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…

50/100 Words

I feel like I am always apologizing for being late. The irony is, I can’t stand lateness. I feel it is incredibly disrespectful of the other party to be late.

My mother is always running late. If you’ve followed along here on TBI, you already know how I feel about my mother.

Well, once again I am late and feel I am turning into my mother. I suppose it is inevitable; we all turn into our parents in the end.

Becoming my mother is my biggest taboo. And not because she is sacred!

Here are yall’s taboos. Enjoy!

50 Words

…

So many names. I don’t recognize most of them. Who are all these people?

When I start saying these things to myself, I know it is time to clean up my social media accounts.

I have quite a few solid friendships made on social media. Some of these people I’ve met IRL and we adore each other. We will continue to be fast friends for the rest of our lives. A few I’ve met IRL and felt lukewarm toward them. Many I’ve never met IRL and will still ride or die for them.

There are many more with whom I…

50/100 Words

Thrifty Words 100 #16 and 50 #37: Taboo

Taboo. The word itself has come to mean many things. It is a perfume. It is a television show. It means forbidden, unacceptable, sacred.

I grew up knowing taboo first in the sacred sense. In Polynesian society, sacred items, food, and people could be considered tabu. These items were to be left alone. It was forbidden to touch them, approach them, and in some instances even to talk about them.

As I got older and well, wilder, I came to know the concept of taboo as unacceptable. Mom said smoking was taboo…