Luxury

A view of "Inca de Oro" (Inca gold) town (C) in the middle of the Atacama desert, near Copiapo city, north of Santiago, Chile

Luxury is unattainable.

I am a child, luxury is a hug from my mother.

I am a young girl, luxury is a Barbie Dreamhouse.

I am a teenager, luxury is acceptance.

I am a college student, luxury is self-respect.

I am a young mother, luxury is a loving partner.

I am a survivor of domestic violence, luxury is freedom from fear.

I am a person with mental illness, luxury is sanity.

I am a woman, luxury is self-love.

via Daily Prompt: Luxury

Small not small

sprout

“How can you be so stupid!” – shrinking

“You’re imagining things!” – shrinking

“You’re not wearing that.” – shrinking

“You’re an embarrassment.” – shrinking

“Your children are afraid of you.” – shrinking

“You need to find somewhere else to stay when you get out of the loony bin.” – almost gone

[whispered] “Mommy please come home.” – sprouting

“Just get here, we’ll help you.” – growing

“I’ve got you.” – growing

“You’re so brave to have survived.” – growing

“You don’t have to do this alone.” – blossoming

“This is amazing.” – thriving

Written for The Sandbox Writing Challenge #45 – “What makes you feel small?”

echoes

hear no evil
the crash of a fist through a cabinet door

the cries of a baby being born into an unforgiving world

the silent pleas of a mother who has been denied a voice

the click of a gun not firing

the sobbing washed down the drain by the shower

the footsteps walking down the hall, going where they don’t belong

the clack of the keyboard keys behind a closed door

the muted voices of the policemen, making the wrong assumption

the click of the door quietly being closed

the slap of the hand against the cheek

the sound of a leather belt hitting the wooden bedpost

the ringing of the phone in the middle of the night

the wail of the sirens going to the wrong house

the murmuring of prayers never answered

the echoes of desperation reverberating in my brain

photo attribute: © User:Colin / Wikimedia Commons, via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

Unfixed

depressed woman with cat“Failure” was the original title. My previous posts about strength now seem trite. Failure, only applied to myself, implies weakness. Weakness implies lack of strength.

If I switch strength to determination, then a new set of antonyms exist: fear, hesitation, wavering, and unfixed are a few. I especially like the latter, as it can have more than one meaning.

Perhaps what I will tell myself is “I have permission to waver, to fear the unknown, and to recognize that I remain unfixed.”

If I am unfixed, then I have not failed. If I have determination, then I do not need strength.