ash

 I am your's, forever yours...and when the last star of the universe blinks silent, I will still be yours.  

[sugascape-edits]

The Glacous Army

@notnee

I have always thought that people can be a bit stupid, don’t you think? They form their own little stereotypes, and assume everything. But, who am I to complain; I should be grateful for their gormlessness. “Absinthe is such a sweet girl” they say, not knowing what actually lies behind my 8 year old self, not knowing what I actually am. And anyways, who would even believe me, when I would say I’m actually a zombie who can contaminate? 

My mom, Esther, has never seen me for who I am. She is too wrapped up in her silly little parties to get to know her daughter, and I’m glad she is. I can contaminate by touch, but I have always been careful to control my powers around dear mother. She can’t know my secret; yet.

I was sitting in bed, reading a book, when mom suddenly just burst in through the door. “Ab, I have a party to go to and I’m dropping you off at a daycare, you’ve got 5 minutes to put on something decent and get in the car.” she said, checking her makeup in my mirror and then slamming the door shut. I smiled to myself. Look at her, giving me the perfect opportunity to carry out my plan. Bless her, she didn’t realize what she’d done. I slowly put on a bottle green dress and got in her car “I’m here mother” I greeted her. She looked at me through the rear view mirror while touching up her lipstick “Good, put on your seatbelt Ab”. I gave a hearty chuckle before replying with “It’s not like I can die again” but she didn’t seem to hear me. Oh well, it’s not my fault she missed the hint.

 We reached the daycare in about 15 minutes, and I gave her a swift hug before walking through the door covered in colorful paintings. Ah, as always, the place was wrapped in a blanket of those vivid doodles too flamboyant for my liking. Then again, I’m not a human child who would understand the appeal behind those, am I? A dark young guy approached me and offered to take me to a room with loads of toys. “I work here” said the guy as he gently took my hand and led me to the playroom. “Yeah I surmised as much” I replied, only to hear him chortle and say “Wow, you sure know some big words”. I was used to people telling me this, so I said nothing. He dropped me off at the children’s room, and I smirked as I saw the amount of wee, little, naive children there. One of them seemed to have noticed, as he walked up to me and said “Hello! You’re new right? I’m Frankie, we can be friends!”. I hesitated a little, truth be told. On the one hand, this person looked a little too exuberant for my liking. On the other hand though, he’d be a great guy to help initiate the plan. I returned his warm smile and introduced myself. 

We became, for the lack of a better term, friends real quick, for I did not feel an ounce of affection for him. This was my only chance at fulfilling my dearest ambition, so I talked to him so as to get to know what children his age are like. He told me he was non-binary (well that was unexpected) and that their toy dinosaurs had bitten them once. I found it very hard to not fall asleep as they recounted all of their wild imaginations with their toys. I glanced at the clock and knew I had to act fast.

 I tapped them on the arm, in the pretext of asking them for a doll, but as soon as my skin made contact with theirs, their face fell, their body became loose, and their skin acquired a dull grey color, as if they were to rot. The other children were too absorbed in their own worlds to notice this, while my insides were burning with triumph. I swiftly locked the door, approached the other children, and contaminated them all. My own skin was starting to show its true colors at last, as it achieved the same dull grey tone. 

This was it. This was what I had been working for all these years. I finally had my own army of zombies who would help me get a taste of power. Just in time, I saw Esther, my mother, come back from her silly party through the window which I had just drawn the curtains from. I unlocked the door, as she came up to the playroom. “Absinthe dear, mommy’s here, time to go back home” she said, as she fussed about with the clasp of her handbag, stopping abruptly at the sight of my newly formed army. “Meet my new friends, mommy” I said, in a sinister tone barely above a whisper, as she collapsed in a gleaming pile of sweat. 

[moonlit-solivagant-deactivated2]

If @notnee had a character introduction

Imagine a stage where you had lights shining on you from all directions, making you feel like the center of attention (you know the loved) but not the kind that blinds you the moment it hits you, its the kind that makes you feel as if you radiate that energy. That’s exactly how she made people around her feel, she herself should be allowed to feel that way too but severe ego crush and non-existent self esteem has left the most loving the least loved. I just wanted to hug her and comfort her and listen to her talk about her life, Harry Styles and poetry all day because she did that with everyone but no one did that for her.

The words she writes they drip blood when she is attacked and spill tears in a stranger’s eye too when she is sad, but no matter what she writes words pour out of her in the most spectacular manner that makes you feel that she isn’t even trying.

She is like a star; bright and beautiful but also distant, faraway and even melancholic to an extent. I want to get up in the school cafeteria, take the mic and shout at everyone for not appreciating her because the moment she will stop smiling at you, you’ll realize what you lost.

[notnee]

If I was a character

[notnee]

You kind of miss as you stared at nothing for weeks meanwhile your heart was sinking deep, deep, and deeper. Into this hole of unknowingness.

You kind of miss,

looking in the mirror and the person was someone you had never met.

The two purple half-moons stamped under both of her eyes made you wonder what caused them.

Her tale had seams you haven't seen; it was coloured with fabric in shades you've never worn; it had pockets heavy with worry; it was a story that didn't hold just your fears, but hers too, to threads of it pulling it tighter each day.

