I am

Filled with undefined bliss

Incessant, intense, insane, indescribable


The place where my heart sits is too small

For my ballooning joy.

My happiness weighs me down like a stone

And drags me to the bottom of the ocean

– my air bubbles float to the surface

And my lungs become shrivelled prunes.

Some say when you repeat something

Over and over and over

You’re trying to convince yourself of

Something that isn’t true.

So I tell myself,

“everything is good and fine”

“everything is good and fine”

“everything is good and fine.”

I’m told I have a nice smile.

So I smile a lot

On the outside, but inside

Someone punched my teeth in and

suddenly my smile isn’t so nice anymore.

But, they don’t know that.

They see what they want to see.

A nice girl. A pretty girl. A good girl.

That’s all they’ll ever see.

B. says I’m able to handle everything so well,

Everything being the mess inside my brain.

And I do.

But sometimes,

I stare at the celling

As my brain spins on a

haunted ferris wheel of the past.

And sometimes,

Numbing black water spreads

Across my body –

it feels like my limbs

detach themselves and run away.

And sometimes

My tears are lava

And as they streak down my face

Leave third degree burns in

their wake.

And sometimes

I want to change into a bird

So I can fly

Straight into the sun.

And sometimes

Flashbacks bring me back to

when he took without asking;

My body will tremble furiously

As another earthquake

cracks inside of me.

And sometimes,


My hummingbird beats its wings

Hard against my chest

And an ugly giant sets a boulder

on my lungs,

Impossible to move,

And it stays there for a long time.

They ask, “how are you?”

And I give the generic answer of “good”

Because it would take too long to explain

How I really am.

~ ~

Song of the day:

To the Moon and Back – Dead and Divine 











It Tastes like Melancholy

I was incredibly sad and didn’t know why. It hit me like slipping on ice. BAM! I’m down and can’t shake off the numbness. Have you ever felt that before? A sadness deep within you, like cold that reaches the bone. If sunshine was grey, I would be sunshine. If music was silent, I would be music. numb

I didn’t realize I was faking happiness until I got into my car and shut the door; until I was faced with silence and my own thoughts. I had smiled and laughed, but only because everyone else was. Confusion strikes me hard. Why? I had a great day with the best people. Nothing had gone wrong, nothing was preoccupying my thoughts like a paperweight on my mind.

I’m not a gloomy person. I’m usually bubby and happy and smiley and probably the craziest person you will ever meet. The last time I was absolutely miserable was about six years ago.

Sure, I’ve had instances of sadness for good reasons over that span of time, like when my dog died, or a family member passed away, or something traumatic would happen.

I’ve never been sad for no gosh darn reason. Well, until now of course.

I start my car and plug my phone into the auxiliary cord, turning my music onto shuffle.

It was so weird because it was like my music could sense that I was sad. It played all of my melancholy songs on my drive home. It was a long drive.

When I ate that day, my apple tasted like nothing, like my taste buds had packed up and moved on to bigger and better things. I think my taste buds broke up with me…

But, I ate that whole apple even though the constant numb dullness increased throughout the day. nothing

That numbness sat in my stomach like an apple seed and though I neglected it, it was still tended to. It grew and spread all over my body. Then, it bloomed at the top of my head and the fruit rained down my face in tears.

If I told you, Don’t think about elephants, you’re gonna think about elephants, no matter how hard you try. It’s the same with sadness. If you tell yourself not to feel sad, you’re gonna feel sad anyway. Denial is the first step.

As I’m driving down the highway, I am quiet. I barely listen to the music. My favourite song comes on and I don’t sing along. The oddness of my behaviour strikes me again. What is wrong with me? I think to myself. I should be belting out those lyrics and dancing so aggressively that I almost drive into the ditch! wrong

I feel lethargic and mentally drained. Why? I ask myself again? Why? Why? Why? It seems like “Y” is the only letter of the alphabet I know.

