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.

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.

the red door

this is a story all about how.. no that's just will smith now. funny how the past comes back do you... isn't it? i started this dr. wicked lab thingy to see if i could get myself back in the habit of writing. i want to write stories again. now the screen just started turning pink. think next time i'll do kamakaze mode.

but anyway, on to my story. i'd like to write about the red door. i should start off small, but then i never know where to begin a story. when i was younger, it always seemed to come much easier to me. but now, it seems like a chore to remember all that stuff. it just shouldn't matter anymore right? just start typing away with a story and see how far you can go with it. and stop with the damn backspace!!! grrrrrrr....

i thought someone was trying to get me. walking to work is such a bore. the same streets, same subway lines, same everything when it's a daily occurance. i'd rather just take a different adventure every day, until i wanted something normal again. we all know what happens to girls that want something different. they get it in a way they didn't expect, then they realize how much their previous life was what they really wanted. in the end, they all get to you.

so one day i noticed something different. i couldn't believe that i never saw it before... a door under the stairs was bright red. Not a nice christmas red, but dark, living red. even with my ipod on, i stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at it's living presence. it wasn't breathing, yet it moved as if a wind was carried through it. i thought that maybe my tired eyes were seeing things. i'm never my best in the morning. but then i heard a lock click and i started on my way, not wanting to stare. the day progressed as every day had for the last year. i went to work, took in calls, resolved issues, stayed later than i should have, and walked home. the door was completely forgotten.

the next morning, taking my normal "follow the traffic lights" route, i came upon the door again. it still seemed like it was moving, but this time, it was inviting and warm. for some reason, i couldn't take my eyes off it. my feet stumbled forward and i was standing beyond the gate. with my next breath, my hand was caressing the painted wood. and as i exhaled, the door closed behind me.