#108 - You and I

Today’s words: Pigeon, China, Satan, Scallop

Word count: 250

Completion time: 23 minutes

--

Why do we torment and criticise other animals

For being inferior? Looking at the world through different eyes,

See, they aren’t like you and I, they don’t feel like we feel

Their pain isn’t recognised, who cares if they die?

People screw their faces up, at little pups in China

Who get served alongside a variety of food.

Not to be rude, but I’m over the line of thought

That is shocked and appalled by yet another animal...

Yet another innocent life we carve up with knives

And say it’s alright, it’s justified, because

They don’t feel like you and I.



A pigeon was sat on a bench the other day

And someone kicked it away like it could contaminate,

Like it would be great if they could be cast away

Like Satan from the heavens. Why?

They didn’t disobey but they have no say because why?

They can’t speak like you and I?

Judge like you and I?



We don’t need to buy something to think that we own it

No cash needs to change hands to know we can have it

The scallops on the beach, the ocean deep

Everything we see, we claim just by looking.

We take parts of the world and reduce them to nothing

Just by looking

I look to you and see myself reflected right back

We’re on the attack, you and I

We don’t give a fuck, you and I

It’s in our nature to rely

On things that can’t fight back.

#107 - Monkey

Today’s words: Sausages, Monkey, Ambivalent, Hearty

Word count: 117

Completion time: 17 minutes

--

You’ll find me on the monkey bars

I’ll have a banana between my teeth

And my dress will have a roll of fabric

Cellotaped to the skirt

Because I am a monkey



I can be as hearty as I want

I can say I want ten sausages

For breakfast

And no-one will find that weird

Because kids are silly



Kids are allowed to be ambivalent

Kids are allowed to have no direction

Allowed to run around in circles

And collapse wherever they like

Because they have no responsibilities



So that’s why you’ll find me in the park

On the climbing frame

Holding my head high with pride

As I cross the monkey bars

For the ninth time

#106 - Goodbye, Camp, Gay Male

Today’s words: Exorcism, piercing, rainbow, Chanel

Word count: 108

Completion time: 19 minutes

Summary: Stupid stereotypes

--

Hello, camp, gay man trope

Hello to your feminine style

Tight jeans, tight top

Fashion designer look

Chanel, Armani, Gucci

Hello, epitome of rainbows

Everything fabulous

Flamboyant

Hello, flick of the wrist

Hello, high pitched laugh

Hello, right ear right queer piercing



I want to perform an exorcism on you

I want everyone to see

That underneath that feminine fashion

It’s possible to be gay

Without being camp.



I want to force the two apart

Stop them from being synonymous

Because when you say someone’s ‘really gay’

You mean camp

And when you say someone’s camp

You think they’re gay



Stop.

This is not accurate gay representation

...Stop.

#105 - Full Moon

Today’s words: Hermit, Obsequious, Moscow, Squelch

Word count: 126

Completion time: 9 minutes

--

We all want approval.

It’s human nature to

Want to be accepted;

From the obsequious teacher’s pet

To the condemned hermit

Who longs to possess the social skills

Required to make and sustain friendships.

There is always a social hierarchy

No matter how much you ignore it.

If you’re ‘normal’, you’ll probably be okay

If you’re ‘unusual’, you get pushed away

Given less opportunities

To make an impression.



Sometimes it feels like

Being yourself isn’t enough;

Whether you’re a lesbian in Moscow

Or a teenaged girl being looked down on.

Squelch.

They walk all over you.

Tell you what you should be

Even though you can’t be

You

...You’re worth so much more than

Public opinion.

You’re a full moon

In a stream of falling stars.

#104 - Girls Only

Today’s words: Lesbian, Melancholy, Sorbet, Submission

Word count: 400

Completion time: 26 minutes

Summary: Sexuality isn’t as black and white as it seems

--

I’m sat in the conservatory, listening to the stabbing drops of rain and spooning strawberry sorbet, pretending that it’s summer. Everything seems a little brighter then.

My eyes are closed to forget the melancholy mood and I’m sat on a beach under a parasol, watching children run around in swimsuits that are too big for them, hair stuck to their faces from the sea and sweat, and, as if to interrupt me, he pops into my head again.

I’m forced to submission as the cold dessert hits my back tooth and a sharp, searing pain runs through my mouth. Winching, I tilt my head and try to focus on the beach again, eyes squinted in the thirty-degree sun. My skin prickles with goosebumps and I think harder – the excited voices, the sandcastles, the sea, him emerging from it, eyes glinting as he stares at me.

