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Submitted to Contest #340
I was there, in that little town in the so-called perfect country of Denmark, one of the happiest places to live, or so they say.I was there, but I was never part of it. I have never been part of anywhere. Social rules confuse me; small talk feels like an alien ritual. I don’t understand which elbow to show, which light phrase to drop, which smile to return. I am a viewer. Maybe that is why I am telling this story now, to bridge the gap of my loneliness.Denmark smiled at everyone. Strangers greeted each other in the street. Politeness was a ...
Submitted to Contest #335
Christmas is coming for me again, looping endlessly as far back as my memory can reach.Over and over, I prepare for it, searching for the right outfit. But it is never about clothes. It is about assembling a version of myself, a personality carefully chosen to survive the holiday gatherings, to pass unnoticed, to belong just enough.A loop of smiles, a loop of small talk, and the loop of never feeling good enough, each one dancing in circles, and endless waltz. It reminds me of the waltz I once saw while reading about chaos theory.Do you want...
Submitted to Contest #334
It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. The mountains were white like the skin of the invaders, those who forced the last of us to run into this weather of death.Better that Pachamama take us herself than let the land thieves claim us.Antisuyu was not a land for my people. We have lived in Omagua since Pachamama created us.We swim in rivers, we climb trees, we gather the fruits of the jungle.We carry the heat of the forest in our bodies.We are not like the people of Antisuyu.Yet they are still alive, the white snow...
Submitted to Contest #333
The coffee machine lets out its first soft hiss, and something inside me loosens. That sound is my morning anchor. The pan warms beside it, radiating a quiet heat I can almost feel from across the room. It`s waiting for me, waiting to turn my toast into the perfect kind of crunch, the one my brain trusts.A spoonful of butter first. Always. I watch it melt into a slow golden pool, spreading the way it`s supposed to. These steps aren`t habits; they`re a map. If I follow them, everything tastes right. Everything feels right.That familiar sequen...
Submitted to Contest #332
One more day, just one more day. Come on, you can do it, you can survive it. That`s what I tell myself, over and over, like a broken mantra scraping the inside of my brain.It`s hard, God, it`s hard, but it can`t rain all the time, right?That line spins in my head like it`s trying to hold me together.I love that quote, I love that movie "The Crow", the rain, the grief, the hope crawling out of the wreckage. Some days I feel like I`m all three at once.Today I have a very important appointment, and I wake up counting my steps, as if the numbers...
Submitted to Contest #331
Another day, whispering to my own thoughts, counting every step as if it might quiet the voice in my skull, the one that repeats, again and again, that I am too much, and that being too much is never enough in a world that prefers me silent. Silence, for me, was an utopy. Something I`ve never know in my 34 years of life. Silence was a privilege reserved for those blessed with an average mind, and average always sounded idyllic to me. Silence was romance, the soft echo of a laugh. Silence was understanding social rules without dissecting them...
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