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Her half naked body glistens in the sunlight,

Skin tempting and glorious,

Her eyes untethered by the stars,

Hair moving to the slightest of wind,

She must know the power she seems to hold,

Her lips look bored of the lust filled eyes,

She rolls her eyes at the fleeting crowd around her,

Her body warm to just look at but you can tell her heart isn’t the same,

Her legs strutting away from anyone who does not respect her,

Her hands biding them goodbye while being least bothered by the curses thrown at her,

She seems evil and careless,

It looks like her natural place of comfort,

To be distant and unnervingly calm,

Discomfort and tension fill the person trying to hold her attention,

Drifting between places she seems detached,

Her fingers dancing through the bills she strains to make,

Worlds apart are the ones who approach her and the one she lives in,

Uninterested in meddling with others business,

Cruel to those who tell her how to run hers,

She was a woman of her own,

But her thoughts and feelings pushed to the deepest void,

No one brave enough to venture,

None fit to escape the treachery such as her calm rage,

A woman who smiles only when she knows shes shut a persons system completely down,

The one who holds power with the weights of it so nonchalantly.

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As promised here is the filled out version of the character sheet. I know it has been a whole day later but here it is.

“Extremely detailed character sheet template”

Character Chart

Character’s full name: Benjamin Rose Steven Rodgers

Reason or meaning of name: “Benjamin” was his grandfathers name (on his fathers side) “Rose” was his grandmothers name (on his mother’s side) and because his last name is Rodgers the family wanted to put Steven in there somewhere because of Captain America.

Character’s nickname: Captain America.

Reason for nickname: He was in the military and because of last name and rank of Captain he was dubbed “Captain America”

Birth date: November 30th 2030

Physical appearance

Age: He is 29 at the beginning of my book.

How old does he/she appear: 25ish-ish

Weight: 265

Height: 6 foot 3

Body build: very muscular.

Shape of face: I don’t know, think Steven Amell-ish

Eye color: blue

Glasses or contacts: neither.

Skin tone: kinda light but tans well. Think Alycia debnam Carey

Distinguishing marks: I don’t remember any right now.

Predominant features: I don’t know what this means.

Hair color: brown

Type of hair: I don’t know, very over grown and long. you would have to read the book to understand why.

Hairstyle: I don’t know, very over grown and long. you would have to read the book to understand why.

Voice: kinda deep but not like James earl jones. Again think Steven Amell

Overall attractiveness: Again think Steven Amell mixed with Chris Evans and a little bit of grant gustin? I don’t know that’s what I see when I picture him anyway.

Physical disabilities: can’t draw, afraid of heights, overly sarcastic, bad luck, gets injured a lot, kinda clumsy.

Usual fashion of dress: prison clothes for now.

Favorite outfit: pajamas.

Jewelry or accessories: watch, AR-15, shotgun, .45 ACP, 9mm, m4 carbine, and Kevin.


Good personality traits: loyal, stubborn, fight till last dying breath, survivor, sarcastic, funny, a leader, wise, adapts well, a good friend, trusting, trustworthy, and Macgyver like.

Bad personality traits: stubborn, sarcastic, trusting, puts himself into danger to often, not cautious enough, unlucky, clumsy, self deprecating, impatient,

Mood character is most often in: sarcastic anger and story telling indifference.

Sense of humor: sarcastic, self deprecating, light hearted.

Character’s greatest joy in life: Kevin.

Character’s greatest fear: Heights.

Why? Because heights are freaking scary man, that’s why.

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil?

There are a lot of different things that could happen that could do that. But I can’t say any of them without spoiling the book.

Character is most at ease when: petting Kevin while reading him a book.

Most ill at ease when: when Kevin takes to long to come back from his outings.

Enraged when: a crop dies or an earthquake happens.

Depressed or sad when: one of the birds dies or When thinking about everything that has happened to him.

Priorities: escape

Life philosophy: survival and petting Kevin (which was a new addition)

If granted one wish, it would be: freedom from where he is

Why? Because he doesn’t like it there

Character’s soft spot: Kevin or an old friend from the Army named Flash.

