Delight

On Fridays we just write without worrying if it’s just right or not. It’s such a relief, I promise.

Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.

OK, are you ready? Give me your best five minutes on:


It would delight me to hear you say you're sorry.
After all these years to say how wrong you are.
To acknowledge my pain... my eternal sadness
Maybe this day will never come
Maybe this is my ultimate lesson
in forgiveness
My ultimate sacrifice
Choose joy, they say
I choose it but I'm stumbling in the dark
stepping on pieces of glass
Pain searing through my body
My only energy source.
My only heat.
My driving force.

Recovery, n or adj.?

Recovery, n or adj.?

Is it a noun or adjective? Shouldn’t I know this?
Isn’t writing my THING?

Recovery. It’s the thing I realized I am doing everyday.
Recovery. It describes this phase or the rest of my life.
I read this book, Captivating, by Stasi and John Eldridge. It’s really awesome. It’s a game changer. I needed it. I needed to find it at a friend’s garage sale. It was a magnetic force that led me to the book on CD. Seve verifies it. He tells me I have anger management issues. He says I need help. Help that’s he’s not able to administer. He feels verbally abused.
The word shock can’t even describe how I felt at that moment.

I wished I wasn’t this person that got angry and let my words fly. I wish I didn’t wield them like a knife to maim, kill, and destroy everything good in my life. I wish I didn’t exhibit this behavior that is so reminiscent of my mother.
There I said it. I’ve become the thing I hated the most. Now what? Now I duct tape my mouth shut and never let it out.

I have a place that I need to go to allow all this out. I need to write a book, a play, maybe. I need to act my aggression out. I need to act it out over and over and over again till it stops consuming my whole being. I need to get this down on paper before my body submits to the black hole in my stomach, It wants me… dead or alive.

Review: The Lover's Dictionary

The best parts of this book:

deciduous, adj.

I couldn't believe one person could own so many shoes, and still buy new ones every year.

celibacy, n.

n/a

fast, n. and adj.

Starvation and speed. Noun and adjective. This is where I get caught. A fast is the opposite of desire. It is the negation of desire. It is what I feel after we fight.

The speed does us in. We act rashly, we say too much, we don't let all the synapses connect before we do the thing we shouldn't do.

You make it a production. Slam doors. Knock things over. Scream. But I just leave. Even if I'm still standing there, I leave. I am refusing you. I am denying you. I am an adjective that is quickly turning into a noun.

posterity, n.

I try not to think about us growing old together, mostly because I try not to think about growing old at all. Both things - the years passing, the years together - are too enormous to contemplate. But one morning, I gave in. You were asleep, and I imagined you older and older. Your hair graying, your skin folded and creased, your breath catching. And I found myself thinking: If this continues, if this goes on, then when I die, your memories of me will be my greatest accomplishment. Your memories will be my most lasting impression.

exemplar, n.
You love my parents, I know. But you never get too close. You never truly believe there aren’t bad secrets underneath

belittle, v.
No, I don’t listen to the weather in the morning. No, I don’t keep track of what I spend. No, it hadn’t occurred to me that the Q train would have been much faster. But every time you give me that look, it doesn’t make me want to live up to your standards.

Personal reflections:

I think I've been all these definitions at one time.

This a beautifully written story. Really fed my brain. I had no idea how starved my head was for this kind of exercise.

This book made me geniunely thankful for the ability to read, to comprehend, to think.

Brillant piece. Really brilliant. Loved the definition of gamut. Such genius.