“Am I getting my period?” I say out loud, trying to determine the cause of my sadness. Well yeah, I think to myself, but I’m never sad when I’m menstruating. I’m usually happier than my regular self. “Maybe I should start exercising more, get some endorphins in me?” You could… I think to myself, a doubtful thought.

I chew on the inside of my lip.   

A song comes on that is painfully heartbreaking and I turn my volume up all the way.

“I need this.” I whisper to myself.

tears fall

I sing along to the song and can feel tears welling up in my eyes. They pile up and overflow down my cheeks, one by one. I cry silently until the song is over. I turn down the volume to nearly zero. I take the palm of my hand and gently wipe the tears away.

Silence fills the car for half a second before the next song comes on, barely audible.

My family is very unbalanced. My mom and dad are complete opposites. They say opposites attract but opposites fight and bicker most of the time. My mom is very controlling and has a certain way of doing things. My dad is very laid-back and easy-going. My mom is a very emotional person. My dad hardly shows any emotion. I’m stuck in the middle between their personality traits. I’m sensitive but I’m also thick-skinned. I’m easy-going but also anxious. I’ve never really known how I should feel. I mean, for Christ’s sake, I’m the most passive-aggressive person you will ever meet. I am an “in-betweener”.     i dont know

I think I’ve always been afraid of being sad, and this comes from someone who was near depressed my entire elementary school life. It’s hard not to be afraid of being overly sad because I never want to go back to the girl who cried herself to sleep every night out of pure loneliness. I never want to experience such pain again.

I’ve tried to come to terms with sadness and accept it back into my life. I’ve always been so focused on being happy that I’ve forgotten that is it okay to be sad. There always has to be a balance of everything in your life. Too much of a good thing never goes well. I let myself be sad to get it out of my system. I’ll watch a sad movie or make myself really think about my saddening thoughts – both of which have been great coping mechanisms for me. Suppressing emotions has always been something I would do and I’m trying to work on that.lana del ray

The release of those emotions puts me at peace and has been one of the best feelings I haven’t felt in a long time.


Song of the day:

Run with the Hunted – Skyhill 


Its always been hard for me to say “no”. To bigger things, I guess. It should be so simple. It’s one syllable. Two letters. It’s not hard to pronounce. But, for some unexplainable reason, I can’t do it.

It doesn’t help that I’m passive-aggressive and quiet, at times. I hate confrontation and drama. My true feelings get lost in the wants and needs of others. My ultimate flaw is I try to please everyone.

And then, on top of all that, I’m a wallflower. I’m used to people walking all over me or bumping into me like I’m not there. So, when a guy notices me, takes interest in me, I’m shocked. And then I really want to like them back, like I owe it to them. Then, something manifests inside me that’s a façade.

That’s where things get complicated.

My first relationship was complex and messy and melodramatic. We dated for four months. Sometimes I wonder how I got myself into that mess. Not a lot went right.

From my past experiences with boys, I rush into things. I’ll watch romantic movies and I want what I see on the screen, so whoever takes interest in me, I’ll dive head first into that without much hesitation. With my true first relationship, I wanted to take things slow.

Obviously, that didn’t happen.

I had trouble saying what I really wanted, maybe because I didn’t know what I wanted. I don’t know. But, it was actually he who rushed things. You know, after a week of hanging out, we started dating. Is that normal? I would ask myself over and over. I guess I was okay with that. He must know what he’s doing because he’s so experienced…

And then, as I got to know him better, doubts begin to fill my mind faster than I could control them. Did I want this? I pushed those thoughts out of my mind and told myself everything would be fine.

I knew from the beginning the needed help. I saw more “red flags” in one month than he probably did in his entire life. He was really, really messed up and terribly unstable. He brought his past into the present and couldn’t let anything go. He was broken and wanted me to fix him, when I knew I couldn’t. And frankly, I didn’t want to. I was getting pulled deeper and deeper into something I hadn’t signed up for. I felt pressure from every angle. I felt trapped and claustrophobic. The longer I stayed in that relationship, the faster I ran out of air.