Is this soft spot obvious to others? If it’s Kevin than no because there are no others. If it’s Flash than yes it’s very obvious.

Greatest strength: his gun abilities.

Greatest vulnerability or weakness: heights.

Biggest regret: going to prison

Minor regret: not asking some questions of Certain people.

Biggest accomplishment: Winning the Medal of Honor/silver star/Purple Heart.

Minor accomplishment: Saving America

Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: none that I have put into the book or can think of.

Why? Because I can’t think of any.

Character’s darkest secret: I can’t tell you that.

Does anyone else know? Not even me.

Just kidding, but no, literally no one on planet earth knows but me.


Drives and motivations: survival

Immediate goals: getting out of there.

Long term goals: finding out what happened then finding Jimmy and getting revenge.

How the character plans to accomplish these goals: by blowing stuff to smithereens and walking out and then hunting him down and shooting him in the face.

How other characters will be affected: they will also be shot in the face.


Hometown: Denver Nebraska USA

Type of childhood: Nice? I don’t know what the question wants from me.

Pets: one golden retriever when he was six but it died when he was 13.

First memory: going to court with his father

Most important childhood memory: his parents dying when he was 14

Why: because his parents died when he was 14

Childhood hero: his “uncle” Greg

Dream job: Army soldier

Education: high school

Religion: Christian

Finances: very good.


Current location: undisclosed location in in the USA

Currently living with: Kevin

Pets: several birds

Religion: Christian

Occupation: none

Finances: none


Mother: dead

Relationship with her: none but before she died it was very good

Father: dead

Relationship with him: none but before he died it was very good

Siblings: none

Relationship with them: none

Spouse: none

Relationship with him/her: none

Children: none

Relationship with them: none

Other important family members: none


Color: blue

Least favorite color: yellow

Music: Dan+Shay

Food: Chicken Alfredo, fried chicken, steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, cheddar and broccoli soup are his favorite foods.

Literature: anything by Jules Verne or Kodi Griffin

Form of entertainment: reading

Expressions: “We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it” or when asked how things are done or how he did that he replies “fermentation”

Mode of transportation: truck or walking

Most prized possession: Kevin or AR-15


Hobbies: working out, reading, meditating, listening to music, and writing in a journal.

Plays a musical instrument? The drums but that was a long time ago.

Plays a sport? American football back in high school.

How he/she would spend a rainy day: playing in the rain or on his bed reading with Kevin.

Spending habits: none anymore.

Smokes: absolutely not.

Drinks: occasionally but not really.

Other drugs: absolutely not.

What does he/she do too much of? Danger, working out, and reading.

What does he/she do too little of? Safety

Extremely skilled at: shooting, fighting, blowing things up, surviving, getting hurt, and petting Kevin.

Extremely unskilled at: doing nothing, waiting, art, and cooking.

Nervous tics: sarcasm and biting nails.

Usual body posture: that of a soldier but sometimes a teenager.

Mannerisms: Not really sure.

Peculiarities: I don’t know.


Optimist or pessimist? A realist which I guess means he leans more on the pessimist side

Introvert or extrovert? An introverted extrovert?

Daredevil or cautious? Daredevil

Logical or emotional? Logical

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? Methodical and neath

Prefers working or relaxing? Working

Confident or unsure of himself/herself? Confident

Animal lover? Yes siree


How he/she feels about himself/herself: wants himself to live confident about his looks and doesn’t care what people think about him or his looks.

One word the character would use to describe self: fighter

One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: “A survivor until the bitter end. A fighter for freedom, peace, justice, and the American way. And if all else fails kill everything I see and be the last one standing.”

What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? His sense of humor

What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait? Judge of character.

What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic? Eyebrows

What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? Hands

How does the character think others perceive him/her: He doesn’t care about what others think of him because he is his own man and his own self worth is what truly matters.

