Miles of golden sand
Pharaohs ruling into the
night to hazy days
Miles of golden sand
Pharaohs ruling into the
night to hazy days
I could feel the crisp breeze between my fingers, could smell the heavy dose of chocolate floating in the air and taste the bitter fear in my throat.
“Are you alright my dear?” I remember an old woman asking.
I nodded, wishing the old woman would leave and smiled politely while praying that my sister would find me. Hesitating only a second, she did just that, carrying two orange pumpkins full of candy and leaving me with my eye patch. Not a second later the silence crept along my skin expanding the tight ball of fear between my lungs. I remember the fear. I remember breathing in and out until my sister found my hand. I remember she slid her gloved hand into mine, twining her long fingers with my short ones. I remember I grasped that hand so tightly I never wanted to let go again.
On the cold night of October 31st, I wore an eye patch. I don’t remember how old I was this specific Halloween, but I remember the sensation of wearing an eye patch, only seeing out of one eye. Holding my sister’s hand, we made our way across the neighborhood in search of candy. As a child you have no sense of fear, at least not until it’s right in your face.
I had no fear until the warmth of my sister’s hand disappeared and I was left alone standing between a group of older children. I know now that I shouldn’t have been as afraid as I was. I had gotten separated from my mom, dad and sister before. But if you’ve ever worn an eye patch it dulls one sense and you become aware of the others. I could hear the laughter of children down the street, the skipping of feet and haughty laughs of plastic demons. False demons never seemed more frightening.
I’d open that door, but I’m scared.
You see, that is no ordinary door. It’s my door.
Gold and silver wrapped around each other like vines, but no thorns.
There are enough on the other side. I hope they don’t nick you.
There’s a lot I hope doesn’t hurt you.
You see, my door may look beautiful and bright, but what it opens to is an
Will that frighten you? You, who thinks they know everything about my door.
Where it came from, How it was made, What it leads to…
But what if you were wrong? What if everything you thought was wrong?
Would you still appreciate the door, my door?
You may be wrong, but there is no need for distance. My intentions were not of
deceit, I promise you. The door, my door is still the same one you looked upon
all those years ago. It’s just changed.
I’ve changed and where you thought it led was a dream of your own making.
Now, I wish you to see, but will you promise me something?
Once you open my door, walk all the way through and do not close it.
Promise me, for I fear it may not open again.
There are things that frighten even me about my door.
It’s of my creation and That is what I fear most.
“We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.”
As you get older it’s impossible to not stress about relationships, finances, and life in general. Stress it seems, is part of life and you can either learn to manage it or curl up in a ball and let life pass you by. Even though sometimes I want to do the latter, I put on my big girl pants and try to not stress. As stress can come from anything and everything, managing stress also comes in various forms. What causes stress for one person won’t be the same for everyone. I can say that as I’ve gotten older, I know my stress triggers and have found a few methods that don’t involve curling up in a ball.
Blasting obscenities or smooth relaxing beats, its your prerogative. I haven’t met a person who doesn’t love music, so put on your headphones and let the music wash away the stress.
Fifteen minutes or thirty minutes, it’s all good.
Let me tell you a secret, sleep can work wonders. Grab your pillow, grab your blanket because you’re going nap away that stress.
Ok, I admit that I find killing aliens with plasma guns very cathartic. If you’re like me and find letting some aggression out helps with stress, get the Xbox and pop in some Halo for an hour of alien butt-kicking.
When I’m feeling the all too familiar tingle of stress, I immediately reach for one of the thousands of books littered around my house. I’m kidding, I don’t have thousands of books, more like hundreds. While I may or may not be kidding, reading is a great stress reliever as your mind is focused on reading every word and sooner than you know it you’re transported into the story.
Or cooking, your choice.
Not everyone is great in the kitchen and baking may not be your forte, but give it a try. If you’re a kitchen newbie, follow a basic box recipe like chocolate chip cookies, it’s hard to mess up. Just like the saying, “it’s not about the destination but the journey,” so is baking. Keeping your hands and mind busy on the task at hand has a great calming effect. Plus, you get to eat what you made, so it’s a win-win situation.
Capture this moment. Right now.
You can start, but you can’t finish
You need variations in color from Cobalt to Orange.
Layout below the sunset in the warm grass.
Slip your fingers through the air.
Jump into the pond and take a sip.
Caress the Dahlia’s petals, the black ones too.
Dip your finger into the sunset and dream.
Carry that dream like a soft summer
Breeze. Don’t think, just dream and
Capture this moment like a
It’s little. It’s a little pocket resting under my heart.
It vibrates with each thump of my heart. It’s warm and
filled with something I have no words for. I cherish it.
I protect it. I hate it.
It’s little. It’s a little pocket pushing under my heart.
It expands with each thump of my heart. It’s cold and
filled with tears shed at night. I cherish it. I protect it.
I hate it.
I’m so lost in my own mind
Traversing this maze in my time
Can’t you see? No, you’re so blind
Tried calling for help, there’s a line
Help. Is this what you call it?
Can I get a little bit?
Does it come in a first aid kit?
Wouldn’t know, never asked for it
Gimme a chance, let me try
I can’t promise I won’t cry
But I need this relief, no lie
Running for years, it’s do or die
Been short of breath for years
In dark corners shedding my tears
Promised myself I’d never succumb to my fears
So now I’m gonna get my blue skies clear
Upon the bright star filled midnight
In the darkened shadowed hollow,
Headless horseman Harry poorly
lived, watching the running children,
searching for his missing blonde head.
One by one by on they do play,
golden green-eyed Fay Morringday,
glowing blonde hair Harry did see,
a fair good head to sit upon
Headless Harry’s steady shoulders.
By the sunken sun the horseman,
Of the darkened cave did he ride
What is the best cutting method
for easily slicing a neck,
a neck so delicate and pure
Only a child, a child so sweet,
slice once and true, double-handed
will do, with blood so tart running.
running down her lovely cream neck,
green-eyed Fay Morringday did die.