Johanna

If there were an easy way out, Johanna would take it. She was beginning to feel like a coyote with one leg in a bear trap. She could see herself, laying there, staring at that one unfortunate leg, contemplating chewing it off. She knew how much it would hurt, but she wondered how much she would regret it, if at all.

She could hear faint footsteps, growing louder with each beat, so she sat upright. A small-faced man with round wire-rim glasses and a bushy mustache poked his head in.

"Are you going to be finished before tonight, Johanna?"

Johanna pretended to study something and then looked back up at him. "Hmm, maybe. We'll have to see."

He nodded and disappeared, leaving Johanna feeling caged and trapped again. She spun her chair around in a circle and then stared at her desk again. There was a short stack of papers on one side and a messy array of half a dozen sheets on the other. In the middle sat her keyboard and computer screen, which stared back at her with a black, empty gaze. On the other side of her desk were two chairs angled towards her, as if two invisible people were sitting there, having a deep conversation with her.

She could see them now, a woman with fine lines embedded in her face, marking the outlines of a smile and a hearty laugh, and a man with thick black hair, just starting to go grey around the edges. He leaned forward, looking over his imposing glasses at Johanna, asking her if she knew what she was doing. He seemed a little intimidating from appearance, but his eyes bespoke the kind of concern that stemmed from a deep, pure love. The woman laughed, but not cruelly, tossing her long, untamed brown hair over one shoulder. She insisted Johanna always knew what she was doing, she just simply wasn't worried about the outcome.

Johanna furrowed her brow. She was worried. If she wasn't worried, she would have already made the leap. She was about to protest the woman's claims out loud, before she realized her parents weren't really there. They weren't having this conversation right now, they were having this conversation five years ago, with a blue laminate dining table between them, not an office desk.

With the setting clear, Johanna rehashed that conversation in her head. She had protested her mother, claimed that she was worried, and tears had welled up in her eyes. Her father noticed and reached across the table to hold his daughter's hand. He didn't say anything, but he made Johanna feel a million times better instantly. Her mother had stood and walked into the other room, moving some dishes and making some noise, but coming back empty-handed. She leaned in the doorway, absorbing the scene in front of her, the man she loved most in the world, comforting her one and only daughter. The one and only daughter who wanted to pick up her things and move hours away from everything she knew, to a city she had never been to. A city that never slept, a city that moved and breathed as if alive, and a city that would swallow up this innocent, naive little girl and spit her back up in a matter of months. This woman, a mother to three boys and one girl, lived her life carelessly. She refused to worry, to consider the worst situations, or to prepare for possible ill outcomes. She had raised her daughter to approach things the same way, but she could see now that her baby girl had picked up habits from her over-thinking, always-prepared father. This girl, who used to laugh and dance barefoot down the sidewalk, was now worrying, truly concerned, and planning ahead.

Letting out a long-overdue sigh, the kind that welled up from her very heart, Johanna's mother walked back to the table and sat down. In the next few hours, both of her parents relented and agreed that this move really was the best thing for Johanna. Over the next month, Johanna packed all of her belongings into her little car and drove halfway across the country to start her dream job in her dream city.

Almost exactly five years later, she found herself feeling trapped, sitting in a chair, in front of a desk. The window behind her looked out at this dream city of hers, but all she could see were buildings and windows and smog.

Johanna wiped a tear off her face before she realized she was crying. She spun her chair around to face the window, knowing that she couldn't hold back the tears any longer. She wished that her parents were with her, right then, to tell her what to do.

She knew what they would have said, though. Her mother would say to follow her heart, to do what makes her happy, and to go where the light is. Her father wouldn't say much - he never did. He would make sure she was prepared, and he would worry about her, but he would never have told her what to do.

So what would make her happy? Where was the light? More tears rushed forth, momentarily blinding Johanna. She knew where the light was. She knew what she needed to do. She needed to chew her leg off.

Random Acts of Kindness

I had this friend, when I was younger. Neither of us had much for friends before we met, but we hit it off right away and we became quite close, quite quickly. For a few years, we were inseparable, truly best friends. People we knew hardly saw one of us without seeing the other.

As things go, however, we started to fall apart. There was never any major blowout, but we just got older. We developed our own interests, got into things, grew hobbies and found new friends. In just a few years, we each had our very separate group of friends. I didn't even notice it happening, but one day I thought about her and realized we weren't really friends anymore. It was okay though, I still cared about her. Every now and then, we'd get together and it would be like nothing changed.

In truth though, it wasn't a friendship I needed. She was very dramatic, and had a tendency to manipulate. She was very good at making you feel badly about yourself. She also had a tendency to be mad at you for days, sometimes weeks, when you didn't even know what you did wrong, and didn't know how to fix it. They were the little things that I just put up with, but when I stopped to think about it, I didn't really miss her daily friendship.

