I’m not sure you like me

and that’s ok

fine line between love & hate, see?

It’s rarely any other way.

You admire my spirit

how it sparks and shines

then secretly covet,

jealousy blinds.

Your eyes skim my body

i know what you need

chemistry is never our problem,

in truth it's your greed.

Driven by ego

you punish & shame

hurling insults like snowballs,

seeking others to blame.

There once was a time

i’d make efforts to conceal

my soul in its prime,

so you could feel.

Those days have passed

i’ve uncovered the truth

free at last,

toll paid with my youth.

I’m not sure you like me

and that’s ok

truth is,

I never needed you anyway.

the ashtray was looking more

and more

like a sick hedgehog

and her yellowed fingers

added one more quill to it

she sat back in her chair

work wasn't in the best of stages lately and

her office looked like a junkie's

trailer. You could

scrape the nicotine

off the walls. In fact, she

would get nicotine under her nails if she

just scratched her skin

anywhere

But otherwise she was

a beauty

and that was a problem. Beautiful

women have the worst

luck in marriages

The husband left and the two girls went

with him

They were sick and tired of her

habit to consume more cigarette smoke than

oxygen

And drinking was also a problem

though not nearly

as big

The worst drinking has ever done to her

was to make her lose

the driving license which she never

bothered to take back

The real problem was,

as always,

a lack of money. If the damn phone didn't

ring soon

she would have to kill someone

for a pack of cigarettes

Assuming she could still

kill

someone with her body rotting from the

inside. She was fine with

breast cancer

but now lung cancer joined too

and it was by far nastier

Still

that was all right

It doesn't take a healthy body to pull

a trigger

And speaking of triggers

She opened a drawer in her desk

took out the gun

studied it

Not loaded

She browsed through the drawer

Only one bullet left. One single bullet.

These things cost money

too

Damn it

But it's like they said back in

the mercenary camp

The last bullet is always preserved to be

used on the self

She loaded the bullet into the

gun

A life lived well is one

lived without regrets and without

ever asking for mercy

or feeling sorry for yourself

At 39

she had that. There was nothing

else to be taken

away from it

She put the gun to her

temple

Smiled

"Except for a final smoke."

***

https://bogdandragos.com/2021/02/08/the-female-assassin/

What if, in a parallel universe, the sky was red and plants glowed when you brushed by them?

What if, in a parallel universe, humans never crawled from the mud and muck to take that first gasp of air?

What if, in a parallel universe, caves were never warmed by the masters of fire?

What if, in a parallel universe, Gods were never forged as a means of control?

What if, in a parallel universe, metal birds never soared through the air?

What if, in a parallel universe, the atom never split?

What if, in a parallel universe, my heart never broke?

What if,

in a parallel universe,

we were all energy in the same neural matrix?

*TRIGGER WARNING*

It’s ironic how overrated depression is.

That the people who actually have it are tossed aside.

Like useless garbage.

We just want freedom.

We just want happiness.

We just want acceptance.

.

.

.

I have been unable to stop it.

The feelings just pour in

I think I’m drowning.

I’m tired of pretending

I can’t smile anymore.

The mask isn’t working

I can’t feel anymore.

Every day, I cry myself to sleep.

Dreading the pain of tomorrow.

It’s funny, how people say

“your life is perfect,

learn to appreciate”

But they’ve only skimmed

the water’s surface.

My family is unaware.

Of the pain I’m going through.

They think I’m happy

Because smiling is what I always do.

You think it’s a phase?

No, it’s not.

It’s like having poison

injected into your heart.

You helpessly wait

for the poison to spread

Until you can’t take it

And die on your own bed.

I’d rather be stabbed

and have it all end fast.

It’s better than the sadness

Slowly eating away my heart.

I’m ugly, I’m fat

I’m weird and weak

I’m useless, I’m bad

I’m sensitive and meek.

The self- hate has grown.

I don’t like myself anymore...

.

.

.

The blade speaks now.

I start cutting myself.

The feeling of hate

Expressed through every slash.

Blood trickles.

The wounds burn.

