Daily Prompt|| Shine

She sat across from him, studying his face with mild curiosity. He was beginning to get uncomfortable, but he didn’t say anything. 

His eyes were a deep brown, the irises almost blending in with the pupils. His eyelashes were long and curled, the kind girls attempted to mimic with falsies. 

He opened his mouth to say something.

“Ah-” she warned him with a slight shake of her head. She wasn’t done looking at him, not ready to talk about the thing. 

He sighed. 

His mouth conveyed his anxiety. He was softly chewing on the right side of his full bottom lip. His forehead and nose were shining with sweat. 

“Okay,” she said, “go ahead.”

“I don’t think we should be together anymore,” he blurted.

She was quiet, looking into his eyes. They looked desperate. Her’s shined with tears waiting to fall, but she didn’t blink. 

“You’re right,” she said simply. This was the thing. This was what she’d been feeling for the past two weeks. The thing she’d been avoiding. That was it.

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Via Daily Prompt

Float

I am awoken by screams. Not horror movie, helpless girl piercing the silent night with her voice kind of screams (6’2″ 175lb Hector is hardly Sydney Prescott), but screams nonetheless.

“What?! What?!” I ask, freaking out about his freak out. 

He’s not lying next to me anymore, but is instead standing in the opposite corner of the room, terrified. 

“You were floating!” he whisper-yells.

“Oh shut up, I was not,” I say dismissively. 

“Babe you were floating–”

“Was not!”

“YOUR ENTIRE BODY WAS SUSPENDED IN THE AIR! WHAT DO YOU CALL THAT, ASH?!”

I’m quiet. I thought he was messing around, but he’s never yelled at me like that before. My eyes well up. 

His face falls. “Baby, I’m sorry, I don’t…” He looks like he wants to come comfort me, but he’s scared I might go full exorcist on him.

“Will you please just come back to bed?” I ask, scared. He’s reluctant, but after a few seconds he climbs in next to me. I burrow my head into his chest and he wraps me in his arms. 

“Just let gravity do it’s thing, babe, okay? No more defiance.” 

We lay down to cuddle. I feel safe in his arms, and after a minute or two of racing thoughts, I calm down. Hopefully anymore floating I do will be only in my dreams. 

Daily Prompt|| Tempted

“Ya know that feeling you get when you know–you KNOW– that you shouldn’t do something? That voice in your head that always seems to sound like your mother no matter how old you get? That feeling and that voice, they gang up on you to make sure you don’t order another shot, you don’t smile at that guy looking for trouble, you don’t do anything stupid, right? Well, I have a surprisingly strong talent for ignoring that feeling and that voice.”

He stops kissing my neck long enough to say “Thank God for that.”

He was temptation, I was tempted.

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via Daily Prompt: Tempted

Obligatory New Year Post

I was going to do a “2016 in Review” post, but after I wrote it, I didn’t want to share it. I learned and experienced both great triumph and heartache. Right now, though, I want to focus on what’s to come.

My theme for 2017 is Self-Love.

Every goal I set for myself this year will be geared toward becoming the best version of myself possible.

I’ve always struggled a bit with self-love and happiness. However, I just finished reading The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck (review to come) and one of the first points Manson makes is this:

The experience of seeking happiness, success, and a positive lifestyle is inherently negative. Mostly, it helps us internalize the fact that we (think) we are NOT happy, NOT successful, NOT positive people.

The moment I read that was the moment I stopped thinking of myself as unhappy. It was like magic! And along with that realization, I decided to love myself and everything I am!

BUT

That doesn’t mean I can’t improve some things or work on bettering myself and my life situation. It just means that I’m seeking all that from the healthy place of self-love, not the dangerous place of self-hate.

So without further ado, my biggest 2017 goals:

– #ArchitectBy25

– Be comfortable in my own skin

– Apply to grad school

– Be more creative and leave my comfort zone more often

– Buy a condo

These are some huge goals! They will require major focus, dedication, and perseverance, but I know I can do it

So you have a theme for 2017? What are some of your goals? Let me know in the comments!

From the Book I Will Write One Day: Frosting Part 2

“Why not?” he whined.

“Come on,” I sighed, ” you know why not.”

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” I stared at him.

“And why can’t we do that here?”

“It’s just more private there!” He was frustrated now, a scowl on his face. “Fine!” he said, his voice raised.

“What do you want me to do?” I pleaded. He just shook his head, suddenly calm.

“Nothing, never mind,” he said simply. I got up from the couch an went upstairs. Janie’s room was open and empty, so I went in and sat on the bed.

What are you doing? I asked myself for the second time that night. You know you want to. Just do it, no one will ever know–his girlfriend sure won’t. Besides, he obviously likes you more than her, otherwise he wouldn’t be doing this.

