Articulate Imposter

A blog for my random blurbs of writing

[articulateimposter]

Hi there

So this is a blog made purely out of boredom, my love for writing, and the random daydreams I've been wanting to put on paper recently. This post is just a few disclaimers:

I have not written that much in a very long time, so this content may not be very good, but it's also mainly for myself. But I am happy if anyone stumbles across it and enjoys it!

I think most of what I post here will be a result of this time-limited site (squibler), where you have to keep writing for however much time (like five minutes or whatever) or it will erase your writing (on dangerous mode or whatnot). So with that said, I might do bare minimum edits to the writing, but probably not much to do with content or like, commas. (I use a lot of commas, unfortunately)

Some of these lil daydreams are a result of fandoms I'm a part of, but for the most part I probably won't put any character names or location things that make it super obvious. I don't have a great reason for this, I just don't want to at the moment, that might change

[articulateimposter]

We worked. Somehow we worked. Even with his anger and guilt surrounding his mother, and by association most of the women in his life. Even with my pain, and white-hot rage toward my father, and everyone in my life by association. Everyone who had hurt both of us, and everyone who watched it happen. Somehow our anger worked together. Or maybe it canceled out.

We allowed each other to be angry; we were allowed to be angry with each other. And that somehow kept us from any sort of genuine hatred for the other. It helped in keeping the balance between the rest of the people in our lives as well. If we could take out that pain and frustration on each other, then we wouldn't take it out on our loved ones. Even if he didn't want to admit his love for his patchwork family. Even if I didn't want to admit my love for the friends I had made in this town, for those that I would die to protect.

We took these feelings out on each other. Sometimes in yelling matches that ended in one of us crying; sometimes in yelling matches that ended with us tearing each other's clothes off. But sometimes, very rarely, we would just sit next to each other and coexist. Waiting for the ending we hoped would never come.

[articulateimposter]

We're like Jack and Sally. We're two sides of different coins. But it works. You were made. You were made and hurt and put back together again. And I was waiting to find something to bring me to life. I was looking for anything to bring that spark, but maybe it was you all along, maybe I needed to stop searching and glance at what was in front of me. Maybe you can help me see clearly, and I can help find a better life for you.

[articulateimposter]

I don't know how it happened. I'm not sure if you're the one who noticed me first or vice versa. I don't know if you truly just recognize me because my dad and I visited the store before I came to work there, or if it was just a feeling. I like to imagine the latter. The idea that maybe we were connected in a past life. The way you talk to me, the way I just…. don't know how to talk to you. I want to learn more about you but I don't want to come off as needy. I don't want to sound like i'm being overprotective when i barely know you. I don't want to say that I look forward to seeing you every week unless it's with a twinge of exaggeration or sarcasm, even though it's really not. I truly look forward to seeing your face every week. I want to ask about your life. I want to know your pets' names. I want to meet them. I want to learn more about your business and your hobbies and your life. And who you were before I met you. I want to learn about heartbreaks and injuries and stupid little moments that stick with you years later. I want to know it all but I don't want to come across as weird, I don't want to ruin the friendship I think we have. But maybe it's just acquaintanceship and I just don't know how to tell the difference. maybe I just don't know how to say that I like you and not ruin everything afterward.

[articulateimposter]

You were standing naked in front of your best friend as she stripped down as well. It was a bit jarring, honestly. You had seen each other naked before, sure, but it was mostly in passing--in locker rooms or during sleepovers. Never so... deliberately. By the time she finished undressing, the shock had worn off and you two were giggling. Grabbing each other's hands, you ran toward the dock, not even needing to communicate beyond the single action. You ran to the edge of the dock and leaped into the water as one, yelling out as you jumped. 

After the initial giggling and splashing each other in the water, you wound up floating on your backs, holding hands to keep from floating away from each other. You watched the clouds and mumbled to each other about the shapes once and a while, but mainly you were content to stay there and just be. And so you stayed floating until your fingers resembled prunes.