You kind of miss,

balling your eyes out crying, and scratching yourself using sharper blades.

When you looked down to see a pool of blood and purple bruises after weeks.

"W-what was it this time? Was it the terrible friendship breakup that you were going through or the one time you couldn't read in class? Or the one time someone called you fat after you starved for weeks. Or you named this situation and said as I-as I "I love you and you don't and this is how I cope"

You kind of miss,

the emptiness that would bore into you for months. The feel of thinking about something, but not know what that thing was.

You kind of miss,

those sleepless nights too, now that you are so alien to soundly sleeping.

You kind of miss,

dressing up in unwashed clothes picked up from the laundry from days ago.

The feel of exertion as you put the seventh cup of coffee in you but nothing helps you to get up from the bed that you were sitting on since countless hours passed by in the blink of a second.

You kind of miss,

laying in your bed pretending to sleep all day when all you did was shove self-hate-related thoughts so deep that I--- that I hate to confess, but that was just an attempt.

You kind of miss not smiling

You kind of miss not being a people pleaser.

You kind of miss not having the burden glued to your back about people judging you. Because this time both of you are on the same side.

B-but How could you heal in the culture which ennobles self-hate?

Actually,

You protected your sadness as if they were the most talented kids and perhaps you were just proud to keep something alive even if it was your pain.

But it's okay. It's okay that you keep telling yourself. You kind of keep telling yourself that you don't miss it, that you don't want to be so miserable again.

But then it's almost inevitable how much you do because it taught you how to fall down in a bajallion pieces and acting like you are glued together too tight to even crack at the strongest hit to the wall.

[moonlit-solivagant-deactivated2]

Inspired by this is me trying by taylor swift

Something should be wrong if all you know are ways to avoid speaking,

something should be right if you are found smiling all day,

something should be wrong if having a self-esteem is a crisis existential,

but it doesn't matter because all these cages are mental.

Something should be wrong if you are found only in your room,

something should be right if you are friends with everyone,

something should be wrong if thinking makes you tremble,

but it doesn't matter because all these cages are mental.

Something should be wrong if you can't remember the last meal you had,

something should be right if people compliment you all the time,

something should be wrong if the passing of time makes you even more sentimental,

but it doesn't matter because all these cages are mental.

Something should be wrong if having friends is an idea too ancient,

something should be right if you obey everything your parents say,

something should be wrong if being happy is merely accidental,

but it doesn't matter because all these cages are mental.

People don't understand that getting through the day is an achievement.

People have an opinion on everything even when it's unasked form

Just let me live and stop being judgemental,

because no, my cages are not mental.

[notnee]

this is her trying

[notnee]

I stood there, weeping. My back stinging and burning because of a heavy hand that striked it a few seconds ago. The hair on my body rose. I felt cold as the air around me suddenly blocked out everything. Slowly whispering its sound in my ears. A tear streamed down my cheek. I didn’t fear anything. Thinking of the worse didn’t hurt anymore. Because all this time I had learnt to live with it.

The reason was same. The assailants were the same. The victim was the same. It felt as if the air brought back all the memories of every time this happend. It reeled in the back of my mind. Every time something indiscreet slipped out of my mouth, I would be shitted on and sometimes even hit. I am not a human with a heart I guess. Maybe I deserve it. My vision got blurry.

Why am I expected to be a certain way. More importantly what they want. I can’t possibly make choices of my own and not hold accountability of them. Maybe I wasn’t good enough to make those choices in the first place. Everyday I am reminded of how much they love me, how much they try to make my life a better place to live in because they have an “experience” which I lack. They have “seen more of the world and its ugly side”. Every time they hurt me, they take me out or do something that I like as if it were a reward of getting hurt. It always looked like a golden opportunity as I didn’t ask for anything anyways. I don’t understand where I can work on myself.

I suddenly got back to my senses and walked myself till the mirror. The person in the reflection I saw appeared weak, broken. Her eyes filled up with salty tears just like a wave hitting the shore and then going back. Her slowly fading tears looked like drops of dew settling on the top of a leaf. I stopped staring my reflection and washed my face. The cold water stinging my already hot face which felt like it were a dead person with blood covered features.

I looked at my reflection again. “I will always be there with you, no matter what happens. I will always remember the good in you.” And then I stormed out of the bathroom.

[notnee]

because I touched you while you were asleep

I chugged cold iced water while watching my parents fight. I felt sick as my father threw my mom's phone and it hit the sturdy everlasting wooden chair.

Tears ran down my mothers cheeks as she saw the remnants of the broken electronic. As if it was her heart that had shattered because of the ire induced by her forced other half.

I started shivering as my mother took the keys of car and tried to run outside when the tears turned into whispering sobs. Something in her mind told her to stop and she did. She went on to go upstairs. I turned away.

She had drawn from a well that looked empty now. there is not always more to take, i thought. Sometimes so much can be taken that what is left doesn't matter.

I just see things being in her position and how hard it feels.

I stared into nothing, being distracted of how feared I felt. How much i just wanted to run away-- my thoughts were interrupted because of the chill that was dancing on my spine until i started trembling again.

I wasn't affected that much by this because it keeps happening each day. It gets worse day by day.

----