What would the character most like to change about himself/herself: the way he approaches certain things

Relationships with others

Opinion of other people in general: doesn’t like them all that much. yes people are needed but most of them he don’t care for

Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others? Yes

Person character most hates: jimmy

Best friend(s): Flash and Kevin

Love interest(s): none, at any point in my book

Person character goes to for advice: none maybe Kevin

Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: Kevin

Person character feels shy or awkward around: none

Person character openly admires: Kevin

Person character secretly admires: Kevin

Most important person in character’s life before story starts: Flash

After story starts: Kevin

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‘I missed you,’ he said while looking through her eyes. He knew at the slightest glimpse of her gesture that there is something wrong. -that everything falls apart. He don’t want to admit it. ‘After all this time, love,what happened to us?’ he added. ‘Im- there was a long silence. Then words spill through her mouth, ‘I’m tired,’ she replied while avoiding his eyes. ‘You don’t get tired on someone you love,’ he replied.That’s when he realized he already knew the answer.

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Veins filled with agony screams for you in every part of my body and soul. The sweet hums plays as we are lost in our conversations. Lost in each other. Making our way deeper unveiling shrouds of vulnerablility. Words from your soul echos deep in me. Stirring intense emotions. Nourishing me with blood red passion. This passion is addictive. Leaving me yearning for you. I seek out to reach you.

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It’s a Wednesday morning, the air is cool and humid and I haven’t been to bed since Tuesday morning. The fever is gone, the diarrhea is gone, and now it’s just me. My leg has been bouncing since I got to the dorms in the evening. I keep thinking of that stupid orange bottle in my drawer, just at my right foot. I can feel the smoothness of the paper on the plastic tube. I can hear the clicking and clacking of the pills jarring against each other. The feeling of the plastic lid popping off with that airy, wispy sound. I can feel that chalky, acrid taste hit my tongue, the one that used to make me gag when I was a child.

I can almost remember Sunday night, Monday morning. The feeling of warmness, how abstract the idea of pain had become. I almost felt new, like whatever filth that lingered on my body and in my hair, just washed off. Like I had become that once pure little girl, dancing to whatever music she could find or hear. That girl who would devour books and go through crayons like she’d never run out of pages to color on. I remember the feeling of safety and security, curled up on my bed, wrapped around a pillow. I felt like I was floating, just in a constant state of the feelings of my kid self. When my eyes popped open, I felt disappointed. The feeling of filth came rushing to my senses. I knew, that after those warm feelings, my body would turn on me, punish me for this. I walked into the bathroom, starting the shower, feeling dizzy. Getting myself to class would be more like an out of body experience, like the translation of some supplies to a faraway land. I couldn’t remember what I needed to do that day like my whole world just reset, or was it a forced shut down? I don’t know, I’m not a computer, a computer wouldn’t know what to do with a painkiller.

I sat on the toilet afterward, I held my face in my hands. I wanted to tell someone, I wanted to yell at my aunt, my brother, my sister, their partners, I wanted them to know that I’m being pulled apart. But I’m always the one who’s scared of everything, the one who makes a mountain out of a molehill. Once, I went to the clinic because of this lump that appeared on my shin. It was plushy, everything around it was hard. I worried it might’ve been something serious, so I asked my aunt to take me. She kept telling me it was just a simple fatty deposit, she had a few of those on her own leg. But I was adamant about going to the clinic, hoping to get some clarification. In the end, my aunt was right. On the way home, she would only give me nothing but one-word responses or just noises. She didn’t even look at me. When I asked if she was mad, all she said was that she was thinking about supper. My family speaks in silence. How do I get out of this? How do I have a conversation about this? How do I exhibit more disappointing behavior to people who are already beyond disappointed? What if I just said what I needed to say? Just have a long, eight-page letter about my growing dependence on my painkillers. How it makes me so sick I can’t even concentrate in class after the weekend passes. How the cravings keep me up at all hours of the night, the morning, and the day. But if I know it’s a problem, why don’t I just stop? Why do I need anyone to know? What if this just makes me feel more like an outsider? Even now, here at school, it feels like my life is dominated by questions I can’t really answer without worrying anyone. Maybe the love that drives the disappointment, the worry, and the anger is what’s really important. Maybe in all those disappointed sighs, rolling eyes, and everything else, is the support I’m longing for. Maybe when I’m ignored, maybe when they give me silence, maybe that’s the connection I want. Or maybe I’m just trying to justify shitty behavior. Maybe I’m just emotional and it doesn’t call for this interrogation. I feel so alone.

