Tag Archives: drabble

Describing the color red without using the word itself : a tiny writing exercise for myself I guess

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It’s the first color that greeted me when I walked into that room.

It’s the fire I felt spreading across my face when I remembered I hadn’t worn the prescribed dress code for Fridays.

 

It’s the raging inferno that constricted my lungs when I saw you for the first time.

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You, who wore that garish shade and made it seem as if the intensity was crafted just to compliment your alabaster skin.

 

It’s the subtle glow in your cheeks when you talk, completely oblivious to the fact that you have me enthralled with every flick of your hair. (For what seemed like an eternity, I am captivated. I can’t look away.)

When finally (regrettably), the class ends; I’m still swimming in that shade of your lips that held my attention throughout the whole day. (Even if I never really did get a chance to hear what they had to say.)

It’s the sudden jolt of panic in my chest when we accidentally exchange glances from across the room (don’t ever turn) -and I immediately look away.

(No, I didn’t mean it- I need to see your eyes again.)

 

It’s the heady mixture of giddiness and paranoia in my head when you change seats by chance -in front of me- (so fucking near, so fucking far away) on the last day of the semester.

It’s the streak of ink that marked my paper, when I finish the test earlier than intended and run away.

 

It’s the figurative flames I use to burn the few pointless memories I have of you in my head.

It’s the persistent flicker of embers that refuse to die each time I try.

It’s the vibrant hue of the little trinkets scattered all over campus on valentines when I regret not catching even a glimpse of your lean, wispy frame.

It’s the the color that would then annoy me for days.

It’s the frantic pulsing in my ears every time I see you walking at least five steps ahead.

It’s the silly shame that drowns me when I think that, between the two of us, I’m probably the only one who cares.

It’s the warmth of the sinking sun the last time I cross paths with you on my way home.

It’s the sensation I felt leaving me when I realize this might be the last day I’ll see your face.

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a day in the life of ID’

Daily Prompt: Make Your Own Planet

assembler_by_Kosmur

Everything’s quiet now.

I know this kind of quiet. Been living for quite a while up here, it’s hard not to memorize the patterns.

The silence was a welcome reprieve from the colorful chaos of the atmosphere- not that I didn’t like the almost constant buzz of activity. But sometimes quiet often make the land and the sky even more beautiful afterwards, splashing it with a thousand possible lives, universes- galaxies!- to dive into. Some new, some old favorites I’ve stayed in for years.

Oh, we don’t actually have lands and skies. It’s just a concept I’ve seen, one of those times when the atmosphere felt like being solid and stable, imitating another far away. I’ve also learned from another place that had flying circles and bizarre looking creatures said long dead- but living for eternity- of the term ‘atmosphere‘. It seemed like the perfect word to apply on everything that’s happening around me.

I have a lot of friends too. Some live in this planet with me. Some in the other places our atmosphere create. My friends from here think it’s foolish, considering these other creatures from an ‘illusion‘ (that’s debatable, I said) my friends. But we have a lot of fun, these other friends of mine. I have a hunch that they’re imitations of some other entities, only they’re better. Don’t ask me how, I just know.

Know, in exactly the same way I know the vague rules in my planet. Go to sleep when you need to. Stop exploring this other planet when it triggers the transition to some other planet we’d rather not see. Love, or rather ponder on the absence of it and what it really means. Learn, although this is highly subjective because sometimes the things I need to learn and things I want to are completely different things. Nothing concrete. They’re more or less guidelines that we flow through day by day. It’s like we’re sustaining the existence of some other universe, so that it can function with other universes and form their own galaxies.

From the other planets I’ve explored I do know this existence is far from normal. But we can imitate theirs for a while, so when has my planet ever been normal?

Oh, there goes the clock. Time to sleep, you say?

Okay.

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Skinship

temprate

It makes me uncomfortable.

There. There, I fucking said it.

 

I was raised in a family where hugs only happen once or twice a year when I was five then pretty much none when I passed twelve. (Now before you assume I had a shitty childhood, it was awesome actually. I didn’t like touching, even back then.)

I’ve had few very close friends in my short seventeen years of life, none of whom are inclined to hair-fondling, shoulder-to-head-leaning, hand-holding, body-hugging, cheek-kissing, and other forms of casual physical contact.

Is this me over thinking things again? Yes, yes it is. I tend to do that a lot. It’s a sick habit that I sometimes love and sometimes want to stab the shit out of. Because really, who puts too much thought into the simple act of linking fingers between same-sex platonic friends, enough to write a blog post about it? Who the fuck even freezes at the slightest arm-over-your-shoulders-in-a-loose-friendly-way action?

Me, that’s who.

I know that shit about accepting oneself and all, plus the mantra that it’s okay to be different, but dear gods I just can’t get over the fact that some people can do this without giving it a second thought while a million pointless buzzfeeds run through my mind.

So now I’m trying to figure out why. I need to give myself a leeway and purge this out of my head.

Plausible Reasons Why I am Uncomfortable With Casual Skinship

 1. I over think things.

Like I said, I pay too much attention to irrelevant details. It’s another one of those instances where I know I’m not supposed to analyze too much but I still end up doing so, which in turn gives way to more resentful thinking. I don’t want to offend anyone, I don’t want anyone to think I’m weird either.

2. I have never been in any honest to goodness romantic relationship.

Maybe people get used to this kind of thing after frolicking in the romance department with someone. I don’t know. Is it supposed to help? Will the consciousness for physical interaction lessen when you do it frequently?

I have no answers.

3. I’m a maniac.

I’m well known in high school for my less-than-innocent musings (read: I am well known for being a pervert, *in spirit*). Though it’s a source of a lot of laughs for everyone (myself included) when I twist things into a comical-sexual context, being an auto-perv-filter has its disadvantages. Not only do I over think things, I see them in a perverse light too.

I’m like, ‘Shit I know I’m not supposed to be thinking this but I am oh god no brain don’t go there BAD BRAIN, BAD! Go back to your corner.’ (This is what’s going on inside while I am freezing rigid and expressionless.)

Like, I don’t even like him/her that way or ever seen him/her that way but SURPRISE INNER BRAIN THEATER FLASH!

It sucks.

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Now I’ve gotten that out of the way, I hope I can move on from this topic and not fucking trip or break out into a messy sweat whenever I experience such. I might add a few others when they crop up again.

Let me clear this up: I appreciate the act itself. I appreciate the idea that you’re comfortable enough to do this with me. I appreciate that, without even thinking about it that much, you reflexively reach out for my hand or sling your arm around mine.  I just don’t know what to think or how to stop thinking about it too much.  Yeah well, now I type this out to think why I think about it an awful lot. [THINKCEPTION] (I am very confused right now.)

Hopefully no one is offended. Or creeped out.

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