I drop the spoon and suck the sweet flavour from my tongue.

I’m not supposed to have these feelings. I told everyone that I was a lesbian years ago, so I can’t go back on it now. I can’t let them think that I did it just for attention, to get guys to like me, or because I wanted a free pass to make out with girls. It had been seven months now, seven months since I first met him, seven months since I tried to stop him from entering my head. Out of bounds, you know? Girls only.

Once you come out, it feels like there’s no going back. You’ve said it, out loud. You’ve told everyone you’re this, meaning you’re not anything else. What’s worse is...the people who said it was just a phase...they’ll think they were right all along when that isn’t the case. I can tell them that they don’t know me at all, they’ll reply with, “You don’t even know yourself.”

I wrap my hands around myself and lightly squeeze my upper arms.

Fuck it. Fuck labels. I’m not going to restrict myself just because the ‘lesbian’ tag says I’m not allowed. Do Not Remove. Like the label on mattresses. Fuck, I’m not a mattress, I’m a person...a person who has the ability to change her mind, no matter what people conclude.

Picking up the spoon again, I scoop the last sloshy red bits from the cup and press them against the roof of my mouth.

I’ll tell him tomorrow.

#103 - You Let Me Fall

Today’s words: Arm, Waterfall, Wood, Paddock

Word count: 980

Completion time: 43 minutes

Summary: We’re free to let anyone in, but it always come with a risk


--


Based on a true story...

I don’t think that people realise the power they have over other people. In this big ol’ world with infinite planets, stars, and galaxies, how can one insignificant person cause another to change their entire outlook, see things through a brand new pair of eyes? I don’t know; but they can. One person’s words or actions can mean the difference between a trickle of water from a tap and a waterfall plunging into an ocean.

As a kid, my life was far from great. I bet a ton of people say that, right? Same old sob stories: I was never popular, I was bullied, I couldn’t fit in etcetera but just because so many of them exist doesn’t stop them from being less important. Yes, I was at the bottom of the social pile, yes I was bullied, and yes I definitely didn’t fit it. It was horrible, something you won’t understand until you’ve lived it.

Anyway, I didn’t have anyone to turn to (no friends, nothing) until I met him in year eight. Oliver. He sort of changed my life, that boy. We had a wood surrounding our school that we weren’t really allowed in during school hours, but the teachers didn’t do anything because it was still on the school grounds. It was there that I saw a blonde-haired boy with sitting on a fallen log, bent over something. I stopped walking so as not to disturb him, but my heel came into contact with a twig that snapped when I put it down. He immediately turned around.

We didn’t say anything to each other for a while, just stared. I didn’t know what to say and he was probably thinking the same.

He stood, picked a book up, and started to walk swiftly in the opposite direction.

“Hey, wait, what are you reading?” I don’t know why I called out to him: I didn’t know who he was and I didn’t really want company, either.

He stopped. “Romeo and Juliet,” he replied, confused. Maybe he didn’t know why he was talking to me, either. “What do you want?”

I didn’t know. I should have just let him walk on, maybe that would have changed everything. “Are you always hanging out here on your own?”

Now he looked suspicious. “...Are you?”

“Sometimes.”

We both just stared at each other again.

“I’m Emily.”

“I’m Oliver.”

Oliver didn’t have many friends either, so we got close. Soon enough, he became my best friend (even though I had no others to compare him to). People would make fun of him for hanging out with me because I was ‘the weird kid’ but he just took my arm and walked to our favourite lunch spot. I felt free when I was with him, like I could do anything ‘weird’ and he’d always have my back.

A few months later, he told me that he was gay. All I did was smile and hug him, seeing that it was obviously hard to say out loud.

“You don’t hate me?”

“Why would I hate you? You’re my best friend.” I loved calling him my best friend out loud, and I loved him just the same.

He exhaled and hugged me tighter. I never wanted to let him go, not ever. I would protect him just as much as he protected me.

His parents were not so sympathetic, being strict Christians who opposed anything that deviated from heterosexuality. There was no way that he could tell them – he’d probably be kicked out or worse. Things don’t always go the way we plan them though – after looking through his room one day, his dad found his diary and all hell broke loose.

He was no longer safe in his own home, so I offered him my place to stay but his parents wouldn’t allow it. They didn’t want him around but at the same time, they didn’t want him to leave. Then, they announced that they were moving to Cornwall, a whole county away.

I kept in touch with him though, we emailed or texted every day for a couple of years and he was still my best friend. We met in person several times too, which was always something to look forward to.