I took out my phone and sent him a message, “Come upstairs.” I waited three minutes with no response. I checked downstairs and he was sitting on the couch, still cradling his beer. I went and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned I told him to check his phone. He said he hadn’t gotten anything, so I whispered for him to meet me upstairs in five minutes. He said he had to go soon because his brother was waiting for him. Taken aback, I told him it was fine, just go. He didn’t move and I went back upstairs.

Sitting on the bed I was really nervous. Then a thought occurred to me. This isn’t my room. Silly, I know since it was so obvious, but I had forgotten. Technically, it wasn’t Janie’s either, she was just staying there. I went out to find the owner and ask to use it. She said, “Sure!” and showed me how to lock the door. She pulled out a futon for me so we didn’t have to use her bed. I wasn’t planning on going that far regardless. She left.

*Knock knock knock*

I got up to open the door, and there he was. I let him in and the shut the door behind him. I sat on the futon.

“So what’s up?” he asked

What’s up?” He looked at me expectantly, eyebrows raised. “What do you think?” I was the exasperated one now.

“I don’t know, I thought maybe you wanted to talk?”

“You think I brought you to a room upstairs at a party to talk,” I repeated in a monotone.

“No,” he shook his head slightly, finally realizing what I wanted. He sat on the futon and I straddled him. I leaned in to kiss him and closed my eyes. I felt him grow harder as I bit his bottom lip before sticking my tongue in his mouth.

This kiss felt different, wrong. His mouth was too wet, we were sloppy. He stopped me. “How far is this going?” He was searching my eyes in my silence.

I slowly unbuttoned my shirt. Once it was off I got anxious. He spanked me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pulled away from him.

“What, you don’t like that anymore?”

“I never really did, to be honest.” He looked confused.

“Okay… well, what do you like?” he asked.

“Pull my hair,” I said simply. He grabbed a hand full of my curls and yanked my head back. My heart sped up and I kissed him again, more aggressively this time. He unbuttoned my shorts and I took off his shirt.

His body was just as I remembered it, and the familiarity of it pushed the guilt out of mind. “Do you have a condom?”

From the Book I Will Write One Day: Frosting

The party was happening all around us, but we sat quietly on the couch. I watched as one guy tried to teach my friend Sweetie, a small Asian girl, how to dance bachata. She would have been awkward normally, but with the alcohol in her system she was determined to learn and followed him closely.

“Want a cupcake?” he asked me. I looked to my left and there he was: dark curly hair, perfect lips, brown eyes, and the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen. He held his Corona with both hands.

“Sure,” I replied. We jumped over the back of Janie’s couch and took three steps into the kitchen. He grabbed one of the vanilla frosted chocolate cupcakes Janie, Sweetie, and I had made for Harold’s birthday. We just stood there for a second, people walking back and forth between us. He let me take the first bite.

With the cupcake half finished we went back to the couch. I sat to his right and looked at my lap. What are you doing? I asked myself. He still has a girlfriend!

You’re not doing anything! I argued back. It’s just a cupcake!

“Here”, he said, snapping me out of my internal argument. He held his hand out, a bit of frosting on his extended index finger. I looked at him blankly. “Here,” he repeated, bringing his finger closer to me. I looked at him and covered the tip with my mouth, careful not to use my tongue, like that mattered. I looked away and swallowed, cursing myself for going along with his obvious flirting.

“Here,” I heard again. Without a second thought I wrapped my lips around his finger again. Dammit, Severn!

“You’re not going to give me any?” he asked, not meeting my eyes. I carefully scooped a bit of frosting with my index finger and offered it to him. I held my breath as he grabbed my hand and put his mouth on my finger. His eyes focused on my arm, but my eyes were glued to his. His mouth was warm and wet, his tongue soft. He extracted my finger slowly, sucking slightly until the frosting was gone. My heart hammered in my chest and I was tingling between my legs when I finally exhaled.

“Last one,” he said, his frosting covered finger three inches from his face. I leaned in closer to lick it off, and as soon as I finished he kissed me. It was a slow, soft kiss, the kind that started at my lips but spread warmth through my entire body. When he stopped my face was hot. He came in for another, but I turned my head.

“No,” I said.

“Come on, let’s go to my car,” he murmured into my neck.

“No!” I repeated, shoving him off, angry at such an offensive suggestion.

TO BE CONTINUED

Adulting || Dating

Guys. I joined Bumble.

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Full disclosure: I don’t actually know that I’m ready to date again yet. As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, I’ve never been “just dating”. I’m either in a relationship, single and lonely, or single and slutty. (Note to self: talk to therapist about this.)

Beau and I have only been broken up for about 5 weeks, BUT in perspective… That’s almost half the length of our relationship.

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Yes, I thought I was going to marry the dude (you just know, right?), but the other person kind of has to be on the same page in order for that to happen.  (._.)

