Today I spent some time learning British Sign Language, and catching up on reading for my Lecture tomorrow. Somewhat dreading tomorrow, because I am going to a gig straight after. I can’t wait to spend time with my friend and listen to some lovely music, but I am also somewhat nervous and apprehensive.
I picked up knitting again, to keep my mind and hands busy. I may or may not have fallen into the self harming pit, so I am hoping that a creative project will keep me busy enough during the evening.
Short story prompt: Write about putting together pieces of a puzzle
Rain was splattering against the giant windows. I sat on the floor beside them, safely tucked inside our house. I watched the steam of my hot chocolate rise, watched water pouring down the windows, listening to the drumming and howling outside and my father distantly ordering take outs over the phone. Looking forward to our afternoon together, I wondered about the puzzle we had been working on, and were hoping to finish soon. When it would be done, it would be done. But the puzzle I call life finally felt like it was complete, despite knowing that pieces were still missing, broken beyond repair, were always going to be missing and that pieces would always be added to an ever-changing person in an ever changing landscape. The future used to scare me, not knowing where I was going or where I was supposed to be going. However, I don’t fear the unknown anymore.
Finally, I feel like I am complete enough to not be scared of what may or may not be in the near and distant future. In fact, I look forward to it nearly as much as I look forward to finishing this puzzle. Nothing is certain, apart from the feeling that I feel strong enough to take on whatever may come. Though, saying that, I fear being alone, my mind wants to scatter back into a deep hole of darkness and despair. Before I get dragged back into the shadows, I refocus my attention. The soft feeling of my favourite t-shirt against my skin, my favourite comfy trousers and the heavy feeling of my white, thick throw against my back take my mind back to the moment of happiness and contentment.
My father’s voice comes nearer, with soft, cotton footsteps. “Yes. Yes,” he says to the person on the other end of the phone call, energetic with a smile on his face, adding “in half an hour. Good. Thank you. Bye.”
A smile spreads across my face. The feeling of such joyfulness was overwhelming. These feelings are good, but overwhelming nevertheless. Father takes a seat besides me, and he turns on the TV.
This is not edited or anything, just. Immediately written down here without a lot of time or thinking spent on it. I’ve never really published anything written like this, so apologies. It is awful but I’m gonna publish it anyway.
Phrase of the day
The boy who lived.
Yes, Harry Potter. This translates to “der Junge der überlebte”. It’s the first thing that came to my mind. No regrets.
Photo of the day
Video of the day