After a while, he started to become sarcastic towards me, and he’d say nasty things but follow them with a tongue smiley so it’d come across as a joke. I waved it off, blaming his family situation or his frustration at having to hide his sexuality...but they got worse.

He would make ‘jokes’ about things I told him years ago, things that I was still trying to get over, things that people would say in the playground, personal shit that I haven’t told anyone else, things that he knew would hurt me more than anything else he could say. I didn’t break until he blamed my personality and my size for my lack of friends, real friends. All I remember after hearing that is smashing my phone and opening my front door. When my mind caught up with me, I was six miles out of town, barefoot, in a horse paddock.

It took a while for me to delete him permanently from my life, because he was the first person who sincerely wanted to be a part of it in the first place, but I had to. He was toxic and I needed to get rid of him before I got rid of myself.

Ever since, I’ve been very careful who I tell things to, and I won’t let people get close until I’ve known them for years. I wish it didn’t have to be that way, but it is.

You all...you have so much power, more than you know...so please be careful with how you use it, because I would never wish the pain I felt on anyone, not even him.

#102 - Say Something

Today’s words: Candle, Rash, Clown, Turf

Word count: 844

Completion time: 48 minutes

Summary: It’s easy to joke about rape, it’s even easier to be a rape apologist, but if you don’t say something...all you’re doing is saying it’s okay.

TW: mentions of sexual assault

--

Based on a true story...

The first time, it was whilst you were playing a video game:

“Man, I am raping you so hard right now! I own you, man!”

“Hey shut up, I’m just out of practice...”

“You’re on my turf now and you’re about to die. Take that!”

The second time, you were on your way home from a club:

“Oh man, stop being such a... a....”

“A what?”

“I dunno, a clown.”

“Haha, what? You see a red nose and a big bow tie? I’m being serious. Wouldn’t you want to touch a girl if they were wearing a short skirt? Come on, you know they want it, I’ve seen the way they dance. That’s what grinding means – they want your dick, so you give it to them.”

The third time, you were watching a movie:

“If a girl ever disrespected me like this bitch, I’d stick it so far up her ass she’d be tasting my cum for months.”

“If she’d even let you near her ass.”

“Like I’d let her get away, more like it.”

All innocent comments. Neil would never actually do anything like that, you thought, because he was your friend...your best friend, in fact. Why would someone you have so much fun with ever do something like that? Everyone jokes, you can’t have a go at someone for a joke, no matter how offensive and misogynistic they are.

The fourth time though, that was different.

One night, Neil decided to invite everyone back to his house after a warehouse party got cancelled. It was you, Neil, Jessica, and Katie, plus some other mates that you didn’t know that well. There was only a bottle of wine in the house, so everyone made do and sucked from the same bottle all night. Not you though, you were more interested in talking to a girl that had started coming onto you.

After a few hours, the ‘party’ dispersed and only the four of you were left. Since it was getting pretty late, you all decided to go to bed – you and Neil in his room, Jessica and Katie in the spare room. All you could think about was the girl that had somehow disappeared with the rest of the party, so you spilled everything to Neil, asking him if he knew her, if he thought you had a chance with her, how goddamn pretty she was.

“Oh, will you shut up?” Neil said, getting out of bed and scratching his back. “Fucking rash... Listen, I’m gonna see how the girls are doing so just go to sleep, okay?”

In the morning, you were woken by a feminine voice shouting in the next room, shortly followed by Neil’s voice. Confused and not quite awake, you stayed in bed and listened to what they were shouting about. All you could figure out was that Neil had done something bad that the girl was angry about. Typical really, you thought.

When the shouting was over, a door slammed shut and Neil came into the bedroom again.

“What was that about? Who was that?” you asked.

Neil waved his hand in the air as if to dismiss the inquiry. “Just Nadine. Christ...”

“What did you do?”

“You know Katie? I ended up in bed next to her, touched her a bit, and now they’re all angry.” He started pacing up and down the room, kicking at the rug.

“What do you mean?”

“I had Nadine banging on my front door at eight in the morning because Katie had texted her about it.”

“Why was she so angry?”

“Frigid or whatever. I can tell when a girl wants it, can’t I? So this really isn’t my fault.”

It took a while before it clicked. “How...how did you know she wanted it?”

“I just knew!”

You stopped talking. You knew exactly what had happened, but you didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Neil was your oldest friend, he was a good guy deep down, you assured yourself...and plus, did that really even count as...? You waved the word away like you were blowing out a candle.

If Neil got in trouble over it, you’d lose your best friend, so everyone had to keep quiet, especially Katie.

