eneie18
"You got me chocolates?" she murmured, gently caressing the satin bow tied around the red velvet box. She slowly pulled the ribbon loose, savoring every moment. Inside the box was a beautiful, glittering chocolate diamond.
"Lizzy, will you marry me?"
She froze.
I like to think of my hairbrush as a microphone. I wear sparkly barrettes in my hair. Makeup is for play, not for looking better. I sing, and sparkle, and wear blue lipstick just because I feel like it.
Oh, the simple pleasures of children.
Throw your hands up! Fuck the man! Surge into the crowd, holding your posterboard signs. Jump up and down in unison, pulsing as one, pounding the beat.
These are youth in revolt.
They always tell me to be a man. And usually I can pull through, take one for the team. But when it comes to those eight legged creeps, I'm such a coward. Don't ask me to kill it, I'll just shudder. Please, don't make me give up my masculinity. Find someone else to be your spider-man.
He looked at her with alarm. "What did you say?"
She said, "I have cancer. It isn't life-threatening, but I'll need a mastectomy."
At that word, she knew she had lost him.
She walked in the door and opened the medicine cabinet. Rows and rows of them stood before her, like tiny plastic soldiers. They were colored so brightly, with white labels naming each with a multi-syllabic, impressive name. She breathed a sigh of relief, let her shoulders down, and grabbed three bottles off the shelf. “Time for my evening cocktail,” she thought.
writing since 2011 · 11 entries · 10 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Emily showed up.
4longest streak
10days written
2.3entries / week
the words Emily reaches for
rowssometimespushswiftlyinsidewalkeddooropenedmedicinecabinetstoodtinyplasticsoldierscoloredbrightly