother. Although we visited occasionally, visits were tainted with anger and grief. Lovebug mourned the loss of an older sister while I grieved the loss of a little sister and brother. How could I not be melancholic when I barely know my sister whom I wanted all this time? Never truely connecting I distanced myself. My heart got lost in the sea of solitude. Paddling back to the shores deemed impossible with the ongoing family feud. Hope was still in the horizon.
I might miss a childhood but I will have my siblings in adulthood. Where we can share all of our silly stories and fun memories; and our sorrows and dreams. Waiting for the day is painful but worthwhile. When we three are independent we can rebuild the broken pieces of our familial and sibling bonds.
#nonfiction
#story
Pessimistic Optimist
I like to think of myself as an optimist. But, judging from my own experience, it's impossible to write something that everyone will love.
“Angel”
A little boy all alone,
living on the street.
His parents left him with no home,
and nothing for him to eat.
He steals food so he can survive.
He lives in a cardboard box so he can stay alive.
But when he’s by himself,
and no one is around,
he would pray to God,
his tears falling to the ground:
”God send me an angel,
please send me a friend.
Someone who loves me,
even in the end.
I am so lonely Lord,
I need a hand.
I know you’re listening,
you understand.
Please send me an angel God,
Amen.”
The boy grows older,
he is now a teen.
Joining some older kids,
acting all tough and mean.
Once in his group with his so called “friends”.
That when something goes wrong, they abandon him.
He goes into an alley,
curls up into a ball.
Then he prays to God,
hoping he’ll hear his call:
”God send me an angel,
please send me a friend.
Someone who loves me,
even in the end.
I am so lonely Lord,
I need a hand.
I know you’re listening,
you understand.
Please send me an angel God,
Amen.”
More years go by,
the teen is now a man.
Living on the streets,
as best as he can.
He’s still stealing so he can survive.
But he’s happy to still be alive.
When his past sins
eat at his mind.
He yells out to God,
who has always been so kind:
“God send me an angel,
please send me a friend.
Someone who loves me,
even in the end.
I am so lonely Lord,
I need a hand.
I know you’re listening,
you understand.
Please send me an angel God,
Amen.”
Many years pass,
the man turns old.
Calling the alleyway
his only home.
But this time around on that cobbled street,
was his friend “Angel” a dog with three feet.
She stands by his side,
and loves to run.
With tears in his eyes,
a prayer the man begun:
”You gave me an angel God,
you gave me a friend.
Someone who loves me,
even til the end.
I’m not alone now Lord,
you gave me a hand.
Thank you for listening,
I understand.
Thanks for the angel God.
Amen.”
A few weeks later,
the old man dies,
with a last request,
his “Angel” by his side.
Down in the grave they went, the man and his friend.
Both still loved, even in the end.
Neither are alone,
by the grace of God’s hand.
Both of them listening
to those like them.
Each one a prayer to God,
ending in “Amen”.
#xjenvanx, #jenvan91, #death, #god, #angel, #poem, #poetry, #long, #sad
Never Stop Talking
We're passionate
About the causes
But we often disagree
We stand on opposing lines
Holding our signs
We do it because we are free
Let's be apart
On the issues
If that we really must
But never stop talking
While away we're walking
In each other we should trust
We can try to
Find an answer
If only that we will
In joy and sorrow
We look for tomorrow
And not let silence kill
Anniversary
Rosemary and Regan were busy in the kitchen, making breakfast for their parents. A tower of pancakes drenched in syrup, a side of crispy bacon strips, two big bowls of sugary of cereal, and two glasses of orange juice. All of these meals cluttered together on a single, wooden tray.
Every year they did it for their mother and father. Now they get to do it for their mother and stepfather, who were both still asleep upstairs in their bedroom. It was almost time to get the drop on them. But first, they needed one more family member to help them out. Rosemary opened the top of Slinky's fish tank and hauled the large python out. Slinky hung around the necks of both girls like they were sharing a feathered boa together.
Up the stairs they snuck quietly. Their bedroom was around the corner at the top of the stair flight. The door was closed, meaning that their parents, Carmen Gravely and Lu Lightbringer, were still asleep. It was the perfect opportunity for the Gravely sisters to make their entrance. They counted down together.
3... 2... 1...
The door popped wide open. "Surprise!" Both Rosemary and Regan screamed happily. Once they entered, it turned to an anniversary that no one in the house would forget.
"ROSIE!" Carmen screamed, covering herself with her bedsheets.
"REGAN!" Lu screamed next, jumping away from his wife's backside.
The sisters instantly turned their screams of joy to screams of terror. Immediately they both turned and ran away, still screaming to the top of their lungs. The breakfast tray slipped out of their hands, crashing on the bedroom floor. Chunks of poreclin plates and bowls, along with glass shattered into thousands of pieces. Slinky, who had previous been resting on the girls' shoulders, laid on top of a messing floor. He blinked his emotionless eyes and flickered his forked tongue at the naked pair.
Carmen's face blushed bright red. "They saw, didn't they?" she asked sheepishly.
Her husband nodded. "Yup," Lu answered. "I think it's a safe bet they did." he then noticed the food on their floor. A fork and piece of pancake levitated into the air and flew into his hand. Lu noticed his wife's disgusted look. "What? I'm not going to let it all go to waste." Lu bit into the soggy pancake and smiled. "Happy Anniversary, sweetie." he said sheepishly.
And Happy Anniversary to Sins of the Father!
#sinsofthefather #fiction #fantasy #comedy #horror #devil #anniversary
Breathe
My cheek stung like fire.
To make thing worse, the world around me was spinning into a blob of colors. I felt as if there was a weight in my stomach pressing me down. My heart was pounding so quickly, but it felt like it was beating in long, hard thumps. Whatever breath was left in me was coming out in short wheezes. I wanted to cry. I wanted to curl up in a ball and forget about everything around me. People began staring at me after what had happened, and I realized I needed to get somewhere safe. The problem was, I felt like I was going to fall over. Without giving it much thought, I run out the doors of the school. I know no one will chase after me or try to help me. It's always been this way.
I slump down on the short concrete wall surrounding the large tree in the front of the school. My hands begin shaking like a leaf. Here we go, I think to myself. The tears start flowing out of my eyes as quickly as my hands started shaking. My breathing was fitful and I made no effort to try to control it. I scolded myself for crying like a baby, and I told myself I should be stronger than this.
The cool wind flowed through my dark hair and chilled the tears upon my cheeks. I know it sounds stupid, but I just felt lost.
When I started thinking about what I did to end up like this, I swear I felt someone touch my back. I couldn't see anything because of my hair covering my eyes, but I felt someone gently rubbing my back. I tried to control my breathing and stop crying so I could see who it was touching me, but it was nearly impossible. It was as if I was drowning in a dark, dark pool.
I frantically wiped away my tears as I felt this person's gentle hand on my back. I was just about to look up when something stopped me. The wind ceased its gentle breeze and my cheek was no longer stinging. Then a soft, gentle voice whispered in my ear, "Breathe."
I lifted my head and realized no one was there. I searched all around me but found no trace of anyone ever coming near me. The wind began blowing again. All I did was take a deep breath in, and let every single worry and pain I was feeling leave my body when I breathed back out.
And that was all.