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howtopretendtobeawriter · 18 days

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What Awaits on the Other Side

I stand now at a precipice, uneasy feet reluctant to peel away from that final inch of familiar ground as I stare over the edge. That last little bit of once-was, comfortable only in its familiarity. I had been standing here in one spot for so long that it almost began to feel safe, that this is where I was meant to be. But it was not the warmth of home that I felt, it was the pull of quicksand at my ankles, slowly dragging me down into the ease of stagnation. I know, as much as I am loathe to admit it, that things must change. That I cannot remain the way that I am forever, because I am so very tired of the way that I am.

I had been rotting for the better part of a decade now, quietly allowing the image of the man I had hoped to become wash away, picture perfect reduced into a murky, poorly defined mess. Entire days were eroding before me as I lay helplessly in my bed. Covers pulled up nearly to my ears, not because I was cold, but because they felt too heavy to peel away. This was not living, if anything it was the opposite. It was a slow way to die, sure, but it was a death all the same.

I knew that things needed to change, I wanted them to change more than I possibly put into words. But then, why was this so hard? Why did I feel that all too familiar swell of anxiety in the pit of my stomach? I was in no danger, still the urge to turn tail and run was almost overwhelming.

It was just a door. It was just a handle, like so many others. Burnished steel covered with the fingerprints of all those people who had been far braver than I. Small reminders of their accomplishment, the very same one I had yet to make. I put my hand to it countless times, sucking in that same deep anticipatory breath, only to pull away in defeat. I’d be doing this ridiculous little song and dance for nearly fifteen minutes now, somehow managing to conjure up a new reason not to step past this seemingly insurmountable threshold.

Why bother? You know it won’t help.

It isn’t worth it.

YOU aren’t worth it.

But I was. I knew I was. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be so afraid. They always say nothing worth doing is easy, which I had always believed to be a trite little platitude to pat yourself on the back with when you needed a little pick me up. But I had come to know that it was true.

“This is getting absurd, just open the goddamn door.” I whispered to myself, hushed under my breath, too worried about what some imagined reflection of myself on the other side of the door might think about me. There was no turning back now, I was tired of coming up with excuses for myself.

One last moment of hesitation. Once more steeling my resolve, preparing myself for whatever manifestation of hell might await me. I grab the handle, and twist, fighting to keep my eyes from screwing shut. Whatever it may be, it surely can’t be any worse than what awaits me back in my bedroom.

Much to my shock, it was just a waiting room, like any other. Slightly-too-bright fluorescent bulbs bathing the sparsely decorated space in anti-septic lighting, a row of hard plastic chairs lining three of the four walls, faded carpeting, and a middle-aged woman with a kind face seated behind a chest high desk, idly tapping a pen against her chin in contemplation. She turned her head from the computer screen as I step in, offering me a smile. “Hello, how can I help you today?” Some nondescript pop song played on a radio I couldn’t see, just barely loud enough to drown out the electric hum of the building.

Maybe it was the timbre of her voice, soothing and kind, or maybe it was just the sudden realization that all my obsessive worrying had been, in fact, totally for nothing. I felt a great sense of relief wash over me. A weight lifted from my shoulders, allowing my posture to relax, my lungs finally able fully draw in air. “Y-Yes.” I said meekly, hands clumsily fumbling through my front pockets. “I have an appointment, with uh—” I stopped, casting my gaze downwards as I was able to extricate a folded piece of paper.

The woman didn’t say anything, made no room to interrupt or finish my sentence. I can only imagine she’d seen this, and so much worse, a million times before. She simply smiled, waiting patiently.

“I uh, I have an appointment with… Greg? Greg, I think.” I tried to smooth out the surface of the paper, edges frayed and torn, before placing it in front of her on the desk. My own lips curling into an awkward facsimile of a smile. I was trying to fake it and failing miserably.

This too, did not seem to phase the woman. With practiced ease she pulls the paper toward herself, quickly scanning it over the rim of her glasses. “Of course, Mr…?”

“Kouzoukas, Steven is fine though.”

“Steven, okay. Greg will be ready in just a few minutes. Why don’t you take a seat?”

“Sure, thank you.” I felt a shift of perspective as she said this, a profound change occurring within my own psyche in real time. A lifting of the veil, a liberation from that all-consuming fear that had tried so hard to convince me to leave.

This was not the personal apocalypse I had been so sure it would be. This was not an end of days or some terrifying beast to overcome. This was just my first time going to therapy.

I’d be fine.

#flash nonfiction #writing #writeblr #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #therapy #depression

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howtopretendtobeawriter · 22 days