But I don’t care anymore.

After all, don’t I deserve it?

Alone, and invisible

I will live the last of my life

until the sadness envelops me

and I decide to die...

Depression is a prison where you are both the suffering prisoner and the cruel jailer.

- Dorothy Rowe

I started this quite some time ago, and I love what I have so far, but I have no idea what to do with it! Any suggestions would be welcome!

Lynnea watched in solemn silence as Lady Kessa was brought before the Oracle. Ever since the day the prophesy had been made, Lynnea had served Kessa as her handmaiden. They had both been so young, neither of them yet begun their seventh year.

She remembered the day of the prophesy well, despite her youth. The stone walls of the palace had seemed so dark and cold after spending the first few years of her life in the warm sun on her family’s farm. Her mother had brought her to the palace along with every other young girl in the kingdom old enough to walk, yet too young to bleed.

Even now, Lynnea struggled to understand how the Oracle could have known that the Heroine would be among these. The Prophesy of the Heroine had been made decades ago by another Oracle, and before that moment, no one knew who the Heroine would be.

Yet this Oracle had insisted upon, demanded, the girls of the kingdom be brought before her. So, she stood among them. Some of the girls were less than two years old, some trying desperately to pull away from the group to get close to their mothers, many crying. The oldest among them were nearly women, some fifteen or sixteen – looking solemn as they appeared before the Oracle.

Lynnea had met Kessa in the crowd of girls. Apart from their age, the two had very little in common. Lynnea had been a pale, fair-haired, chubby little girl, shy and uncertain. Kessa was dark-haired, tan, and slender, and she held her head high with confidence, despite their situation.

But Kessa had been kind to Lynnea, taking her hand and assuring her that, no matter the outcome, the Oracle knew what was best.

Together, they had followed the girls before them. Lynnea struggled to see over the heads of the younger girls in front of her, but as far as she could tell, the Oracle had yet to discern who among them was to be the Heroine.

The wait was distressing, but Lynnea had depended on Kessa’s steadfast confidence as she impatiently waited to approach the Oracle. She hadn’t even been certain whether to hope that the Oracle would choose her or not. She certainly didn’t feel special. Would she even want to be chosen?

When finally they had reached the front of the group, Lynnea had not yet released Kessa’s hand, so the two girls approached together. The sight of the Oracle was such that she had never seen before. The Oracle was a woman, not much older than her mother. She was slender, and Lynnea thought she was very beautiful. Her hair was white, and her eyes so dark they were almost black. She wore robes the color of rubies so voluminous they covered the chair she sat in and puddled around her feet on the floor.

Lynnea and Kessa bowed low as they approached. Lynnea expected the Oracle to wave her hand in dismissal as she had to the girls before them, but the Oracle did not. Instead, she stood and stepped down from the dais to stand before them. “Your names?” she asked.

“Kessa, daughter of Shedri and Mayani,” the girl beside her answered confidently.

Lynnea tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. Finally, she managed to croak out her name. She hoped the Oracle didn’t require her parentage as well. She wasn’t sure she could make herself speak so many words.

For a few very long moments, the Oracle stared at them, her black eyes shining. Then, she knelt in front of them so her eyes were level with theirs. Quietly, she spoke a few words in a language Lynnea didn’t recognize. Finally, she reached out her hands, one to each girl. Kessa immediately placed the hand that wasn’t holding Lynnea’s into the Oracle’s hand. After a brief hesitation, Lynnea did the same with her free hand. They stood like that, the Oracle’s gaze moving from Kessa to Lynnea and back again.

Then, without warning, the Oracle dropped Lynnea’s hand and stood, still holding Kessa’s hand. Kessa followed the Oracle up to the dais. Lynnea still held Kessa’s hand. Unsure of what to do, she followed Kessa. The Oracle turned to the crowd that had come to watch the Prophesy unfold and finally spoke.

“The Heroine – Kessa, daughter of Shedri and Mayani! May she save us all!”

“May she save us all!” the crowd repeated as they cheered.