When I got out of the bathroom, my shoulders started to ache. I put on pants, a shirt, a sweater, but when I went to put on shoes the stiffness made it’s way to my knees. I had dropped myself back into the chair, the creaking echoed in my room and out into the bathroom. My face crumpled, trying to hold in any sort of sound that could escape my lips. I rubbed and I rubbed, but the dull ache wouldn’t budge. I put my shoes on carefully, packed up my bag, and went on my way to the school. As I left the dormitory, my neck started to ache, the space between my shoulder blades started to stiffen up. I think I took too much.

I could feel the room get colder, my chest felt like it was freezing. I scratched the side of my head and saw my fingers were wet. I was sweating. Soon enough, everything sounded like an empty auditorium, just reverbed voices, and computer noises. I put my head onto the table, relieving some pressure on my neck. Finally, nausea came, my stomach felt like it was swirling. The room was freezing. I looked up, seeing everyone stare at the projector, everything looked like it was shaking. I got up in a hurry, barging into the hallway, walking earnestly around the corner into the bathroom. I ran into the open handicap stall, everything I ate last night came up. My face felt an insurmountable pressure, my throat stung as the bile and chunks of a microwavable Salsbury Steak poured into the toilet bowl. I sat back on the wall, in the dim stall. My fever started to ebb, but my stomach still felt slushy. I sat there, wishing for this to be over, I didn’t want to lie to my instructor again for another Monday.

My stomach started to wring itself out, the ache was unbearable, I got up and sat down on the toilet. Trying to relieve pressure, I leaned forward, only for my abdominal muscles to constrict. I shot back up, gasping, pressing my back into the toilet, my stomach didn’t hurt all that much at that point. It wasn’t gone for long, as I sat back, my stomach poured itself out into the toilet. I felt like I was burning up, from my stomach and from my backside. I put my hands on the walls beside the toilet, trying to hold myself up as my stomach ached from the inside out.

After getting myself cleaned up, I saw that I had only been absent for fifteen minutes, I wouldn’t have to answer so many questions this time. I walked into the hall and everything started to turn and my head felt hollowed out. The dizziness. I hugged the wall to get back to the classroom, jumping to the opposite side where the door was. I stood out of the way of the window in the door, trying to shield myself from the potential stares that I could attract. I took a few deep breaths, then I did my best impression of someone who isn’t dizzy. My foot dragged when I tried stepping in, I know I said an expletive because everyone looked away from the projector and at me. I used my other foot to pull myself into the room, I still ate shit and dropped to my knees, but I wouldn’t have to keep walking. My chair was right there, I lifted myself into it. My laptop on the table was spinning and resetting, spinning and resetting, spinning and resetting. Someone spoke to me while I watched my laptop spin and reset.

“You okay?” A person with a light concerned voice next to me said. I looked at them, I could see short white hair but I couldn’t focus on their face.

“Hi.” I said, I could hear everyone suppress their laughter. The white-haired person next to me giggled, I let out a light chuckle, too.

“Amber, do I have to call someone? Are you alright?” My instructor asked. At least this time had some humor to it.

“No, I’m okay, I just didn’t get much sleep last night.” I lied, my eyes felt pristine and unbothered (unlike right now). My body still ached, but it was much duller now.

After class, I went next door to get ready for the next one. The room was dark, lit up only by the window that overlooked the main hall. I opened my computer up, going to the Salient Design Cooperative to listen to the “The Salient Podcast”. A new episode was up, “I Miss Calling My Teacher TEACH”. I got my headphones out of my bag, but then I saw a green bottle levitate over my computer. I look up to see that person from earlier who asked if I was alright, I could see their face more clearly now. They were pretty.