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Some of my favorite words and phrases to describe a character in pain

coiling (up in a ball, in on themselves, against something, etc)

panting (there’s a slew of adjectives you can put after this, my favorites are shakily, weakly, etc)

keeling over (synonyms are words like collapsing, which is equally as good but overused in media)

trembling/shivering (additional adjectives could be violently, uncontrollably, etc)

sobbing (weeping is a synonym but i’ve never liked that word. also love using sob by itself, as a noun, like “he let out a quiet sob”)

whimpering (love hitting the wips with this word when a character is weak, especially when the pain is subsiding. also love using it for nightmares/attacks and things like that)

clinging (to someone or something, maybe even to themselves or their own clothes)

writhing/thrashing (maybe someone’s holding them down, or maybe they’re in bed alone)

crying (not actual tears. cry as in a shrill, sudden shout)

dazed (usually after the pain has subsided, or when adrenaline is still flowing)

wincing (probably overused but i love this word. synonym could be grimacing)

doubling-over (kinda close to keeling over but they don’t actually hit the ground, just kinda fold in on themselves)

heaving (i like to use it for describing the way someone’s breathing, ex. “heaving breaths” but can also be used for the nasty stuff like dry heaving or vomiting)

gasping/sucking/drawing in a breath (or any other words and phrases that mean a sharp intake of breath, that shite is gold)

murmuring/muttering/whispering (or other quiet forms of speaking after enduring intense pain)

hiccuping/spluttering/sniffling (words that generally imply crying without saying crying. the word crying is used so much it kinda loses its appeal, that’s why i like to mix other words like these in)

stuttering (or other general terms that show an impaired ability to speak — when someone’s in intense pain, it gets hard to talk)

staggering/stumbling (there is a difference between pain that makes you not want to stand, and pain that makes it impossible to stand. explore that!)

recoiling/shrinking away (from either the threat or someone trying to help)

pleading/begging (again, to the threat, someone trying to help, or just begging the pain to stop)

Feel free to add your favorites or most used in the comments/reblogs!

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howtopretendtobeawriter · 24 days

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Hey btw, here's a piece of life advice:

If you know what you'd have to do to solve a problem, but you just don't want to do it, your main problem isn't the problem itself. Your problem is figuring out how to get yourself to do the solution.

If your problem is not eating enough vegetables, the problem you should be solving is "how do I make vegetables stop being yucky". If your problem is not getting enough exercise, the problem you should be solving is "how do I make exercise stop sucking ass". You're not supposed to just be doing things that are awful and suck all the time forever, you're supposed to figure out how to make it stop being so awful all the time.

I used to hate wearing sunscreen because it's sticky and slimy and disgusting and it feels bad and it smells bad, so I neglected to wear it even if I needed to. Then I found one that isn't like that, and doesn't smell and feel gross. Problem solved.

There is no correct way to live that's just supposed to suck and feel bad all the time. You're allowed to figure out how to make it not suck so bad.

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howtopretendtobeawriter · 25 days

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A Varied Perspective

There’s a strange feeling that strikes,

when you find yourself standing in front of the mirror.

Six AM, without your head hitting the pillow once.

You wipe the steam away from the mirror,

force yourself to make eye contact, hold it.

Ignore how much it hurts, that hinky sensation.

The one you feel in your spine just as much as you do,

deep in the pit of your stomach.

The mounting fear, each second becoming

harder and harder to bare.

You fight it, steel yourself.

Let it pass. There’s no avoiding it.

Not anymore.

You’ve put it off for too long.

You finally ask.

“Is that still me?”

Is that figure on the other side the man you knew?

Is he still the same bearded nobody, twenty-eight years to thirty?

You still recognize the look he’s giving you,

The one you knew so well, the fervent disdain.

For that blemish you call a face.

That mad dash desire to prune away everything you hate

still feels so familiar.

To leave yourself a blank canvas.

Let someone else, who knows so much better than you do,

turn it into something worthwhile.

Maybe eyes of chocolate brown, one crooked and off center

would look so much better shaded in emerald green,

finally sitting straight like they’re supposed too.

Finally blessed with the good fortune of another life.

Another name.

But then you start to notice it.

Your perspective shifts, ever so slightly.

All those delicate words from everyone you love

start to kinda sorta maybe make sense.

The lines you’d carved so cruelly around everything you’d change,

begin to fade. Growing soft and out of focus.

There’s no salt left to rub in the wound.

That cruelty you’d held onto for so long,

saved for no one but yourself, kind of feels like a waste.

Why keep that clutched to your chest, letting it rot your heart?

When there’s so many better things to do.

You don’t deserve it; you know you don’t.

If you did, tearing yourself apart like this wouldn’t hurt

the way it always has.

For the first time in so very long,

you start to smile. Watch it animate you,

light you up in a way you’ve only ever seen in others.

You don’t know why today is the today it all finally

starts to make sense. But no sense in complaining,

try not to ruin it.

You realize,

The answer to your question is no.

You don’t recognize yourself,

But maybe that’s not always such a bad thing.

After all. You’re starting to like what you see.

#poetry #writeblr #writing #poem #free form poetry

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howtopretendtobeawriter · 25 days

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A Little Introduction, I suppose

Howdy, Hi, and Hello! Welcome to my blog, whoever you may be.

I'm not especially fond of talking about myself to any great degree, so I'll try and keep this one fairly short.

You can call me Shinobi, or Steven, doesn't really matter to me! And I'm just a little freak who made this blog to have somewhere I can shove what little writing I do off into a corner of the void for maybe one or two people to see. I like to write a little bit of everything, but themes of recovering from mental health struggles will definitely be commonplace, particularly in my free form poetry. Which is a medium I only really just begin to take an interest in. (I'm too stupid for rhyming schemes. Iambic pentameter, who's that? She sounds nice.)

Other than that, I tend to favor fantasy and sci-fi type stuff! I'll likely be spilling some world building content I've been doing for a couple different settings, too.

So if that stuff interests you, feel free to give me a follow! If not, that's okay too, I still love you.

#fantasy #writeblr #writer problems #writerscommunity #writing #intro post #blog intro #introduction #scifi

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