After highschool, we fell away even more. She developed a group of friends, all of whom I knew through other people, none of whom I wanted in my life. I purposefully kept my distance, watching her change, as if through a window. I didn't know anything about her daily life, but everytime I saw her, I became more concerned. She lost what little weight she had, she grew dark circles under her eyes, her face started to look hollow. I didn't do anything, though, because - well, if I'm to be truthful - because I was selfish. I was sorting out my own life, and I wasn't ready to dive elbows-deep into someone else's mess.

One day, a mutual acquaintance of ours saw her in a place I would never go. I didn't know any specifics of the situation, but I knew she was at a house that was infamous for illegal activity. I took a step away then.

Not long after that, I bumped into her, and she had her heckles raised. She did that thing she had been doing since we were little. She made it very clear that she was mad at me, without any reason as to why. I was done being passive. I confronted her, and we had it out. I said that I was honestly done being friends with her. There was a reason she wasn't apart of my life. I didn't want her mess of a life in my life, and we were done. She said several of the same sentiments, and it was over. I walked away. It is not a choice I will ever regret.

Something she let slip haunted me, though. She was pregnant. It made me mad when she said it, because I knew the father, and I was not impressed. But after all was said and done, and the thoughts sauntered through my mind, I was sad. She was pregnant. She was one of my closest childhood friends. She was having a baby. We used to talk about how we'd be like aunts to each other's children. In another life, I would have started planning her baby shower. I would have shopped for baby clothes with her, and I would have heard all of her baby name ideas. Instead, we were no longer speaking, at all.

Through other people, I heard updates on her life and her pregnancy. Her life was still a hot mess, and I was still very glad to be far away, and her baby was healthy. When she had her baby, I heard all about him, and I was even more sad.

My anger started to change, but not to regret. If I could go back, I wouldn't change a single thing. I had no regrets, but I was sad. I was filled with melancholy, I suppose.

That Christmas, my heart really started to soften. I thought about getting in touch with her and trying to fix things, but I knew that she wouldn't be feeling that same as I was.

Instead, I went shopping. I bought some things for her and I bought a bunch of baby stuff; several cute outfits and a bunch of necessities. The whole time, I was thinking about this alternate universe, where we were still friends. The one where I planned her baby shower, I helped her pick her nursery theme, and I became this little boy's aunt.

I cried as I wrapped the presents, and then carefully wrote their names on them all. I got in touch with someone who knew her, and told him my plan. He was totally in on it, thought it was great, and promised to keep it a huge secret.

Christmas day, he took a large box filled with presents to her. He never told her who they were from, never even gave her a hint, but he told me she was thankful.

I still haven't spoken to her, and we're still not friends. I don't know anything about her baby, and it's likely I never will. She still doesn't know anything about those Christmas presents, if she's even ever thought of them since. But what matters is the difference it made in my heart. Wrapping those presents took all the anger and hurt in my heart and turned it into gentleness and kindness.

Escape

I don't want to be here.

I'm trapped.

I can see out; I can see everyone else. I know what they're doing, and I know that I can't do those things.

I see them smiling, laughing, talking, playing. I see their emotions flit across their faces. I watch them frown, scowl and grin. I know what these expressions mean. I know that these people are feeling things.

But I can't feel any of it.

I'm here, trapped inside a small cell, suffocating under the weight of emptiness.

I walk around, following cement pathways, wandering in and out of buildings. I follow the others, trying to mimic what they do. I wave and turn my lips up when I see someone I know. The people I know wave and smile back at me, but they don't know. They don't know that I don't care. I can't care.

Believe me, I want to care. I want to feel. I want to laugh, bubbling over with mirth, but I can't. I want to frown, feeling my heart fill with sadness, but I can't. I want to cry, letting all of my emotions spill out, but I can't. There are no emotions.

I can't feel anything.

If only there were an escape.

If only there was a way out.

I don't usually dream when I sleep. I don't have nightmares, either. However, every now and then, while I lay sleeping, my mind will fantasize an escape for me.

I'm standing in a tunnel. The walls are rounded grey cobblestone, making an archway that stretches as far as I can see. I'll see a little blue fairy, fluttering in the air, beckoning me, leading me down the tunnel, but the tunnel gets smaller and narrower as I go. When I finally think I can't handle it anymore and I need to turn back, the fairy gets desperate. She starts motioning so hard she can't fly straight. I squeeze myself into the walls, pressing just a little farther, and suddenly everything opens up. The tunnel disappears and I find myself standing in an open field. There's no sign of cobblestone anywhere. The field is covered in bright green grass and dappled with small colourful flowers. The colours are brighter than I've seen in a long time. Everything is so intense, it hurts.

And then I wake up.

The dream always ends there, and I always find myself laying wherever I fell asleep - either in my colourless white-wash bedroom, or splayed on the couch, because I was too tired to get up and go to bed.

I think about that dream while I'm awake. I wonder about that little blue fairy. Why did she care so much? What made her care about me? Why me?

