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Over the past year, I defeated a fear of other people, learned the value of clarity and brevity, fought writer's block, and developed pride in my words.

Now I am a writer with a love for onomatopoeias and an affinity for semicolons.

Message to Readers

This is the sequel to a piece called 'Licorice' that I wrote a little while ago. If this doesn't make sense, now you know why.

Any feedback is greatly appreciated!


August 28, 2017


    He sits on the couch of his dirty, one bedroom apartment. The various city noises surrounding his building permeate the walls; it is never quiet. A cheap pair of headphones cover his ears, an unknown song from an unpopular artist blasting. The lights are off. It is dark. The only color in the room comes from three jellybeans, squished between the couch cushions.
‚Äč    It's late, the hour of stressed undergrad students and internet junkies. He knows that he has to be at work tomorrow, and that if he's late another day his boss will take him off the schedule. Instead, he chooses to sit on his couch, closing his eyes but refusing to sleep in an act of defiance to the hour. He nods his head to the beat.
    This isn't where he wanted to be. He escaped on a bus, many, many months ago, away from a grey, monotone city where no one cared and no one mattered. Now here he was, sitting in an apartment much like the one he left behind. Huh, he thinks to himself, maybe history really does repeat itself. He'll move again soon.
    There are dark circles under his eyes, evidence of the nightmares that plague him. It's the same one every time. His mother is crying, fresh blood flowing from her nose, faint bruises visible around her neck. There is the sound of a bottle breaking from somewhere in the background. An angry man comes into the frame, stinking of alcohol. Then it all goes white, and he wakes up, a sweaty, tangled mess.
    What sticks with him, though, in the middle of the day when the nightmare is long gone, is what his mother says. It's always the same line, repeated over and over. It echoes through his brain, laced with guilt and edged with fear.
    Why did you leave me?

He always has to struggle to find an answer.


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  • August 28, 2017 - 7:55pm (Now Viewing)

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