I don’t know how many times he cried in my lap and said, “I don’t know what I’d do if you left me”. Red flag.

I told him to seek help, I told him to ask for help. He didn’t. He figured he could fix layers of depression, among other problems, with gaming and sex and alcohol. My parents didn’t like him, my friends didn’t like him, but there I was defending him, staying with him. And for what?

I couldn’t express my true feelings because he was so unpredictable. I felt like if I said the wrong thing, he would hurt himself. I had to concern myself with his mental health and what was best for him and not what was best for me.

He had hurt himself before and tried to kill himself, too, multiple times. I remember going over to his house and seeing knives sitting on his bed, an arms length away. He’d push them away and laugh it off.

I was really scared. I didn’t know what to do.

I was just a toy to keep him happy for short-periods of time. I felt like I had to put on a fake smile and pretend everything was fine, when it really, really wasn’t. What I wanted and what I felt didn’t seem to matter. It was always all about him.

And then, love seemed to come into the equation. He said those three words after three months. I didn’t. How can you say you love someone after such a short time? That wasn’t love. That was having a dependence on someone else and searching so hard for something that wasn’t there. I was naïve and had no idea what I was doing. I’m 19, why the fuck would I be thinking about anything like that. I was never looking for a serious relationship, or even love. I don’t know what love is. I’ve never felt it before. He freaked out when I didn’t say it back. I had to sit with him, rub his back, and said, “I just can’t say it right now”, when I didn’t want to say it at all. I wish I would have ended it right there but I couldn’t. I was bound to him because I was worried about his safety. I was in too deep and didn’t know how to swim.

I felt like I had just dug my own grave.

And then he started talking about marriage and kids. We barely knew each other. From that moment on, I wanted out and I wanted out bad.

I pushed him away and said I was busy with school work. It wasn’t a lie, I really was. I just made myself seem busier than I actually was.

I wanted to break up with him, and thought about it constantly in the last month we dated. And I did it, in person, but I was so scared. When I said, “we need to talk”, he told his friends he was going to hurt himself, well, sounded like it anyway. I brought two of my friends along with me, in case things got out of hand, and called it “a break”, in hopes that it would be an easier transition. It wasn’t. The break-up lasted a month. A month of drama, right as finals were going on. I was stressed and anxious and so tired. I told him I didn’t want to talk and to give me space. He didn’t leave me alone, basically harassed me on social media and blew up my phone. And then one night he got drunk and decided to text me. He was angry and threw a tantrum, said I was acting immature and playing with his feelings when I think I had made my stance pretty clear. There was a slight chance I would get back together with him but that was quickly lost in his unwillingness to change. Now, he drinks and drinks and drinks. Its out of my hands now.

All I can do is forget and move on. I’m just glad it’s all over.

~ ~

Song of the day:

Everybody hurts – REM 





Words to use at Cocktail Parties

(English literature addition)


If you want to sound like an educated snob who knows more than anyone, slip one or two of these words into your vocabulary at your next get-together:

  • Literary Cannon: A collection of works measured by their literary skill and value
  • Alliterative Verse- uses alliteration to help indicate the underlying metrical structure, as opposed to devices such as rhyming.
  • Elegiac tone- death, sorrowful, or mournful tone.
  • Horatian satireism: toned down, more tolerant, gentle.
  • Ironic Narrator: using specific (easy to identify) disconnect between what the characters and readers know (often occurring in dialogue).
  • Christendom- all Christian works considered together
  • Canonical- according to or ordered by cannon law.
  • Memento Mori- “Reminder of Death”
  • Juvahalism satireism- Anger/hateful/spiteful tone
  • Religious humanism- religious rituals and beliefs that center on human needs abilities.
  • Secular humanism- that humanity is capable of morality and self-fulfillment without the belief in God.
  • The sublime: love of nature. Often associated with the romantic poets.
  • Misogyny- hatred of women.
  • Menippean Satire- usually in prose, length and structure similar to a novel and is characterized by attacking mental attitudes rather than specific individuals.
  • Anthropomorphism- the attribution of human characteristics or behaviour to a god, animal or object.
  • Prose: writtedavid tenn or spoken language in its ordinary form without metrical structure

