why the hate?

she paces back and forth with her fingers tangled in her hair. one moment she wants to pull as hard as she can because she doesn't know what else to do. the next moment her palms are cradling her throbbing head. the feeling of hate just won't go away.

it all started when he came into work. his "i'm always mellow" façade fooled even her, until she disagreed with him.

"We can easily do it this way..." she started to suggest.

"NO. We're doing it my way," he grumbled on the phone.

Not used to hearing such tone from her managers, she agreed for that moment. But why was he so mean all of a sudden?

'That was the beginning' she thought. Now she had to sit down. Her stomach was starting to rumble and she didn't feel well. Before she lost her footing, she made it to the couch and lied down.

"Deep breaths.... just breathe and let it go."

Her passion for living was so great it intensified feelings toward others. In love, this was incredible for her partners but for her enemies, it was a burden you wouldn't wish on anyone. Once someone showed a sign of irrationality due to power given, it was hard for her to take that person seriously and her rebellious nature to prove she is right comes out.

Which is what got her in trouble the week before. Some unusual activity started up at work that kept her busy for quite some time. As always happens when she's bombarded with requests, he comes over to ask generic questions expecting very specific answers. She let him know she'd look into the issue as soon as she can.

When she didn't get back to him in a reasonable matter of time, he began to slam her with emails asking for status updates and other requests. On a dare of her own conscience, she shoot back an email telling him she'd email him when she was ready. Then she prepared for the tone of voice, the disapproval and the condescending attitude. She could take yelling and insults, but having some idiot with a high ranking title talk down to her was unacceptable. She'd have an attitude all her own.

She was wrong, perhaps sinking to his level, but what right did he have to treat her this way? It wasn't as if he didn't treat others this way. She's heard people in his office disagree and the tone would come out. If only she had the wisdom to fight him with intelligence and not emotion. This was just too close to her pride and she couldn't let it go.

"i want..." the tears are streaming down her face now, her head buried in one arm. "i want to let it go. i don't want to let this get the best of me. I know i'm the stronger one, but i have to learn to let this go... i have to let the hate go before it destroys me."

freewrite - letter found in a bottle on the east coast

feelings are like waves. they make you sway back and forth, choosing one side of a decision in happiness and another in anger. Sadness breaks your heart as you discover yet another path... maybe that's another reason Buddhists suggest making yourself into an island. no matter how hard the waves pound back and forth, you're still an island.

i'm stuck on a boogie board in those waves. they are taking me in one direction one day while i try my best to paddle away from the current. am i foolish to go against the grain? it's always taken me to my goals before. why is it so difficult to do it at this time? perhaps because the feelings are so much stronger now. so much more...

there's never a time for a clear head or a safe assumption. everything must be weighed and counted. i won't let the waves drag me under. i'm still afloat. i can be that island and that is where i intend to stay.

free write - realization

blah... don't like my writing tonight. i just want to paint a picture of someone in the shower. the walls are dripping with condensation as the hot water runs. drop after steamy drop splashes against her forehead and cools as it runs down her cheeks. this time is her time. she turns around to let the water hit her back - the heat and constant pattering massage her tense shoulder and neck muscles. without thinking, she smiles.

how easy it is for her now to look back to see how foolish she was. he couldn't use her anymore. his flowery words told her she was the only one to help him. she could see now he only meant to use her up until she had nothing left. it almost happened, but she got away.

the water burst a bit more as she turned the knob. somehow tonight the water couldn't get hot enough. she thought about the call he made earlier that day. she didn't pick up, she didn't dare. he never cared what she might have been doing, so long as he could get in touch with her. not leaving a voicemail also made it easy to bear. this was one chapter she wanted to close and never revisit.

it was amazing how she could see it all now. especially how she could put it beyond and not cater to his needs... even if he really did need her, it wasn't her job any longer.

write or die - the past

1000

32

lab.drwicked.com

okay well here we go. i can't believe how much i've wanted to write recently. i was so afraid i'd lost my ambition, but i thought if i wrote every day, that would get the juices flowing again.

yesterday i wrote about a red door. today, who knows what i'll write about. hopefully it won't just be blogging... right, here we go.

eyes closed, she listened to the whisper of the drapes. a warm breeze swayed them back and forth over the radiator. it was hot in the room, how she hated the stuffy room. flowers surrounded her bed like a funeral parlor. well didn't they want her dead soon anyway? it didn't matter. it wasn't their consistent bothering that made her worry.

all her life she struggled to make sure everyone around her was comfortable. if money was low or bills had to be paid, she gave up her own bills to make sure everything worked out. she didn't want to see others suffer. she knew that beyond all else, she could take on the burden of their suffering - she was strong enough.

what worried her now was her leaving this world. her brothers and sisters were all grown up and her parents moved on with their lives too. but what would happen if someone needed money or emotional guidance, or just a shoulder to lean on. had she been too concerned to let them live on their own? were they capable of taking care of themselves, or did she always give them an easy way out.

