Narritive

[Turia]

Maybe there was a time I could have been something. Even now, I look at the whites of my fingernails and think, some part of me is still trying to live. It’s ironic we can’t feel our fingernails growing, is’t it? And yet, there they are. Day after day, reminding us of the times past that we never, or I never, seem to recognize.

Another narrative. This should be fun. Everyone in the world already knows how ****ty the world is! And the more this narrative (is that even the right word) promotes a dissociative cultural thinking, the worse it would be for society. Right?

It is right. When I was younger I was a big fish in a small pond, and I never understood the people around me. This is so easy! There is so much potential! I would yell out a little. on the inside every day.

Then the internet happened. That was a trip. Suddenly it felt like, the whole world understood the things I did. I was a similar fish swimming in a new pond with similar people. How radiant, and comfortable.

It was as if I sat on the ocean floor, and the bubbles were not only my music, but breath.

Such a beautiful world to encounter. But, as time, is the ultimate *****…Seriously, it seems that when life is against you, time is on your side, and when life is comfortable, peaceful…it’s only a matter of time....

It was a beautiful world to encounter. But as all things, life carried on and suddenly, I wanted to talk about those things with the people who transcended barriers. And somehow, I turned into that barrier.

Was I like a star? Or something attempting to travel the speed of light, only to grow heavy under the weight of its own existence? Or was it all an illusion?

Am I saying these things now, just to retain momentum?

Blog post or story?

Perhaps both. In which case do we chose one over the other?

[YesNo]

I didn't understand what you were trying to say. A blog post could be a story.

[Danik 2016]

You write well, Turia. I mean you are able to give a verbal form even to what´s not so clear to you yet. Maybe you should start by listening more to yourself.

[Turia]

I didn't understand what you were trying to say. A blog post could be a story.

It's not about the blog post or the story, it's about where two worlds collide. I think...


You write well, Turia. I mean you are able to give a verbal form even to what´s not so clear to you yet. Maybe you should start by listening more to yourself.

Thanks, and sound advice. That's why I'm attempting to find a creative outlet. I'm not a strong writer (or writer at all), but I'm playing around with it as a hobby to gain exactly that. It's not that I don't understand the world around me. It's that sometimes I understand the world and can't express it. Or express the world but can't understand it.

So I get super drunk and write, then read the next day asking myself..."What was I trying to say?"....

[Turia]

Oh and this was the post from the last thread...I think.
She looked at the floor and in one second she thought she saw him, but he wasn’t there. Just a pile of his favorite blanket on the floor and bag of his favorite chips. On the couch beside her, the school papers had lost their balance. One hung over the arm of the couch and another on the floor.

They had been talking about his first day of school, and figuring out the homework assignments when it came. The alarm bell, this wasn’t a test.

It’s nothing, she told the boy, crouched down on one leg. You really think if we were in danger, they would just tie a caution tape to our mail box?

“It’s not jet that, they’ve had police driving up and down all day.”

“If you don’t leave apparently you’re put in some database where you refused to leave.”

“Like a mandatory cease and assist?”

“No, you just need to go. The neighbors all left. I’ll probably go by my family, and she’s probably going to go somewhere else.”

She walked in as the shifts were changing, an hour after she walked in. She took one look at the woman and started crying her eyes out. A well spring that wouldn’t stop, until she was too exhausted, or maybe too dehydrated, to do anything else. Instead she looked at the wall.

“The doctor will be out in just one second,” she kept saying. She could heard the talk around her as she just stared at the wall. The nurse had come out, once to offer her tissues, another to offer her to go back into the office. But, Claire politely declined. I’m fine here until the doctor can see me….And she continued to stare at the wall, and cried.

“You see, it’s just that we have this pregnant girl right now, and she is having contractions. If you could wait one more minute…”

She sat in the corner, never looking up, and reminded the events of the night. Another girl arrived, She was pissed off. “You tried to have me committed! Hahah, but you didn’t know I was 21??! Did you?!?!?”

The nurses were very kind to her. Another man entered, not sure what his issue was as she never looked up, but she knew he was sleeping at one point on the other side of the room.

She sat looking at the corner. “I’m scared, mum!” “I promise you, I will never let anything happen to you, just please trust me.” “I’m scared and we have to leave, everyone is saying it!….Can I call my dad?”

“Sure, lets call him…” The phone rings until voicemail, “He didn’t answer.” “Try again!!!! I’ll text him!”

She calls again, “Hey.” “Hey, our son is really scared right now, and he would feel safer with you. Can you pick him up?”

“I thought as much, I’ll be there in an hour.”

His son was thrilled by the news, “Mum, promise me you’ll be safe, are you leaving too?!?!!?”

“I promise”

She sat in the room, waiting and waiting, after all she had a promise to fulfill. That she would not spend the night in that house, she had no where see to go.

She sat there..For hours….

Until finally she decided living life was a faster death than anything this place had to offer. She walked out and went home to wallow literally in the ashes.

[Danik 2016]

It's not about the blog post or the story, it's about where two worlds collide. I think...



Thanks, and sound advice. That's why I'm attempting to find a creative outlet. I'm not a strong writer (or writer at all), but I'm playing around with it as a hobby to gain exactly that. It's not that I don't understand the world around me. It's that sometimes I understand the world and can't express it. Or express the world but can't understand it.

So I get super drunk and write, then read the next day asking myself..."What was I trying to say?"....

Again. I think you express yourself very well, when you try to. Only you seem to be very self critical. Have you tried writing when you are sober?
I am glad you recovered this story.

[Turia]

Actually, I haven't. Maybe I'll try tomorrow.

Here is what I wrote tonight.

They passed the landmark for the third time.

“What is wrong with you!?”

“”What?”

“You have no idea where we are going!”

“I know exactly where we are going, look here is the tree.”

She kicks a puppy, in her mind. “You said that the last two times we came to this tree! You’re lost!”

“I’m not lost, this is the tree. We just need to head in this direction…” He pointed with absolute resolve.

“You know what? You’re crazy. I’m done walking in circles!” She slipped her shoes off and carried them as she stormed away toward the highest mountain she could find.

He sighed, but only for a moment. Picked up his backpack, and looked at his compass. He threw the compass, grunting, and began to walk. She walked tirelessly to to road that surly laid upon the hill. Stopping only to rest a few moments due to the oddly beating sun in a forest of trees. It was hot, and she was running out of water.

“Let’s go for a hike they said, it will be romantic they said…” she thought as she put her items away and mounted what was left of her supplies on her back. She continued to walk uphill, determined to get to the road before dark.

“Jesus, that girl is a *****. I can’t believe I thought she may be the one. Probably is a slut and has like 5 guys catering to her whim. I bet she slept with all of them, and even a few more. Go ahead, Miss Entitled!! Find your way to the road!”

He only let the thought give him momentum as he continued to walk the apparently same path he had before. She was now clawing her way up a particularly steep hill, and he happened upon the tree again.

In one instance. And this is no lie. In one flash of a second, just as she reached the road, he disappeared from under the tree he had found three times. Simultaneous.

Not that either of them knew it at the time.

[Turia]

I forgot to try to write today. Maybe tomorrow. I'll set a reminder.