Trigger warning/suicide

Praying to the Unicorns? No. Not praying.

Begging.

Pleading.

Wailing.

Unicorns are as real as Gods and sons of Gods when

your wrists are slit open. When

you are bleeding out. When

there was no other option, no other person, no other thought, feeling, emotion.

Only desperation.

Praying to the Unicorns makes as much sense as accepted nonsense, water to wine, bread and fishes, invisible power listening, caring, allowing pain and

suffering

no proof of existence.

Unicorns are as real as Gods and sons of Gods when

you are crawling or curled. When

your body spasms. When

your…

I'm far too young to be this old.

I started the aging process a bit younger than most. Not only did I have a full hysterectomy in my 30s, jump-starting menopause, but I have done a lot of damage to my body. I started smoking cigarettes when I was ten. I poured a lot of poison down my throat and have put worse into my veins. I began drinking and using drugs at 13. I continued well into my thirties. I no longer use drugs or even drink beyond the occasional glass of wine or bottle of beer. I do…

What is she doing over there? Eyes glassy. Blank stare? Is that ink in her hair?

Words pressing in her brain. Images went in, they want out again. They are trapped in a prison of fear and shame. The words want out. Now! They are beginning to cause pain.

The small voices speak inside her. They say she is bad; she is wrong, they can’t abide her. She’ll fail. She’ll fall. She’ll stay off the horse. She’ll let it ride her.

Too many years chasing the dragon. The words build and build. She hops on the wagon.

Years and years…

Essay Contest

The votes are in. It was a tough decision, but after some bare-knuckle boxing, um, I mean, deliberation, the editors of The Bad Influence have stopped their noses bleeding with some O.B. Tampons and tallied up the votes.

It is my pleasure to announce the winner of the $100.00 Incite Change Essay Contest #3: Freedom is . . .

Drumroll, please . . .

Gaby Rogut

With her heart-wrenching poem titled Freedom Is a Two-Bedroom Apartment on the Second Floor.

Congratulations, Gaby!

All of the entries were very good. Please give them a read.

When the editors aren’t engaged…

50/100 Words

Magic.

When I was a kid I just KNEW I was magic.

The first proof of my magical abilities came when I would be standing in the footwell of the back seat of mom’s car waiting at a red light. I would tell my mom to look away from the light and I would say, “Turn green.” If it didn’t immediately turn green, it was obvious my mother was looking in the wrong direction. So, I’d tell her to turn her head the other way and say, “Turn green.” The light always turned green (eventually) thereby proving I was magic.

…

100/50 Words

Yesterday my very good friend offered to send me her soon-to-be old laptop. Today she over-paid for some cheese I shipped to her friend.

I balked both times. I keep telling her it is too much money to spend on me.

She got pissed! Rightly so.

We have the kind of relationship where we give and receive with grace. It all balances out in the end.

I figured out why I was objecting to the cost of her generosity.

Shame. I’ve been feeling shame, and a lot of it, lately. It’s purely self-inflicted. …