~ ~

This was a fun little list I put together during my school year in my second year as a English major. In one of my ENG classes, my prof would use words I didn’t know the meaning of. Before he’d write a word on the board he’d say (full of pride), “Here is another word to use at a cocktail party”. And so I kept track of all the words he encouraged us to at use cocktail parties, though we were all “youngins” who don’t go to cocktail parties (maybe tailgate parties would be the appropriate term now-a-days). This isn’t all of them of course and maybe I’ll continue with this in the future.


Song of the day:

Cherry Wine -Hozier 

shes a beauty.gif

The Packages

“Rosanne?” A woman with fiery red hair and brilliant green eyes calls from inside an unusually large office. She sits at her desk furiously typing on her computer.

furiously typing

A short woman piddles into her office, heavily pregnant “Yes?”

“I urgently requested a background check. Has it been faxed over yet?

“The background check on…?” Rosanne wrinkles her nose, confused.

“On a Mr.…?” she stops short, ruffling through papers. “…a Mr. Joe Jefferson?”

“Ah, yes!” Rosanne scuttles out of the office. She comes back, walking fast. “Here you are.” She hands the papers over.

“Thank you.” She goes back to typing and ruffling through papers. The woman at the desk, who seems very important, is Ruby Carson. After attending Harvard and attaining her Masters of Law degree, she applied at the McKenzie law firm. After working for the company for five years she became one of the top lawyers and has never losthugs for days a case. She’s ruthless and one of the best god damn lawyers you’ll ever meet; just don’t tell her I said that.

The day comes to a close and Ruby finishes up. She adjusts her many papers piled on her desk into neat piles, grabs her briefcase, and calls it a day. She wears a grey pantsuit with a white ruffled blouse underneath and classic black Jimmy choos. She long hair is curled and tied in a high pony tail. Her makeup looks effortless – black winged eyeliner and smoky eyes paired with a nude lip.

“See you tomorrow, Rosanne.” Ruby gives a small wave, stopping at her receptionist’s desk.

“We still on her coffee?” Rosanne asks, looking up from her computer screen.

“Yes, absolutely!” Ruby smiles, wide and sincere. “It will be more of a tea date, I suppose.”

“Yeah, can’t have coffee with this little monster growing inside me.” Rosanne chuckles and rubs her belly. “It was a tough change; I used to be a caffeine addict. Had five cups a day. It took a bit of getting used to. What did you have to give up while you were pregnant?”


“With my first, little Kit, I had to give up sushi. At the time, I would have sushi everyday for lunch. With Evelyn, it was deli meats – course they recommend to avoid that completely. The things we do for our kids; I tell ‘ya…” Ruby shakes her head playfully.

“Right?” Rosanne says.

“When you going on mat-leave?”

“Next month.”

“I’m gonna miss you. My replacement won’t be able to master your prowess.”

“Ruby, tell me more about how amazing I am.” Rosanne bats her eyelashes at Ruby.

Ruby laughs. “If I do I’ll be late picking up my kids. I don’t want those bitchy mothers at daycare nominating me for worst mother of the year award. Jessica Miller picked up her kids late one day and those ladies completely shunned her. It was ugly.”

“They sound awful.”

“They are. I’m glad I’m only forced to hang out with them once a month. Any more than that and I think I would develop an ulcer from the social stress.”

“And I thought you were an extrovert.”those bitches

“I am but with people like that I just wish I was an introvert.” Ruby sighs and snorts. “Anyway, gotta run.”

“Alright. Say hi to the hubby for me?”

Ruby nods and scurries off.

~ ~ ~

Ruby sits in traffic in her blue mini-van. The radio plays quietly in the background and both Evelyn and Kit sit in their car seats in the back. Kit lightly kicks the back of Ruby’s seat.