The rest of the time, I find myself trying to navigate this world, wondering if it'll always be like this.

Take something small or insignificant, and make it bigger than expected

I don't remember much from that time. There was a blur of activity, full of overwhelming lights, sounds and motions. I have fuzzy memories of a blinding light, and it all slowly coming into focus. I think there was just so much going on, I couldn't focus on any of it.

I remember before, though. I remember my friend, David. We used to spend lots of time together. We had so much in common. It was so easy to be with him, to talk to him. He used to know what I was going to say before I said it. I entertained ideas of being together forever, but I know now that wasn't meant to be. We used to have this favourite spot to eat. We'd walk there together, taking the long route, just to enjoy the trip. We'd spend hours there once we arrived, just chatting and enjoying the view. It was a quiet little place; one of those gems that no one knew really existed, and we liked it that way.

One time, David and I were eating there, just quietly watching the world around us, as we liked to do, and David looked at me. "Do you ever think about later?"

I was surprised. This was coming out of nowhere. "Later?"

"You know, when we're older. Do you ever think about it? What's going to happen, I mean."

"David, you know how I feel about that."

He laughed and dropped it, commenting on his food, instead.

I was so young. I hated thinking about the future. I don't anymore; I've learned, but back then, I didn't even want to think about the next day. I regret not continuing that conversation. What would he have said? What was he thinking? Did he have any idea what was really to come?

I never felt lonely when I had David. Even when he wasn't around, even when I was alone, I was never lonely. Now my life is resounding with loneliness. I'm not always alone, but even when I'm not, all the voices just echo my own loneliness back at me.

I should have done something. I think about it constantly, rehearsing every detail that I do remember, over-thinking every moment, hunting for that instant that I could have changed things. We shouldn't have taken that walk, we should have slept longer, maybe if I'd paused at some point, David would still be here with me. Maybe if I had done any little thing differently, he wouldn't have been ripped away from me. I know it's hopeless. I know there's nothing I can do about it now. He's gone. They say I need to accept that and move on, but how do you move on? How do you let go?

This morning when I woke, I could smell roses. The exact same roses we walked by that day. For a moment, I could hear his voice again. He was saying how red roses were far superior to pink roses. I laughed, and looked at the pink buds that were just beginning to bloom. I told him there was an innocence to pink roses, but he said there was a heady romance to red roses. I looked at him, and he held my eyes with his for a moment too long. I blinked and looked away. What was he saying? What was he thinking? If only I'd asked, if only he'd said, if only we hadn't kept walking!

Everything after that is just a blur. Maybe I was too caught up with what he'd said to think clearly, maybe I wouldn't have reacted in time anyways. 

There was a sudden flurry of loud sound, followed by shouting. I remember David pushing me, shoving me away from what was to come. There was more sound, but I couldn't see what was happening. I had fallen behind a rock, out of sight, but also where I couldn't see David. I realized David was still out there, so I emerged, but there was this blinding light. I made the mistake of looking straight at it, and I froze. I silently prayed they wouldn't see me. My own survival instincts kicked in, and I wasn't even worried about David for a moment. Mistake number two. The light left as quickly as it came, and my eyes adjusted. As everything came into focus, I realized David was gone. There was no trace of him anywhere. I spent as long as I could hunting for him, but there wasn't much to go on. The monsters that took him from me destroyed the area, but they didn't leave a trail for me to follow.

As time passed, I tried to accept what had happened. I withdrew into my shell, secluding myself from the world. When I started to accept it all, I slowly emerged. Everything was different then. People looked at me different, I saw things different. I realized that if David had done the same, I might never find him. I looked so different, I could only imagine how different he looked.

I still frequent all of our favourite spots, hoping maybe someday he'll show up. Maybe someday I can tell him how I feel. I can tell him that I never want to be with anyone else, that I never have wanted to be with anyone else. I'm afraid he'll see me differently though. I know I look different. I hear them whisper. They say I look so fragile, that there is a tragic beauty to me now.

They say David was taken by either experts or children, people who study us. They say he's either in a cage or under a pane of glass. They say that blinding light was a flashlight, and I was lucky they didn't take me. They're wrong though. I would have been lucky if David and I were never separated, no matter the outcome. They also say that we monarchs mate for life. I don't really think I can attest to that, but I like to think that's why I can't let go. David was supposed to be my mate. Now he's gone, and I'll never be with anyone else. I just hope David feels the same about me.

Get Your Write On

A friend of mine came up with an idea to get people writing. She will post a writing prompt once a week, and everyone participating is to write as much as they like about it. From there, those people can choose to share what they wrote with the group, read other posts, and give feedback. I think it'll be fun, and I really need to get myself writing more.

I've decided this little blog will be my platform for it, so look here for some short blurbs of creativity!

I will put the original prompt as the title of the post, so you know what my diving board was.

I welcome any and all feedback in the form of comments on the blog post, or really any other form.

Also, feel free to join in!