"why do you worry about such things..." the question hung in the air for a moment. Suddenly, she realized it was spoken aloud.

"who are you? how did you get here?" she was neither scared or shocked, but amused that someone was standing before her reading her mind.

"i'm here to guide you to your next life. You cannot make it on your own because of attachments you refuse to give up."

she stared at him curiously now. it was young man in a loose white shirt and black slacks. his hair reached just below his ears and he had beautifully trimmed sideburns.

"what attachments," she smirked. "i cannot leave until i know they are okay."

"That's not why i'm here. That's not your true worry." he picked a flower from one of the bouquets.

"of course it is, why else would you be here?" this time, she was surprised.

"because you are still linked to your husband." he dropped the flower.

her body stiffened and she looked up to the ceiling. blinking quickly, she tried to get rid of the tears that were forming, but at this stage in her life, she couldn't blink them away any more.

"i want nothing to do with him. nothing, do you hear me? i've had enough of worry and what-if's that i can't run my mind through any more scenarios. please leave me al..." her last word faded into a sob and she covered her face with the crook of her elbow.

"you don't have a choice. this is your last unresolved attachment that must be faced and resolved. if you refuse, your life will be spent attempting to fix it..."

"no, yo-you can't ma-make me." she wiped the tears away but they wouldn't stop.

"you have no choice. i will try make it as painless as possible, but it won't be easy. come, take my hand..."

his hand didn't seem the least bit comforting. the thumbs were nibbled on, cuticles split and raw skin showing, and the veins popped out of the back of it, as if he didn't eat enough. still, she didn't want an eternity of trying to fix the relationship she let fail. she weakly reached out her hand and touched his...

she was back in the year 2002. before her stood a judge, her ex-husband and his brother. she gasped and started to shake, this was her wedding ceremony. she shouldn't be here, this happened already. she tried to speak but noticed she could only see what was happening through her own eyes. she couldn't control her body or voice.

"why am i back here?" was all she could think.

"this is where it started. the guilt, the joy, the feeling of belonging to someone and being stuck with them for the rest of your life: the regret of not having a real wedding with the excitement of not doing things traditionally. sure you were with him far before that, but the attachment started here.

you see, having a boyfriend was a bit of another babysitting job for you. it was another person to take care of. he didn't compromise to take care of your needs, so you felt he was incapable of doing so. you put it out of your mind and just took it one day at a time. then you got married. deep in the back of your mind, something told you that this person that was incapable of taking care of you would need to be cared for on a 24 hour 365 day schedule. you let parts of yourself go at that moment to make sure he had what he wanted. you forgot the most important thing..."

"what is that...?"