So yeah. I’m not exactly ready to start dating; I don’t exactly know what dating entails, but I joined Bumble. It’s a fun time-waster, and I get a little ego-boost every time I match with a hot guy (even if I let the match expire by not actually saying anything to them).

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I also think part of the reason I joined is control. I like having it, and recently I’ve felt like I’ve lost it. Bumble let’s me have all the control I want. Swipe whichever way I want, talk to matches or don’t–it’s all up to me!

Don’t get me wrong–I know there are lots of other arenas in which I can claim control, but hear me out here: This is the only one that attacked me and left my heart broken. So I feel that even if buzzing on Bumble (I just made that up) leads to absolutely nothing (which I’m sure it will), I can at least be assured that it was my decision.

#FakeAdulting for the win. Woo!

Oh, and best case scenario I meet someone and fall in love, but I’m not counting on it, haha.

Yay Dating!

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Choices

Getting out of bed in the morning.

Driving to work everyday.

Sticking to my meal plan and workout schedule.

Talking to God every day.

Watching Netflix instead of studying.

Loving someone–or not.

These are all choices of varying importance, but they are choices nonetheless. Depression makes choosing a difficult task–sometimes impossible–but we can fight it. I fight it everyday, and for the past couple of weeks I’ve been winning.

I still don’t necessarily enjoy any of these things, but I’m doing them! And that in itself is something to be excited about.

❤ Severn

Johnny

On the bus one morning I saw half a man. I mean that quite literally–he had no legs. He was in a wheel chair with a long, skinny, stuffed white trash bag hanging off the back. He was a black man, probably early fifties, and clearly in a lot of pain. His body was at a 60 degree angle from the back of his chair. I thought he might fall out, especially with the constant stop-motion of the bus, but he was holding on tight. One hand was on the edge of the bus’ folded up blue seats, the other on the arm of his chair.

Johnny. That was his name.

I could imagine his youth, when he was just a boy, but whole. His mouth was contorted in agony, but I could easily see the way it used to brighten his face with a smile.

He had a friend, a white man probably around the same age. The friend had a backpack and asked the bus at large if we had any change to spare when they got on. I gave him all my quarters. He took them gently, “Thanks, hun,” and returned to deposit at least fifty coins. He locked Johnny into the handicap spot and went to the back to find a seat. Him I couldn’t imagine in anything other than his current state. That is, until their stop was next.

Johnny’s friend reappeared right after the bus left the Blue Line, “You ready, Johnny? Our stop is next.” We stopped at Pulaski and a few people got off the bus. Johnny’s friend couldn’t unlock the wheelchair from the seats. He took the break off the wheel and reached behind the chair to mess with the mechanism, but he couldn’t get it. While his friend fumbled, Johnny was trying to pull something his friend couldn’t see. He was silent, focused on the lever that inevitably led to his freedom, but it was out of his reach. Finally, he made a sound. His voice was murky, and I couldn’t make out any actual words, but maybe I just wasn’t listening hard enough. His friend came around to the front of the chair, “This?” and grabbed the lever. Johnny made an affirming sound, looking straight at the ground from his angled position, and his friend pushed the lever towards him.

Click

Johnny’s friend went back around to grab the chair handles. Just before they left, while they waited for the bus driver to release the ramp, Johnny’s friend looked at his reflection in the window. He angled his face down so he could see his hair, the pupils of his eyes almost disappearing behind his top lids. With both hands he fixed his slightly floppy hair in a way that reminded me of the Greasers, or the Outsiders. In that moment I could imagine what he used to be like. I even pictured him with Johnny, though I’m sure they met later on in life.

Johnny’s friend showing up in front of Johnny’s house in a beat up Cadillac, but a Cadillac nonetheless. He’d beep twice and yell, “Johnny, let’s go!” as two pretty young blonde girls giggled in the back seat. Johnny would walk out, and while the girls were focused on the fine black man on the porch, Johnny’s friend would fix his hair in the rear view mirror. Just a quick one, two before smiling ear to ear as Johnny opened the door to get in, one long leg at a time. “Let’s roll!”

Johnny’s friend rolled him down the ramp and thanked the bus driver, turning to smile at me one last time before the doors closed.

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How I’ve Been Handling Life

  • productive distractions like laundry, cleaning, writing
  • non-productive distractions like Netflix
  • talking to my mom and friends about my feelings
  • repeatedly telling myself to get my life together, making plans to do so, and failing at said plans, repeat
  • therapy (yay!)
  • shopping (yay!)
  • many imaginary conversations in my head, but mostly just overthinking the shit out of my life, feelings, and things I can’t control
  • trying (and failing) to not think about Beau
  • reminding myself to love myself
  • taking baby steps to figure out what a “normal” life is for me