Breathe

Breathing is ephemeral. I find the act of breathing interesting. During the inhale and exhale of breathing, many noteworthy events can occur, but at the same time nothing can happen. A breath of air is in essence useless, but it carries life.

In an effort to catch my thoughts, to translate the impulses of axons into words, I decided to hold my breath. I thought if I can freeze this moment, if I can stop in the middle of the journey, I’ll be able to collect my thoughts, to reach a conclusion.

Sadly, my lungs cannot stop the unavoidable and I have to take a breath. If I had to get my point across, if I had to convey the complexity of my thoughts I would have to be concise. But my thoughts race too fast for my fingers to keep up; they’re always turning a sharp corner, chasing an obscure tangent thought.

But it’s still not enough and any second my lungs will give in. I’ll finish the journey, a little bit closer to the end of the thought maze but never finishing. And just when I exhale, I’ll be wishing for another breath. I’ll be wishing to hold on a little longer so I can get closer to the end of that thought. (via)

Beauty

The only image I think of when I read “Beauty,” is of me love struck during high school. I used to think I was in love. It was beautiful, in a sense, but mostly naïve. I felt like this school girl swooning over the captain of some team that wouldn’t give me the time of day. Eventually, I found closure with myself.

This (the actual post), is an excerpt from a poem I was writing. It’s funny that I seem to still lean towards Athena’s side when in love. It’s almost as if I have this obsession on becoming her embodiment.

I remember it clearly & when I confessed
It felt like I was reciting a summary from my heart.
The written word from my soul was like a Classic
Written a century ago about life’s mysteries.
As words came out of my mouth
I felt every anxiety, every fear & every joy.
The essence taking over my being, and
Although I knew the prophecy of the Oracle
I, like Oedipus tried to run from faith

Intelligence & Love fought one another
Athena in the east
Love in the west
Oh, but love’s superficial skin-deep wounds
did nothing to the strength of thought’s shield

Now you know why I don’t write poetry. (via)

Innocence

It smelled of sweat and body lotion. The music drowned the whole place, emitting this sound that acted as a pulse to the party. It gradually increased in speed, taking the participants from sensual to sexual in an instant. He didn’t like this place.

He lingered in the front, taking in all the room. Another man pushed him forward, urging him to find a suitable worker. He hesitated. Eventually he managed to take steps forward, eyeing a woman in the back swaying her hips back and forth. It was hypnotizing.

“Ah,” the man yelled, “I see you love them blonde.” He finished his boasting with a powerful brotherly blow to the back and a wholehearted laugh. They continued their path towards the woman, stopping to steal a few glances at the other workers. “Welcome Boys,” they’d say, “fancy anything?” He looked ill. He didn’t want to be here. The other man was glassy-eyed. He was in heaven. “You can fancy this,” he’d say, grabbing a hold of his dick and thrusting the air in front of him.

The woman continued to dance and he couldn’t help but stare. The other man whispered something that was drained by the music. She gave a weak smile. She received a wad of cash, and the other man followed a brunette that just passed by.

“Sit down,” she said, in a forced way. “I can tell it’s your first time.” She danced on top of him. Thud. She faced him and smiled, taking off her bra. Her breasts were beautiful. Her nipples were pointed. Thud Thud. She continued to dance making –Thud– her breasts gently hop up –Thud Thud Thud– and down. Thud. His heart was deafening. He could’ve sworn she was dancing to his heartbeat.

She gave a surprised “ou,” –ThudThudThud Thud Thud– as she grinded on his crotch. Thud. He had a hard on and a small wet spot was rapidly increasing. “Don’t worry,” she whispered in his ear. Thud. She unzipped his jeans and took hold of it. He caught his breath and his heart had stopped. In that moment he wasn’t alive. It was all too much. She moved her bikini bottom to the side showing a shaved vagina. He whimpered.

She jumped up and down making sure that he was completely in her and then almost out. His moans were now louder than his heartbeat. Ahh Thud AHH Ohh Yes Thu-OHH. She too was enjoying herself. Her moaning was fast and constant. He didn’t want this to end. He couldn’t breathe, she was getting louder and then…and then, it was over. A minute had passed.

She got up and began to walk away, cum dripping down her leg. He reached out, grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Wait,” he begged. “It can’t just en- We can d- Can I at least have your name?” He wasn’t sure what to say to her.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, coolly. “It was my first time too.” (via)

Dark

“What you see is what you get,” seems to be my life motto.