I took the bottle from their hand, “Thank you.” I say, as politely as I can muster.

“You seemed out of it earlier, you okay now?” They ask, their face filled with concern.

“I’m fine, thank you, I’m just tired.” I chuckled at the end of the sentence, “Why a soda? You didn’t have to do this.”

“Uh, yeah I—” they looked behind me at the wall for a second or so, “I can’t think of any excuse other than it made approaching you easier.” She chuckled, though it was a bit awkward. (I’m just gonna call her a her until I get confirmation, she’s very masculine but also very feminine and I don’t know what to do, but she has girl hips so…)

“Do I have a resting bitch face?” I asked. The reality is though I’m just dealing with withdrawal most of the time.

“Yeah kinda.” She nods. I almost want to tell her what actually happens, but then I’d be that girl who overshares everything with people she just meets. I may actually just have a resting bitch face.

“Why didn’t you say before?” I say. My voice was small but kinda whiny, I put my hands on my cheeks, kneading the plushy deposits.

“You don’t just tell people they have a resting bitch face.” She says, her voice is kinda incredulous. I read that word somewhere and liked it.

“Why not? It’d be kinda fun watching people tell you to fuck off.” I said.

“Is that a hint?” She asked, squinting her eyes at me.

“I mean you don’t just tell people to fuck off.” I say with a shit-eating smile on my face, the bottle hisses and cracks as I take the cap off.

Her eyebrows raise to the roof and holds her hands up, “Alright, alright, I’m going—”

“I’m kidding, sit down!” I said.

To be honest, I’m not sure where this entry is going, I just started thinking about Monday. Monday was so weird, from dealing with heavy withdrawal symptoms that don’t cripple me, to making a friend. I guess I’m just trying to translate it into something cohesive. It’s also really helping with my cravings right now, I don’t feel so stir-crazy. A week ago I did it with painting, this week I’m doing it with writing. I guess I can add some color to that painting I did, now that design and painting aren’t the only things in my life. I can add a splash of color to it now, to account for Jude. Oh and her name is Jude, we had a lot of get to know you date questions.

“So, where do you come from?” She said as she sat down across from me.

“I’m from here, this city.” I say, though in all honesty, this city is quite small, it’s mostly just five Burger King’s and eight McDonald’s with three Wendy’s. “If you can call it a city.”

“Lot of fast food joints…” She stops to nod her head, “There’s like eight shopping centers that are just a Walmart and fast food joints.”

“Where are you from?” I asked, but then I got to thinking of a more important question. “Actually, what’s your name?”

“Jude and I’m from Lincoln.” She says.

“Oh, my sister lives in Lincoln.” I reply, at this point, I’m a feeling a little awkward since I just blind-sided her with the ‘where are you from’ question.

“That’s cool does she like it—”

“Yeah there’s a lot of fast food pla—”

We both stop to say 'Hmm?’ Then I handwave her to continue, but she does the same at the same time as me. A long silence stretched over us, we sat there smiling at each other, expectantly. The silence grows bigger and my stomach coils into my chest, I know I have always been awkward, but this awkward?

“I really like Mountain Dew, thank you.” I said, breaking the silence but my stomach pulls itself into a knot.

“Yeah, no problem,” she paused, probably regretting spending the money on me at this point, “so which is your favorite Burger King?”

I can’t help but giggle the knot out of my stomach, Jude joins in the laughter.

I really don’t want to continue writing this, it’s so awkward it makes me want to die. The fact that I could die tomorrow and my family and friends will read this will make me want to die again.


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TMW you wake up at 6 am even though you could sleep in running on 4.5 hours of sleep and just start outlining a fantasy trilogy and research mythologies and shit for 2 fucking hours.

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“I wonder sometimes, do you ever think of me and where I might be? Miss the stories we shared or the symphonies we sang? I guess what I’m wondering is, do you miss us like I do? Or did you forget us the day you walked away.”