Ruby laughs roughly. “Hey there mister, stop that!” She swings one arm around and grabs one of Kit’s feet, giving it a light shake.

“Hey!” Kits says, and laughs playfully – a high shrilled sound. He kicks his feet like he’s trying to swim very fast. Ruby quickly retreats her arm, realizing the danger of the situation and places both of her hands firmly on the steering wheel. Traffic slowly begins to move forward.

crazy kids

Kit has green eyes and brown hair – he looks a little more like his dad than his mom. He’s three years old and a bit of a handful, full of energy. Evelyn is a year old and has platinum blond hair and icy blue eyes. She’s more calm than her brother but a bit clingy. Though Ruby doesn’t mind the dozens of cuddles from her little girl.

Evelyn sings quietly to her self, and looks quizzically out the window.

“Whatcha singing, Ev?” Ruby asks, looking at her daughter through her rear-view mirror.

“Um…” Evelyn says in her high baby doll voice, turning to face forward. “Twinkle wittle stwar!” She exclaims, a proud expression on her face.

“That’s a good one! Did you learn that in daycare today?” Ruby smiles.

“Yeah! I weally like that one.”

“Can I hear you sing it?”Kid Baby Rock On

“Otay.” Evelyn pauses for a moment. “Twinkle, twinkle wittle stwar. How wonder what you are. Up ‘bove world so high. Like a diamond in sky.”

“Wow! That’s so beautiful, Ev!”

Evelyn giggles and wrinkles her nose up as she smiles.

“Did you learn anything new today, my little monster?” Ruby asks, turning her gaze to Kit.

cute anger

“Not really.” Kit says, slightly rolling his eyes and offering a sigh. “Oh!” Kit exclaims.

“What?” Ruby says enthusiastically.

“I made a new friend!” Kit smiles widely.

“That’s wonderful honey! What’s his name?”

“Mooom!” Kit says, exasperated. “It’s not a boy. It a girl!”

“A girl? Oh, well what’s her name then?”


“Do you want to have a playdate with her sometime?”

“Oh yes pluease, mommy!” Kit raises a fist in the air.

Ruby chuckles to her herself and turns up the music on the radio.

“Hey Evelyn, its your favourite song!”

Treasure by Bruno Mars starts to play.

“Oh wow, mummy. How’d you know?”dance baby dance

“I didn’t the radio started to play it, sweetie!”

“Tank you radio!”

~ ~ ~    

Three out of the four Carson family members pull into the driveway of their house. Ruby shuts off the ignition and gets out of the car, unbuckling her kids from their car-seats. Kit jumps down by himself, a race car in hand. He promptly kneels on the pavement and begins playing, makivroom vroom bichng loud vroom noises. Ruby lifts Evelyn from her car seat and places her carefully on the ground. She offers her finger and Evelyn promptly grabs hold.

“No, no. Common, Kit.” Ruby calls over her shoulder. “You’re going to get all dirty.” She grimaces a little.

“But, I wanna play, mommy.” Kit groans.

“You can play inside, okay sweetie? I’ll even let you have a snack before supper.”

“Well, okay…” Kit says reluctantly, but is more enticed by the promise of a snack than anything. He gets up roughly and runs after his mom and sister. Ruby opens the door and Kit races in between her legs, through the barrier.

“Careful, Kit!” Ruby exclaims, startled. “Take off your shoes, please.”

Kit plops himself down and works at taking off his velcro shoes.

“Common, Ev.” Ruby says patiently.

“Wait, mummy.”

sloth and flurs“What is it, honey?”

“Look at those pretty flowers. Are those for me?” Evelyn says, pointing at a bouquet of flowers leaning against the side of their house. Ruby raises an eyebrow and quickly grabs them.

“I’m sure they are.” Ruby plays along. “I don’t think anybody would get me flowers except your dad.” She scurries Evelyn inside and shuts the door. She sighs, exhausted by trying to get her kids inside.secret admirer She helps Evelyn take off her shoes and grabs both of her kid’s granola bars to munch on.

