Scrawl

Everything’s always the same. Just made worse with a hangover.

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Word Prompt: Migraine

Voices echo against the stillness around me, but I hardly notice. They’re no more than scarce whispers. Hushed lullabies when compared to the constant ringing in my head. In my ears. Blinding flashes akin to sudden shouts that make the back of my eyes protest until they’re forced to close. It’s reflex. And as I sit there, waiting for the dizziness to subside and sound to return, I realize that…

It’s nice to have a reason other than terror to shut my eyes.

Scribble

Time passes.

The sun will continue to rise, and with it, the jagged edges of your heart will wear themselves down, and you’ll be safe from the stinging cuts of errant memories running rampant inside your mind.

So, brave this now, treasure up the pain, and find whatever lessons might lie in them. Because it does get better. Those struggles will guide you through the rest of your life. Allow them to be gentle reminders of how easy it is to find a reason to laugh in this dark world—and how it should never be so hard.

Devotion (Scribble)

And so, she offers me her heart.  Open and bright and entirely without price.  I can feel the slivers of old cowardice race up my back, trying to command me—it succeeds in contorting my face. I know this. Because I have to physically fight against the downward struggle of skin and sinew, trying not to scare her. But every doubt, every passing fear is silenced when she’s still there. Eyes huge and unblinking, waiting for something I don’t know how to give.

But I will try. For her.