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Why must I feel this?

I know that I shouldn’t.

It feels wrong and it is overpowering me.

If only I saw you more casually,

like how you see me.

Or, if only you saw me the way I see you.

But that’s not the case.

And I despise myself for it.

These invading thoughts are wrong but

they still come and they still pierce.

Thoughts of my own inadequacy.

A rushing tide of insecurity

flooding past the walls

of what I know is right.

They make me wonder,

why can’t it be me?

What’s so wrong with me?

These questions fester under

unreturned feelings of affection.

I should move on.

I need to move on.

To stop fixating on what can’t be.

But, I wallow.

I wallow in a false hope

that maybe these feelings will

be reciprocated.

Even though I know they never will be.

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The Lost Castle

It’s like the spectrum

of the event horizon

cross the red shift

of my heart.

It’s a descent,

like no other;

one where my blood -

pounds at the ventricles,

and where all of my fibers

come to stop

at the sight of you.

It’s in my dreams,

the cradle and seams;

it’s a comfort to know

my eyes set on you

are familiar atoms

covalent bonds

of all of me,

particles-apart from you,

is all I needed

to finish my next breath.

Photons break into a million neutrinos,

they envelope my Earth

and my soul,

you’re the princess

in my lost castle,

I search for you in eons -

epochal tidal drifts

upon my weathered skin,

just to ask for your kin

with nothing to lose,

but everything to gain.

I’ll draw a thousand and one memories,

fall to my sleep

in the afterlife,

make an apocalypse of it all

just to lay eyes

on you again -

and again.

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I’m starting to write a story. Here’s the first chapter…

I am sick.

Not the ’dying’ kind of sick…

Not the visible kind of way either. You know, the bloodshot eyes, bald head, losing weight kind of sick. It’s more of the emotional kind. The losing interest in everything, overthinking simple conversations, feeling like looking from the outside all the time kind. Do you know it? I hope you never do… Because. It. Sucks.

However now is one of the good times. I am still feeling out of place most of the time, but I’m always present, body and mind. I’m still overthinking, but not to the point where it shows on the outside…

Anyways, that’s all I have going on about me. Oh, and that I’m studying creative writing at the local university. I’ve met a lot of people here, but I don’t think anyone notices my existence, so yeah… At least I thought no one did until today. Today at my Creative Writing class we got assigned a project. We have to find the Undiscovered places of our town. I don’t know how that’ll help us with our writing, but it sounds like fun. Except for the part where it is a project in pairs. At least I don’t have to worry if someone will work with me because Skye Gray volunteeres to work with me on this project almost immediately. She’s a girl I’ve talked to a couple of times, but never more than five minutes. ’Should I take it as a sign? Does this mean she probably likes me? Why would she? Where would we go??? Now… Don’t freak out, don’t freak out… Don’t. Freak. Out! Breathe! In… Out… In… Out… Calm down, think of calm stuff… A pond, water In… lilies, a duck… Out… Shut up, brain! In… There are five rows of desks in this room. There are sixteen students. There are Out… four, no… Six! potted plants…

After I’ve calmed myself down I go back to reality. She’s already sitting next to me. I start a conversation:

“Hey, you! Why did you chose me?” ’How does my voice sound so normal? Why am I all anxious here inside and not out there?!?’ She startles a bit and then smiles.

“Well, you were the only person here who I’ve talked to before, so… yeah” she shrugs. “If you wanted someone else we still cou…”

“Oh, no! I’m happy you’re my partner. I don’t want anyone else!” I declare with a goofy smile, which I hope she sees as the joke it is, and not as flirting because I don’t want her to think I’m creepy.

She just chuckles. That’s a good sign, or so I’ve heard. The professor says we have the last 20 minutes of the lecture to figure out our ‘game plan’. One would expect a more beautified language from a person teaching creative writing, I think, but he’s cool. One of those teachers you’d go drink a beer with… A voice pulls me out of my thoughts…

“So what do you think of the assignment?”

