RULES!
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Giveaway ends 02/16!
A flower doesn’t even know how pretty it is, ever in its life. Isn’t that sad.
I guess it all started with mankind. From the earliest time you could remember, you were taught, no not taught, you knew. You just knew how to fear, how to create fear, how to wield fear. And you may think you know what you’re scared of, but I’m here to tell you that you don’t.
The simplicity of it may astound you. You’re all scared of the same thing, one way or another. You may think you’re scared of that huge bloated spider in the corner carrying that red hourglass atop its body. You may think you’re scared of that open field ahead of you, brightly lit with falling stars, except ten times deadlier. You may think you’re scared of the car speeding straight towards you, about to collide with you outside that video you love so much. But you aren’t. You may think that, but when it comes down to the bare essentials, that’s not what you’re afraid of.
Imperfection is what makes us human.
Jem clutched at the thin sheets on his bed, bundling the light fabric in his left hand, cradling a bottle in his right. He took another swig of his drink and stared moodily at the corner of the barren room. The drink was tasteless, and he made a face of disgust, but took another swig nevertheless. His only consolation was the fire burning its way down to the pits of his stomach, lighting a spark that only lasted for a second before fading.
He wasn’t sure when he started becoming too numb to feel drunk.
“Promise me,” she insisted.
Jake stared incredulously at his best friend, and she stared back fiercely with a scowl upon her face, marring its prettiness. He bit his lower lip, not wanting to promise anything. She shouldn’t have even told him; she knew he couldn’t keep secrets to save his life or anyone else’s for that matter.
“Promise me,” she caught the edge of his chin with her left hand, making him look into her eyes, not allow him to avoid her gaze.
The lawyer looked at the tired old woman sitting across from her. Age had creased her face, creating deep furrows in her brow, and wrinkles across her cheeks. Her eyes were a bit unfocused, and the woman kept staring at a spot on the wall. The lawyer couldn’t help but think her eyes looked haunted. She shuffled the papers in front of her, studying the file with a careless concentration that she had practiced over the years. Then, she stared curiously at the woman. The poor old thing didn’t look like she could hurt a fly, not the least bit dangerous, but her file disagreed. Apparently, a man had come to the woman’s house, looking to repossess some of her things, and the woman had acted out in violence—striking the man hard even for him to file assault and battery. Ah, well. It was business, and she was hardly surprised anymore.
“Ma’am, what may I do for you?” she cleared her throat and assumed a brisk tone.
The old woman glanced up at her for a moment. “Nothing. You can do nothing for me. Not anymore.”
The little girl moved closer to the strange man sitting on the park bench, slumped over. Somehow he didn’t seem like he belonged there. He had an air of chaos about him, and she didn’t think he’d like to be woken up. The tattered black jacket was worn and wrinkled on his body, making a sort of loose cocoon that hid his real shape to the onlooker’s eye. His blue jeans had a hole in the area over the right knee, and it looked like a gaping wound——a battle wound of sorts. Yes, that was it she thought. He’s a soldier. Dirty sneakers with the laces untied dangled from the edge of the park bench. She felt bad. He looked cold. Deathly cold. And he could barely fit on the bench as it was.
She didn’t want to wake him.
If he woke up, the mystery would be shattered; he’d return back to normal.
I am under the impression that you did not understand my joke.
—was it too vague for you?
Perhaps if I removed the tongue-shaped seal
and untied the golden string with which it was delivered
you would understand, and laugh,
but only for a moment or two.
That puzzle lying on the table wasting away wistfully,
Unfinished;
Frustrated and in a fuming frenzy, cannot find that
Perfection;
Every groove lined up with another, but one place is
Broken;
Missing, always missing, slightly sunken in, edges are
Sharp;
A beautiful epiphany. Snap! and the cerulean sky is
Complete;
Close, almost the same as the others, but somehow is
Unique;
The picture looks lost without it, limping from a heavy
Spirit;
Stable, sticking where it belongs, molded to the form,
Belonging;
Ever so tiny, but essential, to experience full essence of
Beauty;
That puzzle lying on the table waiting wonderfully,
Just, there.
