snakewrites

[snakewrites]

every time I see some bigshot scientist revealed as a fraud my knee-jerk reaction is "hell yeah elisabeth bik got 'em good" AND IM RIGHT

SHE NEVER QUITS!!!!

ICONIC!!!!

[snakewrites]

An Ode to Me: In Three Parts

To past me;

who went through so much heartache.

Who learned and hurt and loved and cried.

Who realized sometimes the ones who are supposed to love you

never do, and that’s okay.

Who was dealt a horrible hand at life and made the best of it.

Who broke over and over again and still continued on.

To present me;

Who is trying their best with what they have.

Who is still overcoming all that happened.

Who is still learning it’s okay to ask for help.

Who is learning that sometimes people who aren’t obligated to love you

love you more than those who are supposed to.

Who is still continuing, despite everything.

To future me;

Everything will be worth it, one day.

[snakewrites]

Waterlogged Elegy

Flowers strewn about

Floating listlessly

Against a pale, cold hand

A beautiful maiden

Tragically encased in

A waterlogged tomb

Drowned in the river

After madness consumed her

Scorned by a love she thought was true

Never was there a story of more woe

Then the river and its love for Ophelia

[snakewrites]

Those Poets

I want to be one of those poets

The ones that you hear about and think I am not alone

The ones that you read and feel that ache

deep in your chest

And deep in your bones

I want to be one of those poets

The ones you read over and over again

Because, god, finally somebody finally gets it

The ones that you hear and can't stop thinking about

Because it resonates, somewhere deep in your soul

I want to be one of those poets

[snakewrites]

You make peace of the fact that

you'll be dead soon and there's nothing

that will change that

But it never happens

And then what?

How do you continue to live when

you were so ready to die?

[snakewrites]

I am present in this body

I am not a ghost

I am all the things I think I’m not

I am not all the things they said I was

I am a river, moving free

I am a beach, loose and crumbly but still here

I am not made to suffer

I am not a broken pot, fixed all pretty and put on display for others

I am the wind, silent when needed, loud and powerful when necessary

I am everything I ever needed in life

I am I am I am I am

I am me

[snakewrites]

Mother Gothel, Mother Gothel Leave Me Alone

   I remember the first time I watched Tangled. Middle school, we had a special program for those who finished their homework on time. Every month, if you got your work done, then you got to participate in whatever activity they chose. Once, we rode to Wylie and had a picnic. Tangled was one of those events. It had just come out and I was beyond excited. I watched in awe as Rapunzel and Flynn Ryder went through their adventure, sang their songs, and fell in love. I cried when Flynn ‘died’ and cheered when Rapunzel saved him. For weeks I sang the songs, I watched the DVD as soon as it came out. It quickly became one of my favorite Disney movies to watch. As the years went on and I moved into high school, I watched it less and less, but it still held a place in my heart. My friend and I would watch it occasionally in high school because it was her favorite film. Mother Gothel always gave me bad vibes but I couldn’t quite figure out why she was so familiar. Not until after high school, at least.

   I moved into an apartment with my best friend and a would-be friend. We were having a movie night. Disney movies, naturally, with mandatory sing-alongs. Everything that I loved about our apartment. We decided to watch Tangled, I hadn’t seen it in a while, but I figured it would go fine. And at first, it did. The usual opening credits, Rapunzel’s morning song, everything was as I remembered it. And then Mother Gothel showed up. That sickening sweet tone, the words she used to manipulate Rapunzel, all of it felt familiar. It no longer felt like Mother Gothel was talking to Rapunzel. Instead, it was my mother, explaining how all her problems were my fault, telling me how I had to feel bad for her because I was just causing problems for her to fix. She would belittle me and then tell me that I didn’t love her enough in the same sentence. Everything I did was wrong, even if I did things the way she wanted. Every scene with Mother Gothel was the same, a new memory came with every saccharine manipulative word. God, all I wanted was to watch a movie with my roommates, was that too much to ask? She ruined so much for me, what’s one more thing?  I spent the whole movie tense, remembering every single moment I tried hard to forget. Exhausted, emotionally, and physically, I ended up going to bed as soon as that movie was over. It wasn’t the only time I watched Tangled after I left her, though most attempts ended the same, but it was the first time I realized who Mother Gothel reminded me of. Turns out I had my own Mother Gothel to escape, and unlike Rapunzel, I didn’t need some rugged thief to help me. Maybe one day I’ll be able to watch Tangled without being assaulted with bad memories, but until then I’ll leave Mother Gothel be.