"what you wanted." he tightly gripped her hand and they moved onto the next memory.

~~~~

not too bad for half an hour. i almost made it to 1000 words. perhaps in these 39 seconds i can make it all the way up. don't know. think i should write down my life story, someone's bound to read it. even if i'm pictured as the enemy, the person to hate, wouldn't it be interesting to see how many people like my life?

dr. wicked's write or die - freewrite

397

16

lab.drwicked.com

a true freewrite. i have nothing to say at the moment. though, that brings to mind a certain red door i once came across while walking to work one day. the color drew my attention since it was against the boring greys and blacks of the city. this door stood out. i suppose i'll tell you what happened when i entered.

the handle was warm, a shock compared to the chilled air around me. my hands didn't grip, but caressed the tarnished brass doorknob. for some reason, i really didn't want to let go, except the mood on the other side of the door called me in.

my body rocked back and forth, as if it was fighting with my head not to go in. i thought of the warmth coming from the inside and i couldn't help but step in. the moment my foot touched the soft hallway carpet i couldn't think for myself anymore. my hands closed the door, locking the 5 locks from top to bottom.

gotta stop telling and describe what's going on. let's try this again.

i reached out to touch the doorknob as my heart raced. so cold was the air it must have looked like i was smoking. but that didn't matter. the tarnished brass was warm on my fingers. caressing the curves i turned the handle more as if someone asked me.

no don't like that either. i'm sure other writers have this sense of not liking what they write. but it does get frustrating. i worry about how i want something to look to someone, even if i know full and well they will read whatever they want to read. it's just important that i keep on writing. i just can't sstop. my life depends on it.

we'll see what happens next time. love this dr. wicked's write or die. helps to get a sense of purpose in writing.. and jogs my memory to do it properly.

as i approached the door, my body swayed. the heart pushed me to open the door while the start of a headache cautioned me to stop and run away. i couldn't resist the heat coming from the other side. i needed to get in.

The castle... (freewrite)

"Higher! It's still not tall enough..." the words flew from his royal mouth like arrows enclosing an enemy.

The prince's eyes didn't focus on anything but the wall of his castle. It would be a fantastic wall, built to scare away the enemy who tried to rush it and to protect the ones within. But so far he hadn't felt comfortable with the plans.

"Y-yes, sir" was all the architect could utter. Tavarius rolled up his seventh revision to the castle plans and bowed out.

"Marcello, show the man out."

"Yes, your highness."

When the room was quiet, the prince began to pace. Perhaps it wasn't the height that was bothering him. Was it the thickness? the brick used, the mortar? Day and night he thought about this wall and why it troubled him so. There must be something missing, something he hadn't thought about yet.

"If only father were here..." he sighed.

"If only...?" a smiling voice came out from behind a curtain. "Brother, what is troubling you?"

"Miranda, this is nothing for you to concern yourself over."

"Your darkened eyes worry me, Darius. If there were anything i could do to help ease your suffering, just say the words."

"You could help me fix the damn wall!"

"Brother, there's nothing wrong with the wall. No matter how strong its bricks or fine construction can make it, the wall is only as good as the people that support it. Father was weak and didn't have the strategical prowess that you have proven on the battle field. Go on with the plans. They are sound. Trust in yourself."

"But i'm not ready..."

"We adapt. Come, let's get some supper."

writing begins!

just rewrote "Thank you... for everything" posted here: (Parts 1 & 2)

going to submit this week to a few contests.

will let you know ^_^

saturday morning freewrite

it's amazing what goes on around you. while i was riding the train the other day, i noticed a highly irritated woman sitting in the row of seats across from me. a man just squeezed into a 3 seater and decided he'd work on his over-sized laptop. elbows out, he worked in the tiny space, making her feel uncomfortable.

here's a bit of a story freewrite i started on the train describing what she might have been thinking. i guess you could see my writing process, where i stop, crossout, start again. Perhaps this is a good way to see how my thoughts come together ^_^


~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What the hell is he doing?" her eyebrows scrunched.

A day of getting coffee, writing kiss-ass letters and .... (started over)

Her eyebrows scrunched in annoyance. The guy next to her just whipped out a 17" laptop between the Metro North seats. One long sigh from pursed lips foreshadowed their ride home. She leaned her head back and had to laugh. Just in front of her was a Sprout ad on the window.

"That's the kid's channel, right? The one where little ones learn how to be with their parents. What that would have done to my relationship with Mama. Too bad we never took time to make paper flowers."

A smile crossed her lips at the thought. Would it ever be possible to start over.

"Maybe i'll cal her tonight..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~

maybe i'll continue the story. thoughts of a train rider. maybe a little mroe research and body language reading is in order. damn i love to tell stories... ^____^

writing on the downturn

guess i've been busy lately. dreams have kept me up though... here's one i had last night:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She enjoyed the scent of lavender. Every time she wiped down the counter, she would catch a whiff. Being economically sound wasn't so bad after all....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

and with that pause, the phone rang and i couldn't finish this story. i find it amusing how i have an entire build-up of a story but the reader doesn't have any idea what's coming.

more to come, hopefully i'll remember to finish this one.

some day, i'll have a complete story.

excited about a new story

okay... i think i really have something good going here. one of my freewrites, the one on may 17th has really caught my attention. i was writing at a time where my emotions ran high and the feelings just hit close to home. i hate to say it, but you really have to write what you know.

