It’s such a lazy day today.  With this cold and cough, I stayed in bed and watched a few episodes of a Korean drama, and wrote/edited my project. 

I regret nothing.

PS:  Thank you, Holy Names University for the free shirt and teddy bear.  I’ll never forget winning that raffle at your open house when I first considered transferring schools.  But I plan to leave my heart in SFSU.

—She’s a bitch.

When she is around, she envelops you in a phantom-like fashion.  The striking shiver she sends up your spine is enough to clench your teeth together almost past their shattering threshold.  Sometimes you mistake it for a thrill, and sometimes you anticipate her very presence after a heated absence, but the ultimate feeling you muster for her is bone-tingling.  To each their own.

What she is, is bitter.  You know she knows that now that she’s returned, you wish she hadn’t.  And as the time passes, no one acknowledges the issue because, why ruin the holidays?  After all, you only tread on thin ice when her breath at your ear or your neck is the first thing you feel in the morning, and all you want is to burrow deeper under the covers.  Oh, but she keeps at it.  Her haunting demeanor to want to cuddle every damn second is relentless.  Every new morning, as you divorce from your warm bed, you keep her off your back by shrugging on an old sweater, one that she could care less for.  Without fail, the atmosphere grows stale, as does her bitterness.

But she’s desperate for company since no one else takes a liking to her once she’s overstayed her welcome, so she sticks around.  Thanksgiving has passed, and Christmas is just a snowfall away.  During this fragment of time, she’s bearable, you admit.  In fact, she’s the one who prompts the overdue, warm embraces from those you haven’t seen a while.  Unintentionally, she gathers you and the rest of the party around the fire, harboring old memories of which she was only a ghost in.  It dawns on her: she was never a big part of your life; she’s practically invisible.  just when you’re finally enjoying yourself, you look over and she’s giving you the shoulder.

You’re speechless when she storms out.  The room is rendered silent by the sound of havoc rattling beyond its walls.  Only gasps rebound the halls when the lights go out.  The feet beneath you freeze in place, your hands shake for a fleeting second before you shove them into your pockets.  A sharp pang of pain implodes in your chest when you see her tears in the window’s reflection.  It’s these moments you realize how much she affects you.

How she makes you feel…reminiscent.

A buddy can’t bear the tension that’s building so he goes to crack a window.  As if on cue, all hell breaks loose.

You bound towards the chaos without hesitation.  Precious photos of your loved ones scatter the floor like confetti, coats are hurled across the length of the room, and if you aren’t careful with your actions, go soaring will your head go—how can you possibly take care of the commotion?  Either you wait for her to dial it down, or you run the risk of dampening the holidays in one fell swoop in order to save whatever feelings you have left towards her.

At first, you decide to not overstep the boundaries, but once you see that dependable bike that you had always picked up your ex-girlfriend, the love of your life, with but can never seem to find a good reason to use anymore, in the midst of all the blunder, you stupidly chase after the whirlwind of fury.

Head on you face her, in spite of the blistering vibe she’s glaring your way.  Her very voice whips and cuts you down to size; you can hardly get a words in. She slams the front door in your face, the force strong enough to surely do some damage.

You can tolerate the messes she leaves behind and her infectious seasonal flus, and you crave for her when you get hot, but when she’s at her extreme worst, the flashbacks come at you in short bursts: the snowed-in car situation, the plane delays and the on-board turbulence, the blackouts that she clearly were, and still are responsible for.  She definitely knew how to make your life a living hell.

The only thing she could ever produce for you was her shoulder, and even then you don’t want it.

Not when she’s a constant reminder of someone you will never have again.  Someone you lost because of her.

Just as sudden as it happened, she stops.  You find your eyes are clamped shut, and when you open them she’s gone.  Just like that.  As you trudge through yet another fresh mess she’s made, you see there’s no sign of her up or down the street.

The guests at the house stand on the front steps, mouths agape and eyes the size of quarters.  Down the block, your bike is propped up against a tree, mangled and beyond repair.

With a scoff, you cross your arms and shake your head to yourself, skeptic.

She’ll be back, you believe, whether or not you like it.  She always does, and the whole process repeats all over again.  You stare down at your bike one more time.

One thing’s for sure: Cold’s a bitch.

yeahwriters:

Write about the sensation of being cold, without being cliche.

Read followers’ works inspired by this prompt:

• Blue Space by thedrawbridge
• Shiver and Shake by Tea-and-Sarcasm
• Cold by vomitinkonpaper

yeahwriters:

Eavesdropping in public places are great for observing and being inspired by dialogue. Starbucks and other coffee shops (support small businesses!) are great because they are places people go specifically to chat, but people won’t be weirded out if you’re sitting a couple feet away, typing away on your laptop.

Sometimes you have to be a creeper to become a better writer, but hey, writer’s are all a little creepy to begin with anyway ;)

Listen to some people talking in a coffee place and write a story based on their conversation. What can you speculate about their lives based on what you’ve heard?

I’ll do this one day.

(via bookworm73)