While they are distracted, she takes a closer look at the bouquet. They are daisies, every flower beautiful and perfect. Ruby narrows her eyebrows. She looks for a note or a card and after some time, she finally finds a small card hidden among the flowers.

The card simply reads: From your secret admirer.

“Huh.” Ruby says out-loud. For some reason, an uneasily feeling sits in her stomach like she had swallowed a stone.

dean and chcoco

“Well, are the for me, mommy?” Evelyn says optimistically, chocolate smeared all over her face.

“They are. I’m going to put them in a vase just for you.”

Evelyn squeals happily and takes another small bite of her granola bar.

Ruby fills a vase with water and roughly shoves the daisy’s in, placing them on the center of the dinner table.

~ ~

Obviously this isn’t finished. I was thinking of turning this in to a darker story, if you couldn’t already tell. Slowly chipping away at it between when I have days off from work.  But, when I do get days off from work I don’t feel to need to write or feel inspired to do so. Which sucks – sometimes that means I have to force myself to write and as I am trying to write I get inspired. Its the strangest thing.

Song of the day:

The Worst Guys – Childish Gambino 

ron swan                  

The Death of Sugar

The white landscape demonstrates the graveness of time. Tsugar.gifhe ancient moon’s blue waves break through darkness. Fluffy clouds of comfy cotton candy float eerily, like transparent ghosts. Sugar rains on the plains and clumps together; sticky mess does distress the cold ground. Smooth like glass, slippery as ice. Soft, gummy-bear pairs squished and squashed. Iron candy canes trees, devoid of colour, in a blink sink to one tired side. A feathering of chalky chocolate floats and coats the ground below. This blasphemous swirled world, once craving to be raving with colour and life, proves only to be the treachery of memory. The planet stripped away of joy in an angry frenzy by greedy Augustus Gloop’s. The traumatic truth revealed in agony of this tragedy, tragically. The weather of sugar snow falls faster to this disaster below, and slowly the lonely world fades fast away.


~ ~ ~

Song of the day:

Out of the Black – Royal Blood  


Three Perspectives

The Reader:

I pick up a book I could read with my eyes closed; I’ve read it at least a million times. I hold the book to my nose and breath in its smell. The sky is dark and I sigh happily, belleletting myself collapse into my favorite red armchair. Then, I immerse myself into the story. A couple pages in something odd happens. I turn a page and there are no words on it. I stop, confused, and ruffle through more pages. Those, too, are blank. Stumped, I bring the book down to sit on my lap. Then, like magic, words start to appear on the blank page. In slow strokes, like someone is actually writing on the page, a single word appears. Katy, it reads and fades away. My heart pounds because that’s my name. Katy. It writes again but this time I hear a voice saying my name. I sit up straight and look around. Katy, it’s me. I read these words appearing faster now as the voice gets louder. Don’t you know who I am? I shut the book abert and erniend hurl it across the room.

“This is crazy!” I say out loud, shaking my head, then I stop, pondering. “Am I crazy?”

The book opens by itself and the voice says, No, of course you aren’t crazy.

“Who…what are you?” I say, my voice trembling and I slowly walk back to the book, kneeling beside it.

I am the author of your favorite book, and…well, I need you to help me with a problem I’m tangled in. It writes. 

a readerMy confusion grows larger.

“This isn’t real, is it?” I say, standing up fast.

“I’m afraid so. As you can tell, I’m stuck inside this book. If you could just….”

I start to panic. “This…this is what I get for staying up this late…! I’m going to bed!” I say and run upstairs. I jump into my bed and pull the covers over my head like a kid who’s scared of monsters.

The Author:

“I’m going to bed!” Katy says running upstairs as fast as she can.

“Blast!” I say, “I’m afraid I scared her away… I should have chosen the subtle approach.”