[articulateimposter]

The clock struck midnight. We were the only two in the park, but it felt like the air around us was alive. The snow falling felt like little spirits joining us on our small celebration, far away from the crowd in the center of town. We could hear the cheers as we held hands in the gazebo, shivering against the wind. I brought my hand to his face and smiled, happy to feel the warmth there, happy to see his smile in return, happy to be with new love. He placed his hand on the back of my neck and I stood on my tippy toes to reach his face. Our lips met, softly, sweetly. A far cry from our usual kiss, which typically held more passion than we cared to acknowledge (ignorance of the actual feelings we held). This kiss was gentle, meaningful, and the beginning of something I would hold dear for the rest of my life. This night was the start of a flurry of feelings, of late nights, of stolen moments in crowded rooms. 

[articulateimposter]

The world looks so big from here. I feel so close to everyone but so alone at once. I watch the city lights flicker constantly. They say that New York is the city that never sleeps, but what about the rest of them? I don't think I've ever seen a building without lights on in this city, but I have seen the streets empty at night and in the early hours of the morning. Maybe that's comforting, in a way. We all need to get away for a while, even if we never go to sleep. It's such a weird experience of feeling so connected to people while also feeling so insignificant and small. We are all the same yet we don't notice each other, being so caught up in our own lives. Or maybe it's just that everyone wants to be off the streets at this time of night. Maybe we all find some sort of fear in what can happen in wide open spaces at night, but still can't bear to turn off the lights quite yet. Or maybe I'm projecting, and really everyone else has a good reason to be awake at this time on a Tuesday night. Maybe everyone else is with loved ones and dancing around when they think no one else is awake. But I like to think that this time of night is for those like me. The dreamers who don't sleep, who watch the rain and the lights and wonder about each other.

[articulateimposter]

You shook your head, grinning. It helped that she didn't like being at home much, and was probably using your outings as an excuse to get out more during the summer without the excuse of school and cheer practice. You'd discovered your similar familial issues a few months into your friendship, after you had stayed over at her house one night and had overheard her father yelling at her about some matter, breaking a plate in the process. She had tried to play it off like nothing happened when she got back to her room, but you made a decision that night, to show her your house. You hadn't let anyone else over before that, you had always stayed at her house for sleepovers and people didn't question you when you said your parents were too strict to host parties. But the next weekend, you invited her over instead,. She initially refused and said she knew your parents were too strict, but caved easily at a bit of insistence. You told her not to tell anyone about your house, about what she would see, but it felt redundant, you knew she would never break your trust, would never tell anyone something that was so obviously a secret. So you drove her to your house, and when she walked around with a furrowed brow, you told her the outline of your story. How your parents weren't good people, how you got out after the final straw, how your siblings stayed with them but you knew they were safe, how you weren't ready to talk about the final straw. All she did was hug you, and tell you she was there for you, that you were there for each other. And you were, and would be, forever.

[articulateimposter]

I had been looking forward to this. The storm was raging outside my window, the first big thunderstorm of the summer, quite late in the year but welcome nonetheless. I had always loved the feeling of sitting in a comfy chair with a cup of hot chocolate or tea, reading a book while listening to the rain pound on the ceiling. A year ago, when I was still settling into my own home, my own life, and my own identity in this new town, I had many days like this. And I looked forward to them every time the forecast called for a storm. The way it made you feel alive at every flash of lightning through the trees, the force of nature so apparent and beautiful. I had been looking forward to it this year; in the spring I got giddy at the thought of having someone to share the moment with. Of having someone to curl up next to as the thunder boomed, to rent a scary movie and laugh at the bad acting, to create new stormy day traditions. I had been looking forward to it. But as the rain slapped against the window pane and the power went out from a tree falling on a nearby power line, all I could do was sit on the floor, staring at the door. Waiting for someone to show who would never show again. I had been looking forward to this, but now it was dark. And I was alone.