Neil Hilborn OCD Rustbelt 2013
The first time I saw her, everything in my head went quiet. All the tics, all the constantly refreshing images, just disappeared. When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don't really get quiet moments. Even in bed I'm thinking did I lock the door yes did I wash my hands yes did I lock the door yes did I wash my hands yes. But when I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips or the eyelash on her cheek the eyelash on her cheek the eyelash on her cheek.
I knew I had to talk to her. I asked her out six times. In thirty seconds. She said yes after the third one, but none of them felt right so I had to keep going. On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating or talking to her, but she loved it. She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye sixteen times, or twentyfour times if it was Wednesday. She loved that it took me forever to walk home because there are a lot of cracks.
When we moved in together, She said she felt safe, like no one would ever rob us because I definitely locked the door eighteen times. I'd always watch her mouth when she talked when she talked when she talked when she talked when she talked. When she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges. At night, she'd lay in bed and watch me turn all the lights off and on and off and on and off and on and off and on and off and on and off.
She'd close her eyes and imagine that days and nights were just passing in front of her. Some mornings, I'd start kissing her goodbye but she'd just leave because I was making her late for work. When I stopped at a crack in the sidewalk, she just kept walking. When she said she loved me, her mouth was a straight line. She told me I was taking up too much of her time. Last week she started sleeping at her mother's place. She told me that she shouldn't have let me.
Get so attached to her, that this whole thing was a mistake, but how can it be a mistake that I don't have to wash my hands after I touch her Love is not a mistake. It's killing me that she can run away from this and I just can't. I can't go out and find someone new because I always think of her. Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my skin. I see myself crushed by an endless succession of cars. She was the first.
Beautiful thing I ever got stuck on. I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds her steering wheel. How she turns shower knobs like she's opening a safe. How she blows out candles blows out candles blows out candles blows out candles blows out candles blows out candles blows out now I just think about who else is kissing her. I can't breathe because he only kisses her once. He doesn't care if it's perfect. I want her back so bad, I leave the door unlocked.
Darius Simpson Scout Bostley Lost Voices CUPSI 2015
The first day I realized I was black, it was 2000, we had just learned about blacks for the first time in 2nd grade. At recess, all the white kids chased me into the woods chanting slave. My mother said I refused to come out for three hours, said she thinks I was lost in the trees, but I just needed to be closer to my roots. As a woman, having a boyfriend is a battle If 70 of us are abused in a lifetime what is the number of men doing it.
The answer is not 1 man running faster than light to complete a mission and that is what leaves me sick The second day I realized I was black, was in a gas station I only had 25 cents so I searched what to spend it on. The cashier floated from aisle to aisle eyes fixed on my hands. That was the first time I realized skin color was a crime, My body has become cause to write legislation cause for ass smacks in the back of a class my body has demanded everything except respect. I have been asked.
What makes you feel unsafe and I struggle not to yell EVERYTHING The third day I realized I was black was in an allwhite cafeteria. I gathered my legs under me, made rockets of my feet and approached a girl. She told me she wasn't into my type of guy. I felt the words shoot daggers into my melanin, I've never wanted to disappear so bad. As a woman I've learned to answer to everything except my name little lady is not said to mean equal but to make sure I remember my place.
I battle between wanting to own my body and accepting that there is a one in four chance a man will lay claim to my skin a plot of land for the taking The last day I realized I was black was in an elevator in California. To the white woman that told me she knows what it feels like to be black because she grew up poor, I would tell you to think before you speak but your mind has got to be bacteria infected and any filter through that labyrinth of nothingness might be worse than no thought at all.
There is a group of women going around the room sharing their personal definition of feminism He is the only man in the room and all of a sudden the tone switches to destroying the patriarchy by annihilating all men. Do you know what it means to be black, to pop lock your way in and out of hugs It is not a problem that you want to sympathize but to tell me you know my pain, is to stab yourself in the leg because you saw me get shot. We have two different wounds, and looking at yours does nothing to heal mine,.
Never will I turn away an ally but when a man speaks on my behalf that only proves my point Movements are driven by passion not by asserting yourself dominant by a world that already put you there You speak to know pain you only fathom because we told you it was there You know nothing of silence, until someone who cannot know your pain tells you how to fix it. Every day is a crucifixion when there is no regard for lines crossed. I fight so my voice can be heard I fight for the voices you silence all in.
Jesse Parent To the Boys Who May One Day Date My Daughter
To the boys who may one day date my daughter I have been waiting for you. Since before her birth, since before my spark took hold and ignited the fire in her mother's belly, I have been training to kill you. When you took your first steps, I was preparing to make it so you never walked again. When you played at war I was perfecting my headshots. You can't catch up at this point. And when you first meet my daughter and fall in love with the look she sends over.