[snakewrites]

The Day the World Finally Stopped

It started out the same as it always did, the loud ringing of the car alarm and the sudden jolt in his chest as he awoke. He looked around and sighed, maybe there wasn't an end. The first couple of times had been exciting. Confusing as hell, but exciting, nonetheless. After the hundredth reset with no possibility of the end, it had quickly become boring. He didn’t even try to mix it up like he had the first hundred run-throughs. Now he had a routine down. Get up, make some stupid food, waste time until The Moment, and then be the savior and die. Wash, rinse, repeat. Honestly, he was kind of numb to it at this point. Dying that is. No matter what choices he made, they always ended up back in that alleyway and he always made the choice to save them, sacrificing himself in the process. The method changed sometimes but the results were always the same. An agonizing amount of pain, plenty of tears, and then fade to white and he was back where he started. God, it was getting kind of boring, but he couldn’t figure out anyway to beat the endless cycles.

He had stopped trying to figure out why this was happening ages ago. Somewhere, deep down inside him, he wished that it would just stop. He wished he could go back to his world, his normal life. What he wouldn’t give to see them, to be able to talk to them without all the death and time loops. He had been so scared to tell them how he had felt. How his heart lit up every time they smiled. God, what he wouldn’t do to see that smile again. They never smiled in any of the loops. No matter what he did, they could not hang out or see each other until the end of the day, until The Moment. The first couple loops were the worst. Having to live with their heartbroken face on repeat in his head, the sound of their sobs. The first couple loops, he had laid in bed and cried and cried until he was supposed to meet them. But he never skipped the meeting. He would never do that to them, would never let them be hurt if he could do something, if he could save them.

               He really should have noticed that something major was different in today’s loop, but honestly after his routine was set in stone, he sort of disassociated for most of the loops. It wasn’t the best idea, but he was just so tired, just felt so hopeless, and he didn’t want to think anymore. So, it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t notice the differences in the way they had been acting. A disruption in your routine when you’re on autopilot hardly matters after all. Your body is well equipped to maneuver around it. So, when they messaged him, asking to hang out well before The Moment, he thought nothing of it. And it was really fun, the most fun he had had since this whole thing started. Maybe that should have been a warning sign, but he was enjoying this too much to even think about anything other than how wonderful they were. A part of him figured he was probably just dreaming, and that any minute he would wake up at the start of the loop. He wanted to savor all of the good memories, even if he figured they were fake. So, he played along. He hung out with them all day and talked and laughed and had a good time. And then The Moment happened. He had almost forgot about it, so content with how the day had gone. But he knew what he had to do. So, when the mugger drew his weapon, a gun this time, he moved to step in front of them, closing his eyes in preparation for the shot he knew was coming. Except it didn’t? He heard the gun go off, but he never felt the bullet hit him. Hearing the departing footsteps of the mugger, he forced his eyes open. The sight in front of him hurt almost as much as the bullet would have. They had protected him. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. They had jumped in front of the bullet and now they were on the ground bleeding out. He crouched as quickly as he could, gently moving to cradle their body. They moved one bloody hand, caressing his cheek. Jaggedly panting, they whispered “Looks like this time I saved you, huh?” before their hand went limp and they were gone. He sat there in shock, unable to process what had happened. Deep breath, inhale, exhale. He knew how to fix this. Close his eyes, let the bright light flash once, and everything would start over. Another deep breath and his eyes fell close, waiting for that flash of light. It never came. It seems he had found the end of the loop.

[snakewrites]

Things You Should Know

Some things you should know when you get out of a bad relationship (be it romantic/platonic/familial)

You will miss the person they used to be/the person they pretended to be at the beginning.

You'll want to talk about the good memories you had, but you'll be afraid that it will invalidate your experience. It's okay to talk about them.

You'll be worried constantly about how maybe you're just being overdramatic and how maybe it wasn't that bad. Know that whatever happened to you was real, your experiences are valid and so is your trauma.

The weirdest things will make you think of them. On days like this, it's ok to take a break.

Love and hate can exist at the same time. You can love the person they pretended to be and all the good memories while still hating the way they ruined your life.

You may feel broken and ruined. One day you'll find someone who will love you like you deserve, broken pieces and all.

There will always be someone who will tell you that 'you should just forgive them!' You do not owe anyone forgiveness if you do not want to forgive them. It is up to you and no one else if and when you give out forgiveness.

Sometimes people will say that 'your trauma made you stronger' and that 'you were supposed to go through this so you could help others go through it and save them' It's a nice attempt at making you feel better, but it does nothing to help. You did not suffer so you could be someone else's hero. No one deserves to go through trauma, especially at the expense of helping others.

There are so many behaviors you will not be aware of that you internalized. You do not need to work on them all at once, start easy, and give yourself time. Recovery is not a linear path.

You are worth it. No matter what they told you, no matter what the voice in your head says. You are worth it, someone out there cares a whole lot about you (or if you can't think of anyone who does, I care).

[snakewrites]

Prompt 11: Draft a descriptive sketch about a character without using any information found on a driver's license (name, birthday, height, weight, sex, eye color).

