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My head is dizzy, foggy
My world is dark I guess I’m just out of it I’m retracing my steps To the exact same mark But don’t worry I’m just out of it The world is spinning And I’m not winning And I can’t see a point To me being here The world’s filled with pain And I regard it with disdain What’s the fucking point? But don’t worry I’m alright I’ll be ok I’m just out of it
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#10: Write a story from within a bubble. https://blog.prepscholar.com/creative-writing-prompts
Venessa was in a bubble, every single day. It might not seem like it to the crowds of people who surrounded her, who passed her. They floated on by without giving her a second glance, without wondering what was wrong. To them, she was ordinary. Normal. But to her, she was trapped within. She wasn’t quite sure when it’d happened. Yes, she was used to being separate from the people around her. She’d always been a quiet, keep-to-yourself type of person. Some people called her shy. Some called her anti-social. To her, she just was. But when had she become this far removed from society? When had she first looked around the office and realized that she didn’t know any of the names of the people around her? Faces, sure. But not names, not stories. Never stories. When had she first sat alone in her apartment and realized that she had not a single person in the city she could spend a Friday night out on the town with? When had she realized it had been two years since her last real date? When had she realized how utterly alone she was? She didn’t know. The hardest part was that she didn’t really mind. Somewhere inside of herself, she knew that this was no way to live her life. Humans were social creatures. They demanded attention, connection. Living alone, grappling to talk with anyone of her own species about any personal matters shouldn’t have brought a bad taste to her mouth. She knew it was unhealthy. She knew she was miserable. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to care. What was the pain of being alone compared to the pain of being burned? It wasn’t even a comparison. Once you let people into your bubble, into your life, what was there to do? They left. They left and popped the bubble around you and there was nothing for you to do but to cry and pick up the pieces that they’d left strewn in their wake. That life wasn’t for her. No, much better to stay in her bubble. Much safer to deal with the dull monotony of being alone than to deal with the crushing blow of being abandoned. Because what was there to do but for people you let in to leave? It wasn’t their fault. It was the way of life. Venessa had never known anything different. Better to never let anyone close to her heart in the first place. It was easier this way. Safer. Or so she told herself. Goodmorning, goodnight
As the day passes by I wish that you’ll hold me tight And wipe the tears that I cry Off of my face My dear Our days are getting darker I fear Everyday without you Has brought my spirits down Just stay here by my side Til the next life comes around “If I had to choose between lonely and you, I would always choose loneliness. Anything is better than with you.” @meg.the.author on Instagram https://www.instagram.com/p/CZJ2EP7LRgJ/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
“If I had to choose between lonely and you, I would always choose loneliness. Anything is better than with you.” I could tell with one look at Casey’s face that the words stung. I had a brief moment of feeling sorry, regretting my decision, before my resolve steeled. The words hurt. Good. I wanted them too. “Don’t say that…” she said softly, her eyes never leaving the ground. “I don’t even know what I did.” “You ruined my life,” I said. “How? Please just tell me how.” Her eyes were watering as they were still frustratingly trained on her converse. I didn’t answer her. She’d be able to see through any lie I said in a second. “Ivy?” “You need to go.” I stood up taller, trying to keep my voice steady. “I will. After you tell me what I did wrong.” Casey’s voice didn’t waver, even as her tears dripped to the ground. It was almost frustrating how much resolve she had. “It will be better this way.” “For who?” “For both of us.” For the first time since the start of the conversation, her pale green eyes met mine. They were filled with so much pain, so much heartache. My chest clenched. “You’re lying to yourself if you think that.” “Hah.” “I’m not joking Ivy.” Casey crossed her arms as her tears still flowed down her face. “This may be better for you, but there’s no way in hell this’ll be better for me.” I scowled. Of course this wouldn’t be better for me. I wasn’t doing this for me. She needed to get away. She needed to be safe and sound and happy, and the best place for that would be far, far away from me. “You don’t know that.” “I know myself better than you do.” I sighed, leaning against the wall to my back. “Is this going to be better for you?” “Case—” “No.” She strode over to me, reaching her hands out. She hesitated for the briefest of moments before grabbing mine, as if she was afraid I was going to tug them away from her. She held my hands tight in hers. “I’ll go. I’ll grit my teeth and walk away and you won’t hear another sound out of me. But only if you can tell me—honestly tell me—that you’ll be better off without me.” I looked up at her, and all too quickly, tears were falling from my own eyes. “It doesn’t matter.” “Yes it does.” “Case—” “We can figure anything else out,” Casey said, looking at me so earnestly that it broke my heart. “Please Ivy. Just answer me.” I looked at her. I almost keeled over at her eyes, those green eyes that I’d gazed into as I’d gone through so much. Always, throughout all of it, she’d been by my side. My cheerleader, my soldier, my biggest fan. Didn’t she deserve a chance to live her own life?” “Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’ll be better off without you. I’m not happy here. Now go.” A million expressions passed over her face. Shock, heartbreak, and then the steely mask that I had grown so accustomed to never seeing again. “You’ve got it.” She turned on her heel. It took every morsel of self control that I had to not call out to her. To not run to her, grab her, beg for forgiveness. Tell her that I needed her, that I didn’t mean any of it. She didn’t need me. She didn’t need my baggage. She could go and be happy now. That’s what made all of this worth it. That’s what kept my feet planted to the ground. Instead, I just watched her walk away. Ripped up shreds of paper
Scribbled, pencil scrawls And a world full of words All her own Hands go in pockets And fists go in walls Outside of your tortured soul There’s a world That’s all your own There’s a shining summer day And a beautiful winter night Full of warm smiles Full of love There’s friends you’ll have forever And pain you’ll never heal from And inside of it all There’s a world All your own Write a story titled ‘The Locked Door.’ https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/general/write-a-story-titled-the-locked-door/
“I hate you.” The words echoed around my mind. The pain of it all scratched at my soul, running back and forth like a blade across metal. Scratching the surface, but not cutting deep into my heart. Well, not yet. “You never loved me.” I didn’t know whether I wanted to laugh or cry or scream. I did some combination of the three, tugging at my hair in agony as tears flowed down my face. There were too many thoughts to handle. The idea that I never loved her was laughable. I put everything into her. I gave up the rest of my life to worship her, to be at her beck and call. I didn’t just love her, I exalted her. And the knowledge that she didn’t believe me was so saddening and frustrating that I didn’t know what to do with myself. My brain couldn’t seem to decide what to do with itself. I bounced back and forth from sobbing in heartbreak to almost tearing down my shabby little apartment in rage. “Don’t ever come back here.” I had broken at that. A pleading, sobbing mess. I promised her things that I couldn’t even promise myself, hoping that she might listen. Might forgive me. I didn’t know what there was to be forgiven for. She hadn’t even cared. She’d been more upset that I was going to get her floor dirty with my tears and snot. I might as well have been some kind of pesky rodent, squeaking my pleas with someone who could never understand me. What did one do with someone who refused to listen? I didn’t know. How could you ever get any headway when the person you loved wouldn’t hear you? You couldn’t talk it out. Communication was thrown out the window. Any begging or pleading was worthless. So what? She may well have been a locked door for all I knew. She used to let me in. For a long while, since I didn’t have the key, she’d take pity on me. She’d unlock the door and let me hurry through into the warmth of her embrace. It was nice. The problem with not having your own key was that whenever the occupant wanted, she could lock you out. And no matter how much pleading or begging or sniveling or crying you tried, it wouldn’t work. The door didn’t open a crack. No light flooded through the gap between the floorboards or the keyhole. It was like no one had ever lived there at all. |
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