“It’s a weird task, alright. I don’t even know where to begin, any ideas?” I ask her.

“How about we make a list of weird or cute, or just nice places we’ve found around town and just start visiting them?”

That’s a good way to start, why didn’t I think of it… At least I have a nice partner. But now I freak out (internally) again! ’What if the places I suggest are boring, what if she just hates them?!? What if she thinks I’m a weirdo? No! I won’t worry about that! Who cares, it’s just a stupid project… Ah! Ive got it! How about…’

“First thing that comes to mind is a bench…”

“A bench?” She is intrigued.

“Yep, there’s this bench on the Old River. It’s actually IN the Old River to be more accurate…” There is a river running through town. At one point a century ago someone decided it was making way too many turns, so they dug up a canal, that goes in a straight line through the town, called the New River, where all the boats go, and the Old River which is now very slow and shallow has a park around it, so it’s a favourite place for many people to go for a picnick. But this one bench is, as far as I know, a place only I know about. “Only it’s legs are underwater, so you could sit on it if you keep your feet up. It’s in a little dark corner, exactly under a willow tree. So it is visible only in winter. But in winter barely anyone goes there, so I think only I know it…”

“Wow, sounds like a nice place! Are you sure you want to take me there? This way, it won’t be just your place anymore…” Okay, this girl is actually a really nice person. I like that.

'Of course I do! I’ve always wanted to bring a girl there!’ is what I want to say. But that sounds creepy, so I go with:

“It’s fine, it’s not something that special” while looking the other way, trying to look as relaxed as I can.

“In that case, let’s go there after this!” She actually sounds excited.

“Okay, Skye”

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Music softly lulling in the background

Blue light streaming from the fish tank

Bodies lying on couches

and the giggling of a child

whoosh goes the wind 

and pitter patter goes the rain

A dark house and a warm feeling

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“People always ask how he broke me. I mean, he was my best friend. I never I thought I’d never have to say goodbye. Then that day came. It blindsided me. That day broke something in me. I never got that piece of myself back, so yeah. He hurt me, and I’ll never forgive him. But he’ll always be my best friend.”


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i tried my best to provide you with what you needed when no one could. i understood you when no one couldn’t. i was there for you when you were vulnerable and no one would dare to come near you. i gave you time to vent when you needed it and i was waiting for you for hours. i was there in your darkest times.

but now, when i need those things, you can’t be there? why can’t you provide me with what i need? why can’t you understand me, when no one dared to? why aren’t you beside me when i’m lost? why can’t you wait for me, just like how i waited for you? why aren’t you here with me when i am slowly being eaten away by the darkness that’s been waiting for me?

— cerealpopper

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One Day Productive

“Alhamdulillah besok Sabtu kuliah libur, malam takbiran bisa quality time sama keluarga” batinku.

Selang dua menit ponselku berdering menampilkan ID Amahe, ibu nyai pondok pesantrenku dulu. Tanpa menunggu lama langsung saja kusentuh tombol berwarna hijau.

“Halo, Mah, assalamu'alaikum” ucapku.

“Wa'alaikumsalam. Mbak, besok Sabtu maring pondok, nggih!” terdengar suara amahe di ujung sana.

“Oh, nggih, Mah”

“Malem takbiran nginep teng ndalem mawon, sesok lebaran teng pondok ngancani Amahe”

“Nggih, Mah, insyaAllah”

Gagal sudah niatku untuk bersantai-santai. Mari reschedule jadwalku besok! Besok hari Sabtu akan kuhabiskan waktu bersama Amahe membuat berbagai macam camilan basah.

Ah, quality time bersama Amahe juga tidak terlalu buruk. Aku akan diajarkan bagaimana memasak opor, membuat rolade, pastel, weku, dan berbagai jenis kue lainnya yang bahkan aku lupa namanya. Aku yakin, besok Amahe pasti punya beberapa resep baru yang ingin dicoba.


Langit Semesta Berirama, 27 Mei 2020 | 21.42

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