Mine is quite a tragic story, I must say. A great writer stuck in his own book through some sort of sorcery. Katy reads my book often enough I usually see her everyday and from this, my romantic feelings for her have blossomed. Although, she doesn’t know…yet… Interestingly enough, she has fallen in love with my work and the idea of a great writer, but not really me.

“Let’s give it another go, shall we?” I say and wish with all my might for the book to appear in Katy’s room and of course it does because it’s magic. I float in mid-air, at the edge of Katy’s bed.

“Katy, listen to me…” I begin but unfortunately frighten the poor girl once again as she begins screaming from underneath her covers.

hit em with that

“Katy, I need you to stop screaming!” I say, raising my voice but trying to keep it level.

Katy continues to scream.

“Katy, please!” And with that magic word, all is silent. “Well, all I had say was please.” If I could shrug I would have.

“I swear to god if you don’t leave me alone…” Katy threatens.

“Katy…I really need your help.”

“I can’t believe this is happening. I”m talking to a book!” Katy says, slowing removing the blanket from her head. She pinches herself. “Nope, this is definitely real.” Her eyes are wide and her mouth gapes open.

“Please calm down.” I use that word again, since it worked the first time. “I need you to destroy this book.” I say casually.

“Excuse me?” She cocks her head to the side dramatically. “This is a special edition! There are only two others like it.” Katy shrieks.

“Listen, long story short, a character I wrote is trying to kill me.” wait wat


“Alright, expanding on that, she’s in love with me, and I’m in love with you so she’s jealous and wants me to suffer in too many horrible ways to count.”

“You’re…you’re in love with me? I think I’m going to faint…” Katy fans herself.

“Look, would you just do it?” I say quickly.

“If I do, will it shut you up?”


“Then I’ll do it.!” Katy says, with a little too much enthusiasm.

The Character:

Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time Katherine (that’s me) was written into the greatest story ever told by her true love (swoon), the author. But, as every great love story goes, they were never meant to be. You see, the author was in the real world and Katherine (hiya) was stuck inside a dusty, old book, only meant to relive the same sequence of events over and over (booorring). Katherine (hi there) contacted a powerful sorcerer to pull the author into the story so they could be together at last. But, the author was afraid and didn’t appreciate what Katherine had done for hiewwwm and hid within his own story. One day, a girl named Katy (hated because of her stupidity) bought the magnificent book and read it over and over (I mean common girl, get a life!). Unexpectedly, the author fell in love with (stupid) Katy and broke Katherine’s heart. With revenge on her mind, she set out to kill the author and herself so she could have him forever; no one would ever experience his great work every again (Muahah!). However, (stupid, no good) Katy burned the magnificent book and killed (the lovely, beautiful) Katherine and all the other characters (but who really cares about them?), setting the author free. How am I telling you this story, you ask? Well, if magic exists then anything can happen, sweetie. And who lived happily ever after? Not Katherine (who should have), that’s for sure.

~ ~ ~

Song of the day:

Redbone – Childish Gambino              



He twisted the knife deeper into her chest. The girl convulsed beneath him, her breathing shallow, her life fading. He watched as dark blood oozed around his fishing knife and stained his hands. It puddled around them both. He smiled, the devil on his lips, and a sense of pride washed over him.

The darkness was approaching the girl too fast, faster than he predicted. The corners of his mouth turned down.

“Aw, common honey. Just five more minutes?” He tilted his head to the side like a sad puppy. “Can you do that for me? Just hang on for five more minutes?” He begged.

The girl didn’t respond. She stopped breathing.

“Well, you’re no fun,” he sighed. “I guess playtime’s over.”

He got up off his limp play-thing and roughly removed the knife sunk deep into her chest. More blood splattered onto the floor.

He looked around the room, suddenly horrified at what he saw. He gasped.

“Look at this mess you’ve made!” He exclaimed, casting a dark glance at the body. “How many times have I told you to clean up after yourself? You know better, sweetie.” He placed both hands sternly on his hips. “Will I have to tell mommy about this?”


