Photo by Yoann Boyer on Unsplash
For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to be a writer.
I am a writer, technically.
I write every day, whether it be only a journal entry, a Medium article, a bit of flash fiction or some work on a novel, I am always writing.
But I’ve never gotten close to the point where writing is my vocation and not just my passion.
I feel like I am constantly being pulled into two directions — toward the writing that I want to make a living out of, and the other jobs that actually help me make a living.
Now, I am at a crossroads…
in my dreams you follow me
and I can’t get away from you even when I try
like last night,
there you were when I turned my head beckoning me into your car
and I am hopeless to resist you,
every single time I give in and then wake up thanking god
this isn’t real, you are gone
this is just a dream you find me in when I try so hard to wish you away
I thought I’d always love you
always want you whether in dreams or in my arms
hindsight is everything – I would have ran from you long ago if I’d known how you would haunt me
My entire family, except for my sister who counts her calories and goes to the gym 3–4 times a week, is overweight.
Yes, even my thirteen-year-old daughter is overweight for her height and age and I take on almost all of the responsibility for that, for not making sure she’s always eating the healthiest foods or getting enough exercise.
It is my job as her parent to make sure she grows up healthy, and besides our family’s thunder thigh fat genes, I often look at her and think that it’s my fault she’s overweight, and that’s totally fine with me…
Because she’s not old enough to believe that it’s her own fault.
Photo by Ian Keefe on Unsplash
For years I have done crazy, backward things like hiding my writing away behind fake names or scrapping entire websites when I get feedback that makes me nervous.
You know, like comments from people I know.
For some reason, I’ve always been afraid to share my writing with people I know “in real life” because I’ve been afraid they will judge me for what I have to say…
PHOTO PROMPT © Renee Heath
They came upon the camp just as the sun dipped below the horizon, finding it abandoned, the embers of a fire smoldering in a pit surrounded by empty seats.
“We’re too late.”
“No, we can catch up to them, look, the fire is still hot.”
Shana lifted her eyes to the mountains, knowing that’s where they would be headed.
“Do you think it’s safe beyond the mountains?”
“Is it safe anywhere?”
They made torches, lighting them from the last of the embers, and began to trudge the well-worn path made by thousands of feet before them.
100 words for Friday Fictioneers .