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"the audience is only safe when the story isn't about them."

they/them - probably listening to sufjan stevens

Message from Writer

an important piece by outoftheblue- https://bit.ly/3dBxv5r

black lives matter & pride is over but the fight for lgbt+ rights is year round.

bio quote is from the magnus archives

sugar plum nightmares

September 17, 2019


do you ever wonder if your dog would be happier with someone else? this is how it goes: first my dreams are silly, cartoon whistling between the gaps in my baby teeth; then they are the aftertaste of a food i haven't had in years, creeping up my throat during mid-day social studies; then they are pirated memories, shards of this and that hastily glued together and soon peeling away. i wake at six in the morning with confusion leaving striped morning shadows through my blinds. like this: in last night's dream, it was the original "we"; faces i could recite in my sleep, i mean, and my throat wasn't sore from unspoken monologues. did that ever happen?

but i digress: do you ever wonder if your dog would be happier with someone else? and by that i mean that that is what my dreams are about, that is what i was getting at with "pirated memories peeling away". sometimes dogs are only a dulled memory, an interstate exit that i only gave a passing glance to. sometimes i am the someone my dog is happier with, and i live in indiana and go to open mic nights with my boarding school friends every friday. or else i live in arizona and play soccer in the red dust, or i live under the plastic sun of suburbia, or i am living my own life but someone else was cast in my part.

and do you ever wonder why we put questions marks at the end of our questions, even when what we're asking isn't really a question, even when every year feels like one long question, written in permanent marker but too smudged to read? and by that i mean that that is what my dreams are about, worlds where i am at the thanksgiving table and the question is written in clear blue sharpie on the family calendar, and we all go around sharing our answers. i wake up outside the frosted glass once more, and i can no longer remember what my answer was or even what the calendar said.

this is how it goes: first my dreams are silly; then they are an aftertaste; then they are worlds where i live in indiana with my dog and faces i could recite in my sleep, and i have an answer every thanksgiving.  

i haven't published anything in a while so i thought i'd put this out there, just so people know i'm still alive, and then get back to working on my reviews and contest prizes. thanks for reading, and if you enjoyed, please, please leave a comment! comments support writers much more than likes do. 


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  • ajamwal

    why are your titles so hooking, i literally can't miss them :p please keep writing your wonderful words.

    about 1 year ago
  • jaii

    this is absolutely delightful. your words are always so powerful and enjoyable

    about 1 year ago
  • Anha

    woahoho. this is chillingly introspective. your writing always has a certain element to it; when i read it, i'm completely immersed in a world that's not quite our own; like meeting a fae, so similar; something's not right, and yet you are drawn to it. your words are written in shadow, and that's part of their beauty. absolutely loved the existentialism in this piece.

    about 1 year ago