“That’s what I thought,” he nodded firmly. “But, don’t worry, it will be our little secret, okay?” He smiled sweetly at the corpse. He kneeled beside her and began stroking her hair. “You rest now. You’ve had a long day. Daddy will clean up your mess, okay?”

He stood, grabbing both of her heels. He dragged the corpse a couple of steps, dropped her feet and rolled her body into a garbage chute.

“Sweet dreams, my darling,” he called after her, as her body tumbled down. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

He smiled to himself and began cheerfully humming

“What a lovely girl,” he said to himself. “If only she were my daughter…” He sighed.

Suddenly, he heard a soft scratching noise.

“Amelia!” He barked harshly.

“Yes, father?” A small, muffled voice asked.

“What did I tell you about making any noise while daddy is working?” He snarled.

“I’m sorry father…”

“Shut up!” He screamed, his voice echoing off empty walls.

He roughly ran his hands through his hair, clenching his teeth together.

“Daddy’s going out again to find you a new sister.” He said. “You stay in that closet, ‘ya hear?”

“Yes, father.” Amelia whispered.

“Good girl,” he mumbled. “Good girl.”

Slowly, his scowl disappeared. He breathed in and out deeply. Once he had composed himself he grabbed his dirtied knife, stuck it in his belt loop and started his search once more for the perfect daughter.

And he was a father of incredibly high standards.

~ ~ ~



Song of the day:

Karma Police- Radiohead 


A man sits on the bus. He’s older – maybe 60. Face and hands covered in dirty, brown splotches. Short and cracked fingernails. White hair – tangled, matted, greasy. A strong odour lingers in the air, his perfume of old cigarette smoke. Skinny, he didn’t eat everyday. A blank face, though, devious smirk plays on his lips. I watch him in odd fascination, quick glances. I don’t know why. My heart hurts for him. Melancholy dries my mouth. The man pulls the string – BING – and stands to get off. Grabs a black duffel bag, tucked under his seat. Probably clothes, I think. Throws shoulder strap across body and turns the bag around. The other side is mesh, tiny air holes. A small white dogs peaks out at me. Surprise! A maltese. Years of dirt trapped in its fur. Dark, grey fur. Sad, black eyes covered in brown gunk. Fur hung over eyes. It yawns, sticks out tongue and rolls it into mouth. So quiet and calm, I didn’t notice it. It braces self in the bag as the bus bounces aggressively over bumps. The man isn’t too careful with that bag. The bus screeches to a stop, the man with his dog hop off. Life goes on if they never existed. His heavy smell lingers. I turn my face towards the window, enjoying the warmth on this winter day.

~ ~ ~

speed bus

I used to take the bus everyday to school (because parking at the university sucks) and saw a lot of weird instances and people on my daily trips. This man and his little dog were a pair I saw and they stuck with me so much I just had to write about them. I couldn’t get them off my mind. What came about was this piece before you.

benedict cumberpatch

Song of the day:

Switch Lanes- Tyga 

Jabaja (everything and nothing)

everything and nothing

I want everything and nothing, all at once,

gluttonyTo swirl around me in a fury of colours.

I’ll be known as gluttony,

Disgusting as I may be,

Engrossing myself

And consuming all.



I want to dance on the sun

To hold the entirety of the universe in my hands

Hot tears to streak down my face like acid

To become music.

I want the sun to burst inside of me

The sweetest candy to pucker my soft lips


My hummingbird to beat its wings against my ribcage

The wind to run its rough hands through my hair

To scream until my voice runs away.



I want silence to ring through my ears

To let my body to be swallowed by thick moss

To see utter darkness in the daytime

To lie down and sleep forever.

I want the devil to take my soul

My shadow to become eraser shavings

My reflection to wave goodbye

I want birds to take my eyes,

Fire to take my toucheverything is nothing

Acid to take my tongue

Dumbo to take my ears

And dad to take my nose

So I can become a vegetable

And assume the persona of nothing.


~ ~ ~

Song of the day:

You don’t own me – Lesley Gore  

nacho libre