Her shoulder, her crescent moon eyes framing her laughing smile, you are going to want to talk to her. And when those hours pass by like sprinters during that first timeless conversation you will also know, with a deep and impending sense of dread, that you are going to have to talk to me. When you first come to my home and see the bone carving over my threshold, try not to imagine your own femurs so expertly carved. Pay no attention to my ample crawlspace, my room with the rubber mat and drain.
Be careful only to approach me with love for my daughter. See, I have been seeding her childhood with tap root hugs to weed out indifference and apathy. There will be no daddy issues for your teenaged talons to latch upon. If you break her heart, I will hear it snap with the ear I pressed against her mother's belly. The elbow I cradled her head in will send a message to my fist. My cheeks are attuned to her lips, I will know if they tremble. I have taught her that a man should never hit a woman.
Now, her mother would add that you really shouldn't ever hit anybody, but I have taught her that a man should NEVER HIT A WOMAN! Consider my genes a mark of Cain, you will suffer seven times whatever you do to her. And she will not keep your secret, you can't make fire feel afraid. I have been teaching her love all of her life, and all that I ask is that you continue the lesson. Love her, befriend her, protect her. Be there when I can't. And when my body gives up to the grave.
This Is What It Feels Like To Be Depressed
Writing noises writing noises Dear depression, we go way back. I remember the first time I met you. I was seven years old, a pigtailed lover of books, teased for the sneakers my mother could barely afford. The second time I met you was at a house party where a stranger packed himself into my mouth. It was the first time I understand the word ugly. We met again when I learned I had lupus and found out my body now belonged to an incurable disease and again, when I was sad for the 49th day in a row.
I begged you to go away, but you would not leave. You, depression, are my childhood friend. The midnight voices in my head, a slick tongue. You pretend to have the answers, but loving you got me sick, got me suicidewatched, got me blue happy pills. Find the nearest ledge, you say. Walk out, you say. Suspend, you say. Wouldn't I be happier dead Yesterday, I cried enough to name myself the sad girl again. Lonely has developed an authority where my thoughts are family. Always fussing about the wrong I have done,.
About the pretty I've burned. What I learn of sadness is from you. You told me boys won't love me, but a fastened rope can. You tell me lupus is incurable. Can't have seven children, can't be hospitalized three times in one year, and call that killing. You, a contradiction, a house of lies. Sickness can do that. It can lie, it can claw. My sadness will not cease. It will not quiet, and I am afraid to die. I am afraid to die. Depression is a house of teeth. It will write you into a story without rest.
It will kin you, comb your mouth into a beautiful haunting and name it a vacant wilderness. But dare yourself, extraordinary human, to run into joy screaming, you cannot have me. You cannot have me. I am not my past. I am worthy of love, I am worthy. I am forgiving myself for not being strong enough to believe in myself. I can tell you, I do not know who my father is. I can tell you, a best friend's father molested me. I can tell you the number of men I let crawl into my body,.
What Its Like Living With Depression
Alarm buzzing Just hit snooze, stay in bed with me a little longer. I can't be late again. somber piano music Aren't you tired Maybe you should call in sick and just stay home with me. Let's get back in bed. I don't like that one, it makes you look fat. And that color is awful on you. Why are you even here I don't know, you tell me. I don't know either. Right, choose right. chuckles What are you talking about He won't understand.
Hey, pay attention to me. This work stuff is stupid and pointless. Why do you care about it anyways It could've ended, but they're doing a good job. It's like, I don't know if needed a last season, we did. That was nice, but weird. It's like, I don't know what to do with myself. It's not like you never have time for it during the week when things are really open, when you're at work and you're like, Ah! Are you sure you wanna do this right now.
Please stay home with me. crying I don't even know why I'm crying. I know. I understand you. Voiceover What's wrong with you lately I don't know, I just. Voiceover I mean you've really gotta snap out of this funk that you're in. Just come out with us tonight, that'll help. You're an idiot if you think that will help. Plus, you always act like I'm not around when we're with them. I gotta go okay I don't wanna be with you anymore! Will you just go away.
Patrick Roche 21 CUPSI 2014
21. My father is run over by a car. He is passed out in the road with a blood alcohol content 4 times the legal limit. I do not cry. Four months later, The nurses lose his pulse, And I wonder whose life Flashed before his eyes. Rewinding VHS tapes Old home tutorials 20. 19. I haven't brought a friend home in four years. 18. My mother sips the word divorce Her mouth curls at the taste Like it burns going down. 17. I start doing homework at Starbucks. I have more meaningful conversations with the barista.