You notice things. How can you not notice anything and everything about them, when they're the brightest thing in the room. Even their quiet presence is more than enough to grab your attention. Here are some things you notice. Hands, forever shaking, rough and dry. Nails bit to the stubs, jagged and uneven. Baggy clothes whose purpose is to hide, to become a shapeless blob. Hair unruly, constantly toyed with. Fidgeting always, their hands moving to mess with anything, everything, just for something to do. Eyes flitting, forever flitting. Unable to make eye contact, they shrug their shoulders in a jerking motion before settling back into their original position, hunched and tense. A smile lurks in the corner of their mouth, shy but genuine nonetheless. Any laughter is hidden behind their hands, an action that's become reflexive, the only hint as to why is the pain that briefly flickers in their eyes.  Their mouth is constantly bitten to hell, often at the expense of their words. 

Once, in the moments late at night, when time means nothing, they tell you how they learned that it was better to be quiet than to talk and face the consequences. It's a quiet offhand comment made before they drift off, comfortable, and vulnerable in your arms. You stay up the rest of that night, seething in quiet anger, but careful not to wake them up. How could anyone hurt someone so kind? Because they are. They are the kindest person you have ever met. You can see it in their eyes and in their smile and in their soul. And they give and give and give. And they love and love and love. And they listen and listen and listen. And they get hurt because of it. Because the world is cruel to those who give and give. And the world is cruel to those who are kind. And yet they still try and they still give and they are still kind. And, god, doesn't that make you want to protect them. To give them back just a little bit of what they give to an uncaring, selfish world. To help them, to pick up their pieces when they fall apart.

 And maybe one day, they'll smile freely. They'll laugh openly, no barrier needed. They'll speak their mind whenever, where ever, just because they can. They'll be open and free and unapologetically them. One day, they'll see themselves as you do. They'll understand that they are so worthy, that they are so undoubtedly pure and good. That all the things you've told them, all the kindness you said they bring into the world, is a blessing. That having a big heart is not a burden. You'll be there every step they let you be. (You hope that it's forever.)

[snakewrites]

Prompt: Write a story focused on expanding a moment in time.

For a moment, everything is wonderful. We're laughing so hard our ribs hurt and nothing matters. You told some dumb joke and I made some dumb comment and it set us off. If anyone asked, we couldn't explain what's so funny but I think that's the nice part. The idea that its a joke just for the two of us. For a moment I am not thinking about the weight of the world, all the wrongs that have happened and will continue to happen. I am not thinking of every bad thing I have done or every bad thing that has happened to me. I am not worrying if I am good enough for you, or for anyone. I am simply existiing, being with you, living in the moment.

[snakewrites]

A small cave of wonder and comfort

owned by some terrible giants.

Made safe by her presence.

A cozy scattering of blankets and stuffed animals,

like a dragon's hoard, treasure abound.

She sits, carefully sewing some fabric together.

Hands, larger than mine, pale as silk.

She is focused, intricate details spilling from

her fingertips as she works.

I watch her quietly, somberly,

She's otherwordly, ethereal.

I break the silence, jarringly,

by asking

   "Why do you put up with me?"

She doesn't look up from her work.

There's a long pause and I think

--maybe she didn't hear me, maybe I

can pretend like this didn't happen, like

my thoughts didn't slip out, unbidden, unwanted, unintentional,

   but--

She hums and answers

   "Because I do"

And then she settles back into her work

And I settle back into my unease

                                       And we go on

[snakewrites]

Prompt #7: Start with an idea for writing that you've been saving "for later."

Its the ache

The ache in your stomach

Like someone took a rusty spoon

And scooped out all of your insides

Replaced them with ice cubes and ugly, ugly worms

The ache in your chest

As you heave and heave and heave

An invisible, ever-tightening, corset

That cracks every bone you cannot see

The ache in your eyes

As you blink and blink and blink

And try not to cry

ohgoddon'tcry

And the ache in your wrists

As you stare at nothing

And ignore the glintglintglint

Of the pretty thing that calls your name

[snakewrites]

Prompt 11: Read Kathleen Flenniken's "What I Saw" and James Wright's "A Blessing"; then write about an unexpected sighting you had of a person or an animal. Make both the setting and the character you witnessed vivid-even if your glimpse was actually fleeting. Reflect on why this sight has lingered in your mind.