That fateful day, the Oracle had seen more than Kessa’s destiny. She revealed that Lynnea’s destiny was linked to Kessa’s. Not even the Oracle knew how, but it was agreed that the girls would not be parted.

That very day, Kessa and Lynnea were given quarters in the palace. Due to her new status as the Heroine, Kessa was treated like a princess; she was given the finest clothing, the first helping at mealtimes. She received gifts of dolls, jewelry, horses, and weapons. Wherever they went, people bowed before her.

Lynnea, as Kessa’s handmaiden, was given chores that would ease Kessa’s burden. Yet, despite her seemingly low position, those in the palace knew of her connection to the Heroine, so she still held the respect even of those in high stations.

Lynnea went everywhere with Kessa. They played together, ate together, slept together, studied, and trained together. Lynnea wondered at all she had never considered before – arithmetic and literature, history and philosophy. Lynnea especially excelled in the sciences. She learned quickly the names of plants and trees and was fascinated by the way they could be combined to make poisons or cures.

Kessa, on the other hand, had a preference for weapons training. She could handle swords and spears that were made for people far bigger than she, and her accuracy with a bow and throwing daggers rivaled the most skilled weapons masters.

Together, they trained and together they grew. They became closer than sisters with a loyalty to one another that none could sever.

Now, Lynnea stepped aside to allow Kessa to take her place in front of the dais. They were both dressed in the clothing that had been made for them in preparation for this day. Their outfits were nearly identical – loose fitting black trousers to allow easy movement, sturdy leather boots, and black belted tunics. They had even braided their hair to match. The only difference was Kessa’s rich red cape that flowed behind her as she walked. Lynnea’s outfit was completed with a much more humble earth-green cape.

Kessa’s cape formed a semi-circle behind her as she knelt before the Oracle. The large room was silent as the Oracle stood and approached her. “Kessa, daughter of Shedri and Mayani, rise and claim your destiny as the true-”

The Oracle’s voice faltered. Lynnea didn’t dare breathe as she awaited the prophet’s next words. Why did she hesitate? Certainly, there could be no doubt. This was the moment Kessa had lived for, trained for. Why did the Oracle not send her off as was planned?

The Oracle did not speak. Instead, she held out her hands to Kessa. Kessa lifted her head. From her place, Lynnea could not see her dear friend’s face, but she knew from the tension in her body that Kessa was just as confused and anxious as she.

But, with her never-failing confidence, Kessa reached out and took the Oracle’s hands, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. She stared into the face of the Oracle as the wise woman’s eyes stared back at her.

The Oracle’s next words were so quiet they were hardly more than a whisper, but from her position next to Kessa, Lynnea heard them. “You are not the Heroine.” Lynnea couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her, nor the hand that covered her mouth. The Oracle looked as shocked at the revelation as Lynnea felt. “This is not the Heroine!” she said aloud.

The room was suddenly abuzz with sound as the crowd turned to each other. Lynnea closed the distance between her and Kessa and took her hand. Kessa looked back at her, her brown eyes wide with fear and confusion. Lynnea felt the same, but she refused to allow Kessa to see. Instead, she squeezed her friend’s hand, hoping the action would reassure her. No matter what happened in the moments to follow, they would get through this as they had every other moment since they were six years old – together.

“You!” Lynnea’s head snapped up at the Oracle’s shouted word. The Oracle, who had stepped away from the dais now approached them once more, but her attention was no longer on Kessa, but on Lynnea. Lynnea was too stunned to do anything but stare, yet she eventually remembered her manners and bowed before the Oracle.

“Look at me, girl!” the Oracle snapped. Lynnea did as she was bid, despite the discomfort of the dozens of eyes now watching her. “You were there that day, were you not? The day I named this girl the Heroine?”

“I was,” Lynnea answered shakily. “I was one of the girls brought before you.”

“But you were with this one, yes?”

Lynnea glanced back at Kessa. “Yes, Lady. We came before you together.”

The Oracle looked from her to Kessa and back again. “Your destinies are closely intertwined. This I saw, even then. But your linked fates confused me. Even now, I am uncertain of what I see.