From the moment I moved west, I’ve gotten more and more solidarity. I ate alone during lunch time on my first school day. It didn’t change as the year progressed. People avoid me at all cost.

It’s almost as if I have a highly contagious disease that spreads throughout my surrounding. The halls part as I walk by, I’m not school royalty, I’m a jester. People point and laugh. They push me. Once they beat me.

They speak to me slowly and loudly, implying that I can’t understand English. I have an accent. It doesn’t help the situation. Outside of school is no different. The stares I receive at the market. I’m not here to steal.

In the elevator women grip their purses tighter and men grip their women closer. All these little details add up, their actions become patterns and I understand how I’m viewed.

Yes, what you see is what you get: if all you see is skin a shade (or two) darker, then that’s all you’re going to get. (via)

Light

A spider crawled up my leg; I didn’t think much of it despite being terrified of them. It traveled from my toe to my calf at an alarming speed and it multiplied in size much faster than it traveled. Soon it was larger than my hips, its fangs oozing out a slimy green substance. I lay motionless.

I picked up my sword and slashed it in half in one swing. It splashed green liquid all over me, dissolving my clothes. This was the sixth daughter of Arachne I’ve battled. They were out to gain the approval of Athena. Athena had long urged my father, Apollo, to be rational, to kill me. The gods disapproved of demigods. Some sided with Athena, and pleaded Zeus to destroy me, but Zeus having fathered many demigods decided to stay out of it.

Apollo had come to me when I was 16 and told me to brace myself. The gods were planning tests to prove my worth. If I had passed them all, I would be able to live among the gods. I continued to lie on the floor, the spider’s body next to me. Sometimes I wished Apollo didn’t court my mother. Sometimes I wished that during nights like these, I was killed by the spider’s pincers. This wasn’t for me.

But in the darkest of nights, there was always a strange shimmer of light, a sign from my father. It was as if he was telling me that everything will be alright. With the rise of my bow, a ray of light will pierce the night, pierce my enemies; a ray of hope that I too, one day, will enjoy the acceptance of Mount Olympus. (via)

Love(less)

One of the few things I fully understand about myself is how I view love. I have this very idealistic view on love, and despite that, I avoid it at all costs. (Okay, maybe not all costs; the sporadic lovely moments are truly welcomed).

Unfortunately, what I see as true love is something I find truly boring. It’s nice but I need some unbalance in my (love) life. I want love that is more beast-like than human; a love that feeds upon our passions, our physical beings and our minds. I want to be filled with anger, angst and ardor. I want to feel emotions ooze out of my lover’s pores. I want to make the taboo love we share the norm.

Ultimately, these desires have taught me one thing: I have to love the ugly parts of me first. I need to wear my insecurities with a smile. Although I’ve come a long way, I don’t think I’m ready for such a huge commitment.

I need to escape my life. I need to run away to a foreign country. I need to bask myself in the unknown and find something worthy of knowing. Ah, that’s what I call love, diving into the black abyss and finding light. (via)

An Introduction

"A Hundred Scripts" is a project, that I hope will allow me to write more regularly. The idea stemmed from another blogger, Kevin, who posted 100 words to write about. I decided to take those words and create "A Hundred Scripts." The idea is to write whatever comes to mind about the 100 themes.
Therefore, 100 Themes, 100 Scripts.

Eyes are marvelous things. We all have a pair. Some of us have 20-20 vision, others need contacts/glasses, some, unluckily, are partially or fully blind. Despite that, they are still marvelous things.

They are the way we see the world. We all perceive everything differently. To introduce myself - I would have to let you understand the way I perceive things.

I need contacts. The time I feel that I can truly see the world is when I’m standing in front of my bathroom mirror taking off my contacts. When I take off one of my contacts - a whole side goes blurry. I begin to mix the perfect vision of one eye, and pure blur. It becomes a fuzzy image, that’s what I love seeing.

You see, when I see my fuzzy reflection, I am able to blend what could be and what is. I blend my reality and my imagination. That’s how I perceive the world: a realist with a pinch of imagination.

I am a realist that adds color to the black & white world through his imagination. Occasionally I would blend the two, creating a fuzzy beautiful world. (via)