Writers Block

[mashedstickykeys]

Mi Casa

The guests are greeted at the door and they look around the new house, taking it all in, as they step inside.

"Well," the owner closes the door and turns to gesture around, "This is it," he places his hands on his hips and takes a deep breathe "The old ball and chain."

[mashedstickykeys]

Big Cities, Little Fun

The corner store down on main street isn't very popular despite the location, most passerbyers didn't need to stop for paper towels and cigarettes but they weren't barren.

As old Jimmy checked out another passing customer he glanced up at the huge open window beside the door and saw a familiar smiling face waving a hand at him. He quickly rolls his eyes and returns to gathering back the change for the man's items. The bell on the inside of the door rings and a voice sings hello as it enters.

“Jimmy,” she sang in a shaky and awkward pitch almost as if she was trying to sound like Celine Dian but ultimately failed. The other customer shoots an annoyed face at her before gathering up his stuff and leaving. Once the door closes the woman quickly apears at the counter, drumming her hands on the surface and humming.

The man is propped up against the counter on his palms and is staring at the woman across him with disbelief peeping above his glasses and when the new hire shuffles up next to him he glances over and takes a heavy breath.

“To what do I owe this wonderful pleasure, Betty?” he teases now standing to cross his arms.

“Let me show you, Jimbo,” She pops and reaches into her back pocket, the man lets out a breath of acknowledgement and a hint of a chuckle in response to the nickname. Pulling out some cash she starts unfolding it.

“Check it out, one, two, and three! Big bucks for you, Jim, spend this wisely,” she spreads each bill out like a fan and counts them onto the counter pushing them over to him winking and still holding that big smile.

“Three whole dollars?” He questions picking up the money and counting it out once again then hands it to the new hire “Count this, Maria, make sure it's all there,” Maria takes the money hesitantly with a heavy look of confusion and starts counting.

“Oh, it's all there alright,” she puffs out a confident chuckle.

“Maria?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Yep, all three...here,” she holds up the bundle and waves it slightly.

“Now that it's settled?” he asks slyly, almost under his breath.

“Subtract it from what I owe you,” she leans in winking with a smirk.

“You owe me a lot more than this, Bet,” he sighs, grabbing the money back from Maria and opening the register.

“We’ll see,” she draws while slowly taking steps to move away from the counter.

“How much is it now? A thousand?” He squints in her direction once again glancing over his glasses as she moves out of view.

“Could be, but i think logically speaking its nine ninety seven now” she raises as she gets further from the counter and then the only noise that remained is the opening of the cooler doors and

as the man closes the register with the extra cash the bell on the door chimes again and out walks the woman waving a quick “Later!” before the door shut behind her.

“What does she owe you all that money for?” Maria asks carefully. 

“Drugs,” he casually says without laughing or smiling and Maria waits a few seconds before asking another question.

“Seriously?” she deepens now looking right at him.

“No, Maria,” he chuckles softly. “she’s here everyday doing some sort of skit, I assure you, you’ll get used to it,” he throws a wink  back at Maria and she faintly smiles in return.

[mashedstickykeys]

[mashedstickykeys]

☾ ☯ ☽

If I can see beauty in the ugliest crimes and watch flowers bloom from the rotting corpses, does this make me a monster?  Or is it that I'm too human? Too feeling to be able to do anything with it? I've always been wrapped up in others perspectives I have lost which one is my own. Who am I? The monster that consumes emotion only to turn around and stab it in the back with a blade stained of reasoning? Would this make me wrong? Would this make me less human? Does it matter? I begged for someone to answer these questions for me, I no longer have the knowledge to answer them myself anymore.

⤜𓄿⤛

Sometimes I dream of laying down my dirty and stained clothes and tracing my fingers across each inch of my body, feeling my skin, confirming it's still authentic, still mine. Hand to my chest I feel my heart pump life into me, unrelenting despite it all. I step myself into the fountain known to give youth and I wash away all I've tracked on my way here, ridding myself of the filth and dread. I wash away the sins I could never attest to and the ones I could, washing my years away. I crave to go back to where I began, where I wasn't anything but myself. I want to be reborn.

[mashedstickykeys]

Unfamiliar signs

I’m not sure what it means to always see angel numbers just a minute too late.

[mashedstickykeys]

Who?

“I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don’t ask me who I am” -Sylvia Plath

Our whole lives we spend immense amounts of time trying to discover who we are, what lies beneath the image we show others, but is this a fulfilling ambition?

Does this goal ever get conquered? Has anyone ever been able to know exactly what they want and who they are through each experience? Unchanging? Stubborn.

Everyday is a new beginning, we hear this so often but do we understand what it truly represents? New beginnings require destruction and birth, are these things we can achieve in sleep? Do we destroy every atom of yesterday in 8 hours? Do we wake up a child who’s captivated by every detail we can hold? No, we don’t.

Isn’t the beauty of life not knowing what or even who tomorrow brings? If we begin again and again and again can there ever even be an end? 

I want to place my head on my pillow and burn down buildings and islands that hold my history, all the files and packages that reside within me, taking up too much space and weighing me down, i want to destroy who i was in every single yesterday, never being able to look back and reminisce, only forward, to tomorrow when i wake up new and bright, not anchored by textbooks or notes, just sailing. Beginning. Again.

I know exactly who I am and it's not what I did but what I do, what I grow from, feel, see, hear, breathe. I’m ever changing, movable, and understanding. I will always be a stranger to myself but i fall deeply and madly in love each day with who i become, repeating this cycle forever i will continue to live on in millions of ways unbeknownst to me as i am now but i welcome anyone who decides to cross through my mirror and puppet me for the day for ill learn a little more about who to become tomorrow.