Inside The Frame

Thank you Simon for challenging me. I’m still not sure about it.

Photo shows our faces smiling
Eternal love placed in a frame.

Outside shows faces contortimg
unbeknownst inside the frame.

Anger in our faces rising
Never betrayed by the frame.

Tempers uncontrolled and hurling
Shattered faces broken panes.

Shawn – Dream and Fiction 1

I regained consciousness with a tube in my trachea, many more attached to my body, and an expression on your face that I could not discern.

I tried to tell you that I remember the accident in its entirety and ask if anyone survived. If anyone died, my life would be truly pointless. The others in the car were my mom, sister, nephew, and your parents.

If my sister died, her children would become orphans, as their father died nearly two years ago. If she survived and my nephew died, she would be devastated with the loss of a child and a spouse, within two years. If my mom and your parents died, we would have the loss of both parents in common, along with our love of football (soccer as others call it). The possibilities were endless. I needed to know that all others survived.

You left the room. You left again. I tried to yell for you to come back. You leaving is what helped this chain of events. I know it sounds selfish, but I need to know your intentions from that night and why you ran away from me.

The tube prevented any of those words from escaping and I blacked out.

I remember the day we met. I was at the apartment office making sure my rent payment cleared. You were applying for your residency. You asked how long I lived in the community and if I would recommend it to a friend. I responded 12 years and I did just recommend the last unit to a friend, so you were probably SOL due to that recommendation. I quickly added a, “Just kidding and good luck” to my response. You asked me my name and I said and spelled it. It is a difficult name to spell. I returned the question. You answered. I asked you if it was spelled with “ea, au or aw” as it could be spelled many different ways. You told me you would text me for the avoidance of doubt. I retorted that it was a clever way to ask for someone’s phone number, but I gave it. My phone buzzed with your number and the word “Shawn”.

Wanna Participate?

Revis and I need your help! Click over to his blog and provide your argument for fiction’s best assassin. Is it the terminator? Is it the winter soldier? Is it a character from a book you are currently writing? Throw their name in the hat and then we’ll let the blogosphere decide on the best!

33 Grams of Blog

A while back, I did a post asking for others to help me debate who fiction’s greatest archer was. I asked that anyone who wanted to participate should write a post and link up to my original post. Only two people besides me did it. In retrospect, I realized that what I asked was probably too much work for most people to do. After all, we’re all busy people.

So when Matticus and I started talking about a new Versus matchup, I got the idea to try this idea out again, only this time I won’t be asking you to do an entire post on it.

The topic of this particular Versus episode is: Fiction’s Greatest Assassin.

If you would like to participate, all you need to do is comment your choice and give at least 2 or 3 sentences on why you think your choice is Fiction’s Greatest Assassin…

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down at the crossroads

I wonder if I have come to a crossroads… though, it’s truly more like a multi-branch intersection or even a roundabout but that fails to have the same musical allusion, so… and the decision I make next will greatly impact the path I travel for the next little bit.  I guess the good thing about this, if it is in fact a turning point, is that I can always walk back to this point and choose a different direction.  Whatever I choose does not have to be forever.

I have way too many started but unfinished writing projects… and I’m thinking about publishing them here as is so I can start over fresh on something new, without the guilt of these works-in-progress hanging over me.

If I were to take what I’ve written and schedule it out into nice little bite sized pieces of 300-500 words (or full chapters depending on the project), I would have daily posts for the rest of this year and well into the next…

Or…

I could set them aside for later, as I have been doing, because maybe one day I’ll have the energy to complete them…

Or…

I could stare at them one at a time until inspiration hits and I’m able to add words to them and eventually maybe I’d get one, or all, ready to publish.

So, here I am needing to pick a direction and unsure which one to choose.  I’m stalling, choosing none and therefore doing nothing.  The easiest would be to continue on us I have been, start a new project I’m excited about and not worry about the half-finished ones cluttering up my writing folder.  The next easiest would be to admit I’m not going to finish them and let them go, share them with you, my faithful kingdomites.  The hardest would be to force myself to finish them…

And admitting that is kind of a hard truth, right?  Does that mean I’m not really a writer, that I’m not really a novelist?  I’ve been trying to convince myself that I’m an author for 4 years now and perhaps it is time to set my aspirations a bit lower?  When I’m not excited to put in the work to actually finish any of these projects… but I have published before… but those were all projects with other writers, other authors and so I was able to hold myself accountable to finish my parts through peer pressure… but I have published before… but but but…  Here I am talking myself in circles and still doing nothing.

So, I find myself at a crossroads and need to pick a direction.

The Note I Almost Wrote

It has been more than 30 years since my attempt. It is misconception that a suicide requires a note. I had one written in my mind. It has stayed with me along with many of the prevailing feelings. The triggering beast lingers with a glance or (un)spoken word. Here it is.

Dear Daddy, Mom and (Sis),

Thank you all for deciding to be gone today. When you return, I will be gone. My body will be here and for that, I apologize. The mess that I am will be gone.

I don’t want to write this because if I fail, just add it to the list.

You may have noticed that ‘A’ doesn’t come around much. I told her to stay the fuck away.

Daddy, I said horrible words to you…they were awful enough to make you put hands on me. The idea was to make you believe sis was better. I think to an extent it worked. Our relationship changed in the weeks after that.

If I fail I will have to accept accountability.

I am nothing but a fuck up. If it is not fucked up and I touch it, it will die (aka I will have fucked it up).

You all don’t need that.

I love you and I do apologize.

Jaded.