Part One: Complaints:
(Yes there is a better, more interesting, more positive Part Two, keep reading!)
I am struggling to stay positive today, which isn’t a good sign for the week ahead of me.
I would like a master reset on the month of October if that is at all possible.
Why so gloom? Well, I made a list about it, because if you know me at all you know list-making is my coping mechanism for life in general.
Monday list of things that shouldn’t matter but do…
1): I’m sick of feeling like a general bummer and complaining too much about unimportant things that I can’t stop focusing on (is this not the most ironic bullet point to expect on a list like this?)
2): I’m also sick of constantly equating my self-worth with what the scale says, and at the same time equally sick of my recent lack of self-control in the eating department. Why do my looks matter so much right now, why not more important things, like, I don’t know, my highly invasive ultrasound scheduled for my lunchbreak today??
3): I am in severe need of more self-control for everything in my life, moderation has completely disappeared and it’s starting to get scary.
Now that you’ve suffered through my mental release, (and thank you for putting up with me if you’ve made it this far into this mundane Monday-centric post), I have a fun writing prompt and follow up!!
Writers, if you have some free time today and/or need a creative release, you should try it.
My theory here is creativity keeps the mind busy and fruitful, so instead of complaining all day I’m going to get to work and flip that mental switch to something halfway productive.
Part Two: Creativity
Prompt: Show the confusion between desperation and happiness in a character in 200 words or less.
The lines on her wrists were quickly forming partly blueish, mostly greenish shapes that resembled elongated hot dogs, the feeling that followed the shapes reminding her of a warm campfire somewhere from her distant memory.
Blood rushed to her throat mercifully as her breathing steadied and she gripped the spots where his hands lay just three minutes ago.
Loud thumping from the room next door meant he was gearing up or calming down, she never knew which it would be.
She hoped he was gearing up.
The words of her former best friend swirled around her memory like a fine bourbon in a freshly iced glass. . . ‘He’s sick. You’re sick. You both need help. You need out’.
A laugh escaped her mouth, striking the air around her with such contrast that she was immediately taken aback from the noise, suddenly afraid and excited he would hear it and come back angry.
She knew she deserved what she was getting, and she loved that he cared enough to keep giving it to her. He was her rock, and she was working on breaking him as much as he was breaking her.
It would all play out perfectly in the end.