steffpsb

steffpsb

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my cousin once took a bite off a fake fruit i had sitting on my kitchen counter. i felt strangely proud, like i had stuff that looked so good i could fool him, i could fool anyone.

stern

He gave me sixty stern looks in the past hour, a hundred and forty two yesterday and three thousand fifty six last month. Each were engraved in my brain, pulsating like a fresh wound about to gush out blood. I laughed at my terror.

My skin would go from transparent to luminous periodically. When I was with her, it happened weekly. Some days you could see me in the dark and through sunlight and I felt complete.

cone

I tried calculating the dimensions of my embarrassment, tried to put my feelings into numbers since I've failed to put it into words. All I could come up with was a three cubic centimeter white, weather resistant cone.

i have spent my entire life chopping logs. there are life lessons in it, but they are only in the aesthetics of geometry. i have never found such a thing as futile and beautiful as admiring the curvature of the line drawn in the air by a deadly weapon aimed at something that died years ago. i can spend my whole life in the woods, never feel the need to speak another word.

the panic shot up her spine causing her to sit up right, to look up at him, his stare puncturing a like dagger, an upright man predator-like about to

the evocative form of the ordinary ordinance is engrained in my brain after dawns and sunsets of trivial occurrences until they impregnate my intimacy and I theirs so our existences become intertwined in such a way a cup of coffee only makes sense sitting near me and I near it.

I know im not one to remember much, but I look back to that night – the one we said our goodbyes – and I remember everything. How we hugged for long in silence. I remember your scent and your curls resting on my cheek. I remember shivering, wrapped around the cold wind and inside your arms and the dimly lit street. The faint rain hitting our faces and the moonlight too, and I remember stars, just not in the sky. I remember them in your eyes. And in between all the starry nights I remember, this was the most beautiful one.

This is a strange time in my life. I keep floating between memories that don't make much sense anymore. They are becoming shapes and colors and smells and feelings, and they always take me here, under a cloudless sky hovering over me. The blue is so intense that it looks like a roof itself and I don't feel outdoors, I feel at home. You see, I don't think I'm even here anymore.

He was the instigator. He had started it and I wanted to scream that at the top of my lungs but I was in a sea of fear and I was out of my depth. He had come into my life to turn it upside down. He tried to grab all my feelings in his hand but they weren’t small enough and it hurt, and well, I supposed he was the instigator of every disaster that had happened, even me.

writing since 2014 · 15 entries · 13 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means estefania showed up.

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on this day 9 years ago

estefania wrote about upright
“the panic shot up her spine causing her to sit up right, to look up at him, his stare puncturing a like dagger, an upright man predator-like about to”

the words estefania reaches for

rememberinstigatorfeelingsnearsensebrainscreamtoplungsfeardepthupsidegrabhandhurtsupposed