Than with my family 16. I wait for Christmas Eve. My brother and I usually exchange gifts to one another early This year, he And my father exchange blows. My mother doesn't go to mass. 15. I come up with the theory that my father started drinking again Because maybe he found out I'm gay. Like if he could make everything else blurry, Maybe somehow I'd look straight. 15. My mother cleans up his vomit in the middle of the night And cooks breakfast in the morning like she hasn't lost her appetite.
15. I blame myself. 15. My brother blames everyone else. 15. My mother blames the dog. 15. Super Bowl Sunday My father bursts through the door like an avalanche Picking up speed and debris as he falls Banisters, coffee tables, picture frames Tumbling, stumbling. I find his AA chip on the kitchen counter. 14. My father's been sober for 10, Maybe 11, years I just know We don't even think about it anymore. 13. 12. 11. Mom tells me Daddy's meetings are for AA. She asks if I know what that means. I don't.
I nod anyway. 10. My parents never drink wine at family gatherings. All my other aunts and uncles do. I get distracted by the TV and forget to ask why. 9. 8. 7. 6. I want to be SpiderMan. Or my dad. They're kinda the same. 5. 4. 3. I have a nightmare The recurring one about Ursula from The Little Mermaid So I get up I waddle toward Mommy and Daddy's room, Blankie in hand, I pause. Daddy's standing in his underwear Silhouetted by refrigerator light. He raises a bottle.
Blythe Baird Girl Code 101 NPS 2014
GIRL CODE 101 We are the finaglers. The exceptions. The girls who have not run the mile in four years, who layer deep Vnecks with excuses. Eyelashes bat wiffle balls at the male gym teachers. We are the girls taught to survive by using our bodies as swiss army knives, calculated scrunched nose giggles and friendly forearm lingers You'resofunnypleasedon'ttouchme. We convince ourselves there is protection in being polite. No, you go first. Girls we have to be nice. Male kindness is so alien we assume it is seduction every time. We remember age 9, the first time we are catcalled.
12, fraudulent bodies calling us women before we have the chance to. 13, the year dad says wearing short skirts in the city is like driving without a seatbelt. 15, we are the unmarked tardies, waived detentions, honorable mentions in lush floral dresses. 16, we are the public school mannequins. 17, we know the answer but do not raise our hands. Instead, we are answering to guidance counselors who ask us, Well, what were you wearing Their voices clinkless toasts. We are let off the hook from hall monitors, retired football coaches.
Who blow kisses and whisper Little Miss Lipstick into our ears in the high school cafeteria. We shiver, but hey at least we still get away without wearing our student ID's. This is not female privilege this is survival of the prettiest. We are playing the first game we learned how to. We are the asses smacked by boys who made welcome mats of our yoga pants. We are easily startled. Who wouldn't be We are barked at from the street. We are the girls petrified of the business school boys.
Who were taught to manifest success by refusing to take no for an answer. And I wonder what it says about me that I feel pretty in a dress, but powerful in a suit. If misogyny has been coiled inside of me for so long I forget I will not stand before an impatient judge with an Adam's apple, hand grasping gavel, ready to pound a wooden mark. Give me a God I can relate to. Commandments from a voice both soft and powerful. Give me one accomplishment of Mary's that did not involve her vagina.
9 Motivating Movie Monologues Writers Need To Hear
Writers do you find yourself needing a pep talk to help you get through yet another round of rewrites and rejections look no further here are 9 motivational movie monologues that all writers need to hear great moments are born from great opportunity don't ever let somebody tell you you can't do something not even me alright alright you got a dream you gotta protect it people can't do something themselves they want to tell you you can't do it you want something go get it period carpe diem seize the day boys make your lives.
Extraordinary we're all of us up against something so you better make up your mind because until you have the balls to look me straight in the eye and tell me this is all you deserve I am not letting you fail even if that means coming to your house every night until you finish the work I see who you are do you understand me I can see you and you are not failing the world ain't all sunshine and rainbows it's a very mean and nasty place and I don't care.
How tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it you me or nobody is going to hit as hard as life but it ain't about how hard you hit it's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward how much you can take and keep moving forward that's how winning is done to me being perfect is not about that scoreboard out there it's not about winning it's about you and your relationship to yourself and your family and your friends cause you'll have bad times but it'll always wake you up.
To the good stuff you weren't paying attention to and you don't regret meeting your wife why cause the pain I feel now oh I got regrets Will but I don't regret a single day I spent with her it is with passion courage of conviction and strong sense of self that we take our next steps into the world remembering that first impressions are not always correct in this lifetime you don't have to prove nothin' to nobody except yourself and after what you've gone through if you haven't done that by now it ain't gonna never happen want to know more.
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Neil Hilborn OCD Rustbelt 2013
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