“This, I know. Kessa is not the Heroine. You are.”

if i had a garden

i wouldn't give you the flowers

i'd give you the seeds

so you could have a garden too

It feels wrong to think that he's better off without her, but those are her words, not mine. I may have thought them, but she said them out loud.

Sad truth is, he will always have belonged to her first, but maybe he is better off without her. I'm the one picking up the pieces, doing the work, cleaning up the messes. I'm the one who considers what's best for him, makes his well-being a priority.

And yet, I encourage that relationship. Is that the right thing to do? If all she's going to do is hurt him repeatedly, shouldn't I try to protect him? But maybe that's not my call to make, because she did have him first.

So I choose to be the one who stays, because she's not coming back. I make the healthiest home I can for my him, because his first mother doesn't have one to give him.

#challenge #adoption #family #addiction #mentalhealth #redemption #reclamation

... that was when my world ended.

How does one sum up a human life

in words to forever remember

the one person you love, loved most.

Memories?

Conjuring up in the mind

those moments that brought laughter,

smiles;

even those precious seconds

when unadulterated passion consumed

the very essence of love’s power?

When that special life, that one ember,

constantly burning inside your soul,

never to turn cold;

but it always grabs you when unaware,

forcing another memory to come alive.

It takes more than mere words;

it takes all those years lived

to bring about feelings held,

privately shared,

when perhaps one day,

the one you love, loved most,

will hear those words again.

just know

that when i leave you

i won't be coming back

because if i do,

i might end up staying.

and if i stay,

i might end up living.

and if i live,

i might end up crying.

just know that i won't be coming back

because if i do,

it will be the end of my lonliness

and i'm not ready to feel comfort

just yet.

(There was just too much inside me

when I wrote this to even consider writing a poem.

I get like this at times.)

This land is opportunity.

This country, founded on priciples, and from the sweat and blood of others who forged out a nation our ancestors would hope we would be proud of.

In the beginning the people who filled this land came from all walks of life, bringing their talent, their hopes and dreams to build upon and create something we could all be proud of—freedom.

There were wars and blood shed to have that freedom. And from that, we opened up a new world of ideals with the promise of success.

We became a country to be both respected and feared by the enemies that encroached our

sensibilities.

Are we a perect nation? Far from it. Those before us made mistakes, just as mistakes are made today. Some of those mistakes, I would like to believe if we had a second chance at, we would change. The taking away lands and subjugating the American Indian. That in itself is a part of our history that leaves a huge black mark in our gaining freedom and equality. In order to do so, certain officials such as Andrew Jackson, saw fit to take away their equality and freedom and nearly decimate thousands of American Natives.

But over the course of decades, right or wrong, we became better in many respects. We built, created, devised houses, tall skyscrapers, better businesses, multiplied in the millions and found ways to live the american dream.

From Boston to LA, from Seattle to Miami and all points north, east, south and west, we found a way to live without being subjected to a Hitler, Mussolini, Tōjō Hideki, or a Stalin.

We still had our share of problems with people and that is to be expected as no two people are the same, but we are improving. There was a time when a Black person was a slave. Today, many hold high public offices. Others still, have their own business.

Yes, we are getting better, but more has yet to be accomplished. After all, for a country as powerful as ours, if you go by the history of other countries, we are still, in many ways, in our infancy.

But as a nation, we have endured tragedies caused by Mother Nature and come back from it. We suffered a Great Depression and came back from that. We have been hit with diseses no man or woman should ever have to endure, but we bounced back to become a little better and a lot stronger.

And now, we are faced with with a new disease, one that has no mercy on human lives, be it on our ground or around the world. But given time, patience, and understanding, we too, can defeat this purging mess.

America, the land of the free for all people near and far. America, the home of the brave, where no man or woman is afraid to face the challenges before them,

We are not perfect and perhaps never will be, but I for one see no better place to hang my hat, call it a day and be proud of where I live.

And the nice part about all this? The way you dress or speak, the language you use regardless of nationality,color, or heritage, doesn't matter. Why? Because you are in America, the only true diverse nation in the world.

And where I come from—that’s special.