What the fuck is wrong with you? You really picked your rapist friend over a girl who had been touched without consent? He knows that he got away with that, and he knows that he could probably do it again to someone else. You really chose your own feelings over those of any number of girls he could assault?

This is one of the reasons why things like that don’t get reported; it isn’t always because the victim is too scared to speak up, it’s because people don’t want others to get in trouble so they do what you did – beg the girl not to say anything more.

Have some sympathy, you say, look at it from his shoes, you say. What about her shoes? Or do they not matter? Do the other potential victims not matter?

Think about it. Speak up.

#101 - Speak?

Today’s words: Asylum, iPod, Night, Showcase

Word count: 821

Completion time: 50 minutes

Summary: Ron had no idea how to initiate a friendship, so how was he going to start a relationship with someone he’d never spoken to before?

--

Every lunch or break time that Ron had between lessons would be spent watching Brandon. What were people saying to him? How was he reacting? What kind of things made him laugh? He wanted to make him laugh...but he was no good at jokes, and he didn’t understand why the things that people were saying to him were funny either.

It felt like he was looking through glass walls at everyone but they couldn’t see him because he lived in a different world. People thought he was strange, but to be honest, he thought that everyone else had recently been released from an asylum. His wires weren’t connected differently, theirs were. Everyone else was so...different, even Brandon. So why did he intrigue him so much? Maybe it was because he wore an Adventure Time t-shirt once, or that he’s good on a BMX, or maybe because he makes his own lunches from scratch. He was only sixteen, how could he cook so well?

Every break time, Ron would turn on his iPod, put some soft jazz on and just observe. He found out pretty quickly that people don’t really talk to you if you’ve got your earphones in, even if no music is playing, but jazz made him feel at ease so that would usually be playing. It felt good to live in his own head, but Ron desperately wanted to make friends...but how did people do that?

At night before bed, he would stand in front of his bedroom mirror and initiate conversations with himself. He said a few things, imagined how Brandon would react, and beamed at his reflection before letting it fall into an irritated frown. It took Ron another year before he admitted his true feelings – he wanted to get together with Brandon.

“How can I make this happen if I can’t even talk to him?”

Ron thought about romance movies: usually people flirt a little even if they’re not proper friends, they ask them on a date, then they kiss. It sounded pretty basic, but he may as well have been trying to figure out the meaning of life.

The following week at college...

“I like your top.” Ron began the first conversation he ever had with Brandon. “It’s...nice.”

He smiled and looked down at the t-shirt he was wearing. “Thank you...? Hey, have we met before, or...?”

“No. Well, we go to the same college, but, we haven’t spoken yet. I’m Ron.”

Brandon tilted his head. “...Brandon.” Ron held his hand out and Brandon took it, shaking it gently. “So what’s up? How can I help you?”

“Help...” he silently pondered the question. There were several ways that Brandon could help him, so it was lucky that he asked. “You could go on a date with me, that would help me out. Only if you want to.”

Brandon opened his mouth to speak but didn’t know how to word it. “Um...is this a joke?”

“No. Why, was it funny?” he looked at him expectantly but couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.

“It’s ‘Ron’, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Listen Ron,” he leaned down and put his mouth close to Ron’s ear. “I don’t know how you found out, but I am not cool with a showcase of my sexuality hanging in every corridor of this institution. As far as you know, I’m not into guys, I’ll never be into guys, I date girls, do you understand? I don’t like guys. At all.” He stood upright again and smiled. “Are we clear?”

“Not really. Found out what? Are you straight? I didn’t know. I just didn’t know how to tell you...I’ve never been in this situation before.”

“Like I said, as far as you know, I’m straight.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Fucking hell!” Brandon sighed, pushing past Ron. “Stay away from me, don’t talk to me again.”

Ron stood in the same spot for several minutes, trying to decipher what had happened and failing.

He was used to being on the sidelines, but that was usually by choice, not because someone said to stay away. Was it possible to stay even further away than he had before?

People would always moan about unrequited love but he had no idea that it would hurt as much as it did. What made it worse was that he couldn’t wrap his head around what he had said to offend Brandon. It was as if everything he said had a 95% chance of being laced with poison. Was it wise to open his mouth at all?

From then on, any time he saw Brandon, he immediately turned his head and raised the volume of the music to drown everything out: Brandon’s face, Brandon’s words, and his feelings that refused to ease their grip on his chest every time he took a breath.

He was poisonous, a danger to society...maybe he was the one who should be locked away from everyone else, not them.