so i think i'd like to ellaborate on that theme. a lonely woman who's been burned before, finds hope in her new lover, but becomes incredibly divided in her own mind. while she feels security in him, she is unsure if she should trust him, like she's trusted no other. i don't want to describe the entire character, i'd rather write about it, but i'm wondering how well i can make it flow.... we'll see.

next part coming soon.

short story

going to attempt a short story. but now that it's forced, i wonder if i can do it.

perhaps this will turn into a free write. maybe i'll just close my eyes and let the words come out.

swirls of leaves danced around my ankles as i walked down the street. as a gust of wind picked up, i thought they might travel up my pant leg, but the dear little green things were content to stay close to the ground. a laugh escaped my lips as i realized i was thinking about leaves as living, sentient beings again. maybe it wasn't just a dream.

a bright ray of sunlight reflected from an apartment window, and i only had a chance to admire it's beauty for a moment before the bus arrived. as if they were threatened by the fumes, the leaves blew away as the hissing doors opened. i stepped into the bus, dipped my metrocard and with a familiar bleep, i was on my way to work.

every time i get on a bus i apologize to rosa parks. i happen to like sitting in the back, though i know times are different now. there's a difference when you're given a choice, or made to do it. but i take the seat in the corner, walking past little children going to school and older men in suits, also going to work. most of them don't bother to look up, unless i accidentally brush against their bags on the floor.

"sorry" i murmur, though they don't really hear it.

my seat is taken, and i sigh sadly. i just wanted to ride with a good seat next to the window. there was something i had to prove. two days ago, i walked to work, nothing out of the ordinary, but still, quite a distance. i passed through one of the city's largest parks and took my time. sweet grass filled my nose, singing birds drowned out the car horns and the sunlight danced between the tree limbs. i almost didn't want to leave.

as i approached the exit, something buzzed by my ear. i thought this early in the morning it might be a mosquito, so i swatted my ear and turned around to see what caused the noise. a leaf was dancing on the air, right next to me. there was no wind in the park, so naturally i was dazzled by the magic of its flight. it buzzed again, but this time, i could hear words from the buzzing.

"don't leave..." it pleaded. "come play with us."

my brows furrowed as i thought about the rationality of this happening. here it was, about 6am during the week, surely i was dreaming. there were leaves falling from the trees and on the ground, i must be seeing things. but the leaf danced closer and again, without a face asked,

"won't you stay...?"

looking around, i saw no one else in the park. i couldn't hear a car, or a truck, a subway or screeching children laughter. everything was still except the leaves. i apologized and slowly backed away from the leaf. inch by inch i made it out and the leaf fell to the floor. a car horn warned me of its turn and i jumped back up on the curb, barely missing being hit. from then on i agreed to take the bus crosstown.

reaching up, i grabbed the pole and held on for the rest of the ride. that couldn't have been real.

"leaves don't talk" i whispered to myself.

a little girl who had noticed me smiled and placed her finger to her lips. 'it's a secret" she whispered back.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i don't think i like writing in the first person..... :-P at least not like that.

freewrite

The silence stiffened her. Every second was another empty hiss in the receiver. She could open her mouth and say something, but what was the use, it wouldn't make her feel any better. She was here in New York, he was far away, beyond the reach of her unmoving hand.

"yeah, i'm okay." it was a lie. nothing was okay. her feelings for him were slipping with every phone call they made. she couldn't touch him, he was becoming a memory and all too quickly. he wasn't there to comfort her, he wasn't there to tell her he loved her. empty promises meant she should let go. to protect herself.

"okay, i'll talk to you tomorrow then." and with a sentence, any last remaining hope of being saved was broken. the frayed rope just snapped in two and now she was going to bed alone. again.

she felt angry, sad, lonely, and empowered. it was one more nail in the coffin - something else to help her become stronger to live on her own. each time her feelings went unnoticed she became a pillar of her own strength, building the metaphorical wall around her heart. someday, she knew that wall would be too high for any man to climb. but maybe that's what she wanted all along.

but for now, the wall was only five bricks across, two bricks high. was it unhealthy to count the amount of times she was ignored, probably not. but she did. the calculations remained in her head like any good aquarian has an instinct to do. she'll hang on to that calculation for dear life because if she couldn't grasp that, she would fall apart.

now the doubt set in. was this really what she wanted? why had things changed so drastically. did she notice them change at all, or did she never really see clearly how things had been in the first place? he listened to her, complimented her style, looked past the body and into the mind. but is that how all men seethe their way into sex. was she completely take in by charm? it couldn't be that. if only for the reason that she was just as sexually charged, if not more so.

after doubt comes insecurity. maybe she's changed, and hasn't realized it. maybe she was better, or more appetizing when she wasn't the main course. isn't it true that you always want to try what someone else has? is history repeating itself? he's getting tired of her. there's no need to write stories or poems or tell her how much he loves her because he's already got her. what if she just doesn't have staying power? is that what happened the last time? is that why it didn't work out. she just wasn't good enough.

her mind is pacing back and forth, like she would do if she had the room in her small apartment. why couldn't she see that before? why does she think she can have what other women have? the face and body only lure them in, no matter what they say with their sweet talk.

she'll go to bed crying tonight, lonely and determined to live a lonely life in the end.