Seven-thirty AM. It's the weekend but unlike everyone else, I don't get to sleep in. I follow my usual weekend routine. Except for this time, the mobile app for Starbucks doesn't work. Too tired not to get coffee but not willing to risk the line, I decide to get Caribou instead. I don't usually go there but I decided that it might be nice to change it up. I get the usual, shocked at the price difference. When I pull up to the window, I see her. Her hair is a lovely auburn shade and the morning sun reflects off of it in a way that makes her look ethereal. It is too early for this crisis and I stumble over my words as I had her my rainbow debit card. Her hands are delicate, speckled with freckles in an adorable manner. She looks cheerful, despite the early hour. She compliments my glasses, eyes lighting up and mouth upturned. I blush and assume that will be the end of that, most people move on after giving me the compliment. But, she continues on. She asks me if they are real and where I got them, a reassuring smile gracing her lips and reflected in her kind eyes. As I answer her, I see her excitement rise, she continues to engage in this conversation as she hands me my drink, explaining where she got her glasses and comparing the two sites, hands a fluttering. Her cheeks flush a bit as she realizes she has been rambling, though I don't really mind listening. Her voice is a calming sound to my ears and I could listen to it all day, had I not needed to get to work. After bidding me a good day, I drive away in higher spirits than I have in days. I think about her off and on the rest of the day, her simple conversation heightens my mood for the rest of the day, and nothing that happens can diminish that. Maybe it was her kind smile or her cheerful attitude at such an early time. Maybe it was the way she continued past the basic compliment and seemed to want a genuine conversation. Whatever it was, she stuck in my mind. Maybe I'll go to Caribou more often.

[snakewrites]

Free Write 8/26/20

Prompt: Write about an animal you have known.

When I was eleven, we got a dog. Her name was Ruby and she was a mixed breed dog we had gotten from the local humane society. For most of my childhood, I had always wanted a dog, and we had several of them before then but they all had to be given away for one reason or another. Ruby stuck around.She was the funniest dog. She had the stinkiest breath and a tail that went in a circle when she was happy, which she almost always was. We called it her helicopter tail. Ruby was always there for me. She slept in my room most nights, she came and laid with me when I was feeling sad. She used to lay down on my blankets, hours before I went to bed, and she would get mad if I tried to move her so I would just end up using whatever amount of blanket was free. Even before I moved out, I was worried about her. My mother had mostly stopped taking care of her, making my brother or me do the work. A few months before I moved out, she developed a hacking cough and my mother kept telling me how that meant she was going to die. I had to take her to the vet by myself and pay for it all just to make sure she was ok. Around the time I was moving out of the house (more like kicked out but that's another more complicated story) we were selling the house where my family currently lived. Because they had sold the house but had no plan at where to live next, my mother was worried about how the move would affect Ruby. I tried to visit Ruby as much as possible after I moved out, mainly because I missed her a lot. The day before she got put down, my mother called to give me a heads up. She told me that she had an appointment to put Ruby down the next day, only sixish hours from when she called me, and that I could come with if I wanted. I was devastated. Not only was my dog getting put down, the one who was there for me and always cheered me up, but I was getting told last minute. I let my coworkers know I wouldn't be taking any shifts the next day and when it happened I cried for a very long time. I had to help pay for her to be cremated (which I didn't mind but also I never got any of her ashes or anything to remember her by except the plate my aunt made me) and afterward I tried to cheer myself up by going to work to get some comfort food. I ended up crying even harder there as well, though all my coworkers were kind enough to comfort me in any way they could. I spent the next couple of days in a depressing blur. I hung out with my friend in order to take my mind off things, I made a memorial video for Ruby, I missed several days of work, I was a complete mess. That was several years ago. A little less than a month later I got my first tattoo, which was a memorial tattoo to remember her by. The next year I forgot to take the day off, ended up working all day, and cried a lot at work because I missed her so much. It still hurts even now to think of the fact that I'll never see her again. I'm sorry it had to be like this Ruby, I hope you're in a better place...

[snakewrites]

Prompt #5: Write about why you're reading this book or taking this class now. Why do you want or need to write? What are your reasons and what are your fears? What are your personal risks in trying to write, and what would a really good outcome be for you?

I’m currently taking this class because it is a prerequisite for another more specific creative writing class I would like to take. That’s not the only reason, however. I’m also taking this class to work on improving my creative writing. I love writing, specifically poetry but I’m open to try any type at least once. I’m hoping this class will help me improve my skills and get me back into writing poetry. I’ve always wanted to write poetry. I want to be able to write my feelings and experiences in a way that makes it relatable and emotional. I use writing as coping method. There are a lot of things that happened to me in life and plenty more that could happen, and writing is my way of processing some of these things. I also use writing as a way to appreciate my favorite things. I like to write poems based off of my favorite stories or characters, as a way to celebrate why I love them. I am afraid that I will get stuck again. I haven’t really written anything for a few years now and I’m afraid of how hard it will be to get back into it. I went through a rough patch and I stopped doing nearly everything I loved doing. I hope that I can get back into writing things I enjoy. The biggest personal risk I have right now with writing is oversharing. I’m worried that I’ll share to much of my problems and it will put me off writing forever. I really hope that it doesn’t happen like that. The best outcome is that I can get back into writing and be able to express myself again.