I remember our first date. We were having coffee. I sat across from him, miles away. He didn’t even know me, but to me, he was an open book ready to be feasted upon by my ever curious eyes. I searched through depths of his mind- reading post after post. He was intriguing, I thought to myself. He became the muse and today, I’m borrowing his concept to bring DTM. Read the rest of this entry »
This title happens to be one of my favourite songs by Birdy. The lyrics below speak volumes:
You don’t have to do this on your own
Like there’s no one that cares about you
You don’t have to act like you’re alone
Like the walls are closing in around you
You don’t have to pretend no one knows
Like there’s no one that understands you
I’m not just some face you used to know
I know all about you
And you should know that someone cares about you
I know all about you
If you’re reading this, then you probably read the first letter and you’re back as I asked. Or not. It’s just an assumption. I’ve been trying to write to you. But my cares and worries won’t let me. I’ve been trying to speak to you but my voice is muffled inside. I’ve been trying to reach you, to let you know this too shall pass. Well, it either passes or you pass from it. Read the rest of this entry »
Pause. I’m moving too fast. I’m trying to beat the clock and still have a perfect piece… impossible right? Yeah, I know. I don’t know what to write about… this isn’t the first time my mind is going blkank on me. Haha, I just saw that error and it’s talking all of me to stop muself from going to correct it. Dang! Another error. I hate them! I wish I could correct every error in my life. Every mistake I’ve made. Coulcnt there be a big eraser somewhere? These errors are driving me nuts. I hear I’ve got OCDs but is this one of them? Trying to make sure everything is perfect. Including the people I meet. I mean, don’t laugh so loud. Be courteous. Why are you always talking? Can’t you just be… perfect?
Am I perfect? Probably…not. It’s no surprise I push myself to insatiable points. Beaying myself up about every mistake. These things drive me crazy. Perfection. No one really attains that in a world that seeks to constantly remind us of our imperefections.
I’m grinding my teeth oover every red line on the screen which indicates a word spelt wrongly. I could take my time- but I’ve got only ten minutes. This is ridiculous! I should probably quite this. I quit trying to spell ‘quit’ correctly. I’ve quit a lot of things. Things I just wasn’t perfect in. like really, why do it when you wouldn’t do it perfectly?
Haha, reminds me of school. I’d cry my eyes put (out0 for…aarrrgh! I missed the sepelling of ‘out’ and a freaking bracket sign. Just three minutes left ion the clock, I bet I haven’t made any senese. Haha, welcome to my mind.
It’s an incredible web of loose thoughts flung around, some tied in knots and others- just wild and free. I hate that this piece isn’t perfect. I hate that life isn’t perfect. I hate that you’re not perfect. I hate that I’m not perfect.
But there’s beauty in it all. There’s beauty in an incomplete and somewhat uncoordinated piece. There’s beauty in that smile that seems feign and in that laugh that drives me insane. Theres beauty in imperfections. I’m driving myself to the point where I’m fine with my imperfections and not so crazy. It’s time. Don’t I have a few seconds left? Maybe one..two.. dang!
Time: 10 minutes. Word count: 392
This post was written in response to a blog I read where writers are challenged to come up with a post of about 500 words in 10 minutes.
PS: It took everything within me to publish this with all its mistakes. I’m sorry it’s messy and imperfect! 😦 But that’s the ‘fun’ part of this challenge 🙂
- You are to time yourself in 10 minutes
- place a stopwatch by your side as you type
- backspace or delete button is a no no
- You must not edit what you type
Anybody want to try? 😀
I watched as her demeanour changed when she picked up the phone to see the caller. She didn’t answer. Neither did she put the phone on silence. She just looked away. Her features looked distressed. Who could the caller have been? I wondered. My friend who had just been laughing some minutes back now looked as though she partook of the ice bucket challenge. Her face was completely flustered.
I’m not one to dig into personal concerns except people willingly share them with me. Well, that’s why I get paid for my listening and confidentiality as a therapist. But I still couldn’t help but ask her.
“Who was the caller?” She looked a little shocked as though she wasn’t expecting me to notice.
“It’s him.” She swallowed hard. Fighting the tears that soon began to stain her artificially blushed cheeks.
What is it about men that made women cry? Why do they wield such power to open the floodgates of tears for even the strongest of all women? That I would never know.
As I tried to console her, she freely opened up as to how they had been having issues in the relationship. He’d beat her and later buy her some expensive gift as an appeasement. My one night of having fun away from work got ruined as it turned out to be another therapy session.
By the time we were done, she was happy and empowered. While I looked drained and ordered another drink.
“He’s here to pick me up.” She said after taking his call. I could see the asking-for-permission look on her face.
“Oh please don’t worry about me. Go have fun!” I encouraged. She scampered away with a lot of thank yous.
I was back to being alone. The way I had always been. Lately being alone scared me. Lately- that’s because prior to this period, I had always savoured my aloneness. I’d say being a custodian of other people’s secrets isn’t so good after all. It keeps me up at night, tossing and turning.
Now I was taking some drinks because I was down. I just had to cover up my own heartbreak and be there for my friend. But now that I needed someone to be there for me, there was no one in sight.
It’s funny how some people are always seen as rocks. So solid they don’t have weak moments. So people never really bother to find out how they are. I’m one of such rocks. And men, I must say this rock is breaking.
I’ve been having a lot of strange dreams lately; dreams that I can’t seem to figure; dreams that keep me away from sleep.
I can’t bear to go back home now, even though my friend bailed on me. It’s grave back there.
Now that I think of it, was I right to tell her she could still go back to her man who beats her? Or was I too carried away by my problems to actually think things through. That’s why therapy sessions should be saved for my couch, not a bar stool. Sighs.
©Mfon Etuk, 2016
Hey guys, sorry there’s no Rachel’s musings this week, please bear with me. Plus, you might be seeing a lot of unrelated fiction stories like this, just enjoy it and stop tryna piece them together 😉 Remember the purpose of the Friday fiction is for entertainment and to help my fiction writing skills. Please feel free to share improvement tips or topics you’d like me to write about. Thanks and God bless! ❤
I met a zoologist today
This time last May
He didn’t have a word to say
But with him I felt at bay
His laugh reminded me of hyenas that play
And when he played he looked like a dolphin at bay
He carried his kid along as a kangaroo- but that’s okay
And like a hawk, he watched over her along the way
I met a zoologist today
And his name was Ray
On his blade like shoulders I lay
Secure in his strong arms is where I want to stay
©Mfon Etuk, 2016
And it’s a wrap on the A-Z blogging challenge! Woo hoo! Thanks for sticking with me to the end. God bless you! 🙂