Unconfined Thoughts 30 — Autumn

It’s quite peculiar that when the seasons change, everyone raves about pumpkin spice everything when all I can think about is why my loved ones suddenly turned into ones who irritate me to no end. All of their flaws, which I’ve conditioned myself to accept as a part of them, suddenly became louder and prickles my skin like millions of unwanted mosquito bites. Those who I’ve simply tolerate breeze by me, causing me to grit my teeth and hurt my gums. I stare at my reflection confused and afraid hoping to see words written across my face indicating me if I’m the jerk or if the world is a jerk to me. Then again, you can’t be arrested for being a jerk. You would just be known as someone with harsh words, but no backbone. You’d be known as someone who utilizes their fears to raise yourself higher or you’d be known as someone who appears to have never felt the kind light before. Behind those tired eyes, you can’t help but wonder what the idling thoughts construct the person who’s walking around right in front of you. You hope that they match up with your own thoughts. That your griping of the world matches theirs instead of validating the fact that the world is true as you see it just without the rose colored glasses.

When the seasons change, I can’t help but wish for all of those who give me warmth from the inside out rather than being forced to huddle helplessly underneath my blankets.

Written: 9/28/17 1:32pm (in class)

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Ecstatic Epiphany | Quick Piece

Towards the sunset we walked with your hand in mine. A small sense of peace and security overcame me and my heart fluttered with joy. “I just can’t believe it.” I whispered. He rolled his eyes and nudged my shoulder. “Here she goes again. She’s having an epiphany, everyone!” I laughed and nudged him back, a little harder. “Don’t make fun of me! I’m just really happy and it’s been such a long time.” He smirked at me and whispered, “That’s only because we’re getting ice cream.” I laugh and darted into the store and found the ice cream section. He stood next to me, ogling along and said, “I’m going to have to get a job. All of these flavors sound so good.”

Here I am sitting with you under the setting sun with the sweet taste of the simple vanilla on my tongue. Without a word, I glance at you, your face glowing from the ending day and I kiss you on the cheek. “What was that for?” you said, your mouth full of ice cream. I shrug and respond, “I don’t know.” Silence falls as the night wraps its arms around us. He pulls me closer, saying “I’m happy too.”

Unconfined Thoughts 27 – Public Service Announcement

When I was in middle school, I read about ridiculously good looking spies, aiding in the cause of protecting art. In high school, I found myself drifting towards books with a little less adventure, but I read about people who were the adventure, how they grazed the literal fabric of time in the between their fingers or battled against the injustices of the controlling. As time grew by and as I found less time to dream and expand my muscle of imagination, the stories that I created were painted with the base of my sorrows and joys. I cried about how I felt so lonely in my own mind and with other people. I furiously compiled words together to display my anguish with my failures, leaving space for the last sentence where I spelled out that I will try again. I happily wrote about my first love and filled with sorrow as I wrote about my heartbreak that was filled with naivety. And with shaking hands, I wrote about loss, grief and panic. The words know and hold me, cradling me into the comfort of the freedom of expression.

Now that I’m in college, I browse through the books and look upon them as study guides, a path of inspiration that I could gather. What could those who made it past the publishing press be writing about today? Books lining the shelves with instances of divorce, the chance and suspicion of an affair, and teenagers with too much unreasonable angst that their parents who might as well give up. Where has the hope gone, the spark of beauty in the world? Where has the simplicity of enjoying the beauty in the common gone? Who is the beholder of the words, even though it’s still free when it feels like it goes with the ebbs and flows of the damned society?

I apologize if any of you have had to deal with the misfortunes of life, but as your mother or someone of wisdom may have told you, we always learn from mistakes. Stand back up and try again. If we consistently preach about the comfort of home, with matching cushions for each season, then wouldn’t our backbone get weak?

You’re at a dinner party with a mix between your dear friends, co-workers and their friends whom you just met 45 minutes ago. To your left, someone whispers about a boring life despite recently married. To your right, someone gloats about their new promotion while three other people jealously congratulate them, turn to their spouses and tell them that they definitely don’t deserve it. And you? You smile and keep drinking, hoping that the hour would pass and everyone would pat their bellies and file out of the door where you’ll follow in suit — the proper etiquette.

Stupidity may be bliss, but as our mothers lovingly told us, we’re unique with a beautiful story behind us. The world has enough shit happening. Why don’t we help it out by adding some more colors?

 

Written: 7/7/17 3:00pm

Bella | Quick Piece Breakdown

Hello everyone!

I’m back and writing stories again! I hope you didn’t miss me too much! This summer, I’m really going to try my hardest to make sure I write every week whether it be a story, poem or a vignette. Hey, maybe you can keep me accountable.

Bella 

This story was inspired about some birds that were having a conversation outside of my window. From there, it spiraled into this story you just read. I also incorporated my time being alone in my apartment into this character and how it can shift your mentality and be all about you.

Basically, this story is about a man who is recalling small aspects of his life. He’s basically all alone in his room and going about the day. He had an argument with his mother, but he doesn’t seem as concerned with it as he is with his seperation from his best friend and not being able to partake in different stages of his best friend’s life all because he had simply rejected him. At the end, he is shown to have some aspect of emotion when he laughs at seeing his best friend’s daughter, Belle, but he ends up crying himself to sleep.

A sad story? Yes, I’m sorry.

A lot could be interpreted from this story from friendship to depression to how someone so small could bring someone so much joy to isolation. My main idea for this story as I continued to write it from my initial sentence about chirping birds is that people aren’t always who they’re perceived to be even the darkest and saddest of individuals or even those who don’t appear to be sad at all. There’s a backstory to everything (including that flash fiction/short story).

Fun Fact: Bella means promise and beautiful, so in a way, the main character is promising to himself that things will get better somehow.

I hope you enjoy this piece!

Alice