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She stood at the door, unsure of herself. The mat on the front step was an invitation. Such a warm word. It made Martha think of happy families adopting new puppies. It made her smile. But it was a bold decision, to invite people in like that. Sometimes, being welcoming was a bad idea.

She was an easygoing girl, which made her easy to like. She was one of those people who just magically seemed to be friends with everyone. It was hard to say if she was really friends with them, though, or if they were just attracted to her like moths were to a flame. She seemed not to worry about it too much, though. Alicia didn't worry about what people thought of her. That always struck me. She was one of the rare people I've ever met who truly found no pleasure in speculating about the thoughts and actions of others.

Lucious had never been so hungry before. The food spread before him didn't seem anywhere near enough to quell his appetite, but since he wasn't likely to get more any time soon, it would simply have to do. He settled down in front of his camp fire and dug in, eating the meager meal he had managed to provide for himself. It was nothing impressive, but then, his survival skills weren't so great.

"Grab a bottle of soda and try to relax, would you? You're getting really uptight, and we haven't even started yet." "That's half the reason I'm getting uptight!" exploded Mark, who was anxious beyond belief today. It was exhausting the rest of us to no end, of course, but he wouldn't shut up about it, leaving us with nothing to do but try to calm him down.

the bottles lined the shelf, looking almost lovely in the light. They sparkled, like glass will when the light hits it just right, and if it wasn't such a testament to shame, I might have been enchanted by the sight. It was just so...strange. To see them. It was honestly an eerie feeling, one that gave me chills, and brought forth so many questions. How long had it taken to gather that many bottles, for starters? years? Did that mean this place hadn't been cleaned in years? Or had it just been the last few weeks? That was an awful lot of bottles to collect in only a few weeks.

The footage was enough to shock me, but I didn't want to believe what the camera had made so difficult to deny. It had to be a misunderstanding, I figured - something that had a perfectly innocent explanation. That was so much easier to believe than the idea that I had been duped all these years. It was just easier to pull the wool over my eyes and pretend that this hadn't happened. This couldn't POSSIBLY be happening. I felt sick to my stomach and handed the cellphone back to the stranger. "I don't believe it."

It's sort of an ugly word, bringing these images to mind of people so stubbornly clinging to outdated beliefs that they refuse to change. I've never liked the word dogma. I guess I never bothered to look it up or anything, it just gave me the heebie jeebies when I heard it. It's not a positive word at all. Also, that bumper sticker. But now I can't think of what it is. Anyway, it was too big a topic to write a one minute blurb about, so I just thought out loud.

The savagery was hard to watch, so I had to turn my head away from the screen. Lily loved horror movies, but they had never been my cup of tea. Usually, I stood my ground with her. She would poke and prod, and I would say no, because I didn't want to have to watch people dying on screen even if they weren't all being systematically taken out by serial killers. She didn't take no for an answer sometimes, though, which was what left me here now, on the couch in her basement, watching some terrible movie, the name of which I didn't even know.

I always picture a line of people with their arms linked when I think of solidarity. I know it's kind of a cliche image. I think the word solidarity is actually a bit overused sometimes. Not that I don't believe it's important, I just think it's become sort of a buzzword to make people think you want to do/are going to do great things. And I agree that solidarity is much, much better than charity. But is it really possible to stand in solidarity with someone if you have no understanding of what they're truly experiencing? Doesn't it always kind of feel like charity?

Looking up at the sky has always made me feel like I'm staring into infinity. I know that the sky technically has an end, but that's not how it feels. And when it's night time, the feeling is all the more intense. It's hard to feel like much of anything, staring into something so big. It's humbling. But at the same time, there's an intense rush of gratitude, at least for me. Like, it's so strange that I'm standing here, staring up at these stars so many miles away, and how can I be anything but grateful for it?

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writing since 2011 · 73 entries · 72 days shown up

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on this day 13 years ago

hannah wrote about infinity
“Looking up at the sky has always made me feel like I'm staring into infinity. I know that the sky technically has an end, but that's not how it feels. And when it's night time, the feeling is all the…”

the words hannah reaches for

wordbithardguesshelpusuallysometimesprettyeyesmeantmeanhonestlyideagreatrealhouse