Truth Be Told.

I reached out to grab his arm as I push pass the crowd of students, only to brush the edge of his jacket. The smooth cloth slipping, literally, through my finger tips. I stared at the back of his head as realization began to dawn on me, that maybe he wasn’t acknowledging me on purpose. I retracted my reach and furrowed brows together.

“Why?” I wondered to myself.

I pushed the negative thoughts about my head and noticed he was turning towards me slightly. I smiled excitedly and started to catch back up to him in the crowd. With each step I slowed my momentum and stopped short of a reasonable distance to have a conversation.
Sure, he smiled as acknowledged my presence, but that smile was rude and cold. My smile faded rather quickly as he gave me a curt nod and continued on his way.

I felt like a fool. Embarrassed, I bowed my head and squeezed my fist tightly in anger…

 

Esther Holt

Esther is 22 years old and is a very level-headed and determined girl. She’s been alone for a long time now and is quite reserved and doesn’t speak unless spoken to. She has very little patience and will cut someone off it they are talking for far too long and is talking up too much of her time. The only ironic side to her personality is that she loves animals, especially the ones that need help. She owns a cat named Abigail and has recused about 20 other cats and dogs combined. She works as a volunteer at the animal shelter and is working as a veterinarian assistant.

Esther was born in Bristol, CT at Bristol Hospital on June 14. She lived there for 14 years before her father moved to Cape Elizabeth, Maine –spending the remainder of her teenage years there. Esther’s father, Charles Holt, don’t have a good relationship. Since the time her mother died they have not been able to communicate correctly. He merely allowed Esther to do what she wanted within the boundaries that he had in  place. She’s had to do and learn a lot of important things on her own.

She applied to Yale University and got her undergraduate degree in Veterinary Science, and now works at a clinic known for treating celebrity pets in NYC, while continuing her volunteer work in the shelter. She lives in an apartment just outside the city in SoHo.

Based on my Feelings.

It’s painful eating alone for every meal. You turn to your right and see a smiling couple decked out in their precisely coordinated outfits and perfect white teeth, then you turn to your left and nod in recognition at the group of friends who eat together every lunch and dinner. Of course they are the loudest in the place, and maybe not the happiest, but they sure do seem like it.

While I sit between the two eating a over dressed salad with a side of overcooked chicken feeling like shit. The food has no taste, not flavor. No matter how colorful the plate may look, the taste is grey at best.

“It’s better to eat with someone,” I’d hear people say next to me with a cheerful smile to their best friend.

“I can handle it.” I lie.

“I deal with it.” I say.

I pick up my phone and text my friend, because I’m sure I’ll eat with someone today. I wait five minutes, ten, twenty, two hours, I finally get the text I knew was coming and ignore it. It was a no anyway, I shouldn’t have wished for anything different. That person’s been avoiding me any chance he gets.

“I’m so completely alone…” I admit to no one in particular and stuff my face with another overdressed salad and overcooked chicken.

Inspired by: Gotye – Somebody That I Used to Know (Ft. Kimbra)

I immediately regretted what I had done as soon as it was done.

This girl in front of me clutched her face with tears filling her eyes making her usual brown turn a lighter more vulnerable color. I watched her as she tried to put on a brave face and glare up at me with her hurt eyes. She didn’t speak but her expression said so much more than her words ever could. The red hand mark on her cheek was already bruising as she shut her eyes and turned away from me walking out the room.

As I watch this girl that I love walk out, the memories of everything special that we once had came flooding back, and made the regret turn into hurt. The pain was almost too much to handle. For the next week, I listened and watched as she packed her bag and gather her things from the apartment we shared.

Now as I sit alone in this apartment, pained that I no longer know who I am, I search for this empty piece of me that’s now gone and that I could probably never get back.

(there will another version)

sleep.

The chill in the air made it hard to move –made it had to breathe. Her body slumped against the large oak in the snow covered forest. It was only going to get worst once the sun finally set, which would cause the temperature to drop drastically. Esther had to find warmth, she needed it. She hugged herself close with only her fleece coat being the only hope she had left. She rubbed her hands together and breathed into her palms, but the air only made the cold hurt more. The prickle she felt earlier was now thousands of needles.

Her blue eyes felt heavy, it was hard to stay awake at this point.

The time had come to go to sleep…

The Return.

Words alone probably cannot explain my clear absence from this site.

Its been well over a month since I even bother to access this site. I can’t lie, its been a touch time and I won’t be surprised if my writing will be affected. We will see what happens.

The future can’t be known.

All that’s clear is I’ve returned.

Finding out the Truth (working title).

To start off before I continue, this is the first in a series based off the life of my best friend living in Savannah, GA. The details will be fuzzy, and the plot will be spotty right now, but I do intend to re-write when I’m finish and possibly get it published. For Now these are merely brainstorms. Enjoy!

The Beginning.
“Damn bike.” I muttered under my breath. The chain came loose as I biked back to my apartment three miles up the road. Every night from four pm to midnight I baby sit my dad’s girlfriend’s three kids at her house. The fact that all three were adorable in their own cute little elementary way made the job better –and the 60 bucks a night didn’t hurt either.
I waddled my bike over to the side of the road and attempted to fiddle with the chain in the dark with only my cell phone as a source of light. The squeal of bike breaks made me freeze. My right hand immediately touched the three inch knife in my back pocket. I may be 18, but I’m smart enough to know that living alone in Savannah means being prepared.

“Hey, you need help?”

M.I.A.

It’s been two months. School took over, my almost social life got in the way, friends have been having issues, and my writer’s block has not subsided.

Productive academically. Boring socially.

I’m trying to be good about this blog and I’m trying to write more, but it’s really my lazy attitude about it, and then my procrastination leads to me having to cram in studying and homework. I apologize. I was going so well too.

Sometimes.

The smallest, simplest thing can hurt your feelings.

Its funny how emotional us women can be, especially the ones who try hard NOT to be. It’s not that we’re trying to be cool (or maybe we are), or that we’re trying to get men to like us for being low maintenance.

It’s so that we can be strong and not show weakness. It’s to prove to the world that we WILL NOT cry over that milk we spilled or weep over our bruises. Its to show that even if our hearts are broken we can still accomplish what we want in life.

But, even still…as women, we still feel self conscious, we still the feel hurt, and we are still soft on the inside. That shield some of us put up is to cushion the blow of disappointment, hurt, anger, and regret. It’s to protect us, just as it is for anyone else. However, sometimes as a woman, I feel that ours has to be harder, stronger, and wider than most men.

I can honestly tell you, I hate being a women sometimes, and if you were a women you’d hate it for this reason too (along with child birth and bleed from your crotch every month).  It sucks feeling sad and depressed for sometime stupid, it’s idiotic feeling hurt and alone when I’m not.

Or maybe, that’s just me…maybe it’s my depression that I thought was gone, sucking me back into the depths of it’s dark despair. Do I have to prepare myself for that plunge again? Do I need to ready myself with all my strength to pull myself back up going against the tide of black? Is this the beginning of another uphill battle? Just…this time without an escape to help me along the way?

I don’t know. I’ve never known honestly, but I think I’m becoming scared…will I revert back? My stomach is hurting…that was always the first sign. I don’t have those painkillers anymore, I have stronger stuff now that I don’t wanna take.

*sigh* I don’t think sitting alone in the dark is helping.

I posted this on my tumblr the other day. A few people reblogged it and it made me smile a little. So I decided to bring it to the world of WordPress. I hope you find it as relatable as these other girls did. My heart was on my sleeve when I wrote it.

-Chris Lawrence.