effiefelix

effiefelix

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I burrow into my feelings and my deepest nightmares, layers upon layers of discarded information that built up over years like soil deposits. Reflection, real reflection, is an archaeological dig. You find yourself sectioning off the area into blocks and keeping track of what sites, what points in time in your life were the most active, which had something unique about them compared to the other years. I feel old. It hurts to see how much, how many parts of me, I've buried all this time.

chain

We'll see about the chains, I whispered, low. And they laughed, for they knew it wasn't in my power to decide. They took me to a room. It had a chair, and a rope. They tied me to it. It was the first in a chain of events I would never have predicted.

side

I chose the side who'd rather die. So I deserved what came next. That, when night descended, and the first shot shook the block, and the first crash of glass shattered my mind, that as the people yelled and screamed in arrhythmic war chant for release, and the raids began and the tear gas poured and we collapsed over each other, suffocating, With every egg they've snatched, with every shell they'll try to crack, poking and prodding to see just what caused all the chaos and rioting. They'll all be empty compared to what I have in me.

side

I see my old self, in the space where time transcends the rib cage, transforming iron bars to sun rays, the cement beneath her bare feet soft grasses, painfully recreating a world in which I have let her free. Lying on your side, you speak to me of all the lives you've never lived. The smile betrays your lines not from laughs. I know your true intent. Don't hope that I'll relent. These visits only keep written note of your dreams that I may twist and burn them and toss the ashes to the seas.

half

One and a half seconds and he goes in to kiss me. Ha! I don't like where this is going. Half of me wants to be in a hot air balloon sailing the skies, soaring past mountains, adrift in the clouds, seeing the sunsets. Spending the night with the fire overhead igniting our passage as we gaze at the towns glowing letting the stars determine our course. With our supplies in a picnic basket we sail the world. Pull away from me, town boy. I'll not be held back. Then again, come with me. And learn what it means to kiss.

want

Don't even use that word with me, as if I'm a whiny brat who just wants this. No, I need it. This is a part of me, an everlasting fire fueled by conviction, determination, passion, love. This is the most sincere, dedicated part of my soul. Not, "I know what I want", but, I know who I am. And there is a part of me, this innermost, most beautiful part, that cannot go without this.

What a waste of words. The writer, my love-- he paused, inhaled his incensed cigar-- should not seek approval. But as he continued to drawl, all she could think of was how she, the tightrope walker, balanced the thread, did her tricks-- and with every acrobatic feat, she turned and beamed; they loved her work, she did it exceptionally well-- she didn't write to stir the masses, or to disgruntle them, although it could happen in the process, nay: she wrote, full of love.

texts

They poured, together, over the ancient tomes. Faces paved in a tomb. The library reeked of decay, dusty, damp.. it had been abandoned sometime, in the aftermath of the shootings. What sadness, that all those who preceded them had been denied such haunting experiences.

texts

It came as a threat; the words, "Let him falter, or he shall see light." For I had not been accustomed to such talk. Falter, or light? It was precisely that kind of comprehension he did not want to come to terms with. He would rather have stumbled; who was I to deny him his own desires?

texts

My husband doesn't love me anymore. I realize this as I send him text after text, and he doesn't reply. I flip through text after text, waiting for him to come home. And he doesn't-- he didn't even pack his bags. One day becomes one week and I worry. I try to call him, every day. I file a Missing Person Report. Every second threatens to choke me, to strangle me, but still I live, and two days later, I'm informed: He is alive. He is in E__________. Again, I remember: We had exchanged a few words, they hung briefly in the air. He said he had to go out. His footsteps crossed the threshold... I never saw him again. The fingers loosen their grip on the handle. Now he will never see me.

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writing since 2011 · 36 entries · 28 days shown up

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

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28days written

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on this day 14 years ago

Effie wrote about side
“I see my old self, in the space where time transcends the rib cage, transforming iron bars to sun rays, the cement beneath her bare feet soft grasses, painfully recreating a world in which I h…”

the words Effie reaches for

lovelightnowsmilepasteyesbeautifulsunwordsexistencestandingnightrealizefirealonestop