Charlotte Poitras
You need to write to become a writer. My shoes once gave me a great advice : “Just Do It.”
Charlotte Poitras
You need to write to become a writer. My shoes once gave me a great advice : “Just Do It.”
You need to write to become a writer. My shoes once gave me a great advice : “Just Do It.”
You need to write to become a writer. My shoes once gave me a great advice : “Just Do It.”
In days of plenty, life was grand, Wealth flowed like water, at my command. But now I stand, a different fate, Struggling, hustling, against the weight.
From penthouse views to paycheck strife, Lost in the maze of financial life. Yet I won't crumble, won't be confined, I'll rise anew, in the grind I'll find.
Status and fortune, they come and go, True strength's inside, a steady flow. Through ups and downs, I'll redefine, What it means to thrive, to truly shine.
Amidst the night's embrace so deep, Where dreams and secrets often creep, The sky full of stars, a shimmering sight, Guiding us through darkness with their light.
But time does pass, as stories unfold, And change takes hold, both young and old. The sky full of stars seemed dead and cold, A place once so magical now hurt to behold.
Cells kill themselves all the time. And that’s actually a good thing. Otherwise, they would duplicate endlessly. That’s what causes cancer.
That’s why I started working on a cure that would lead to apoptosis in cancerous cells. It’s kind of a message that tells the cells to kill themselves. We can focus only on the malignant ones. Once they die, the cancer dies too.
After trials on animals, we tried to use this cure on humans. During the experiment, all hundred of them were cured, including those who were in the final stages. We had finally found a cure for all cancers.
I never thought cell apoptosis would lead to human apoptosis.
Less than a year later, they all ended killing themselves.
“I am not talking to you anymore.” -C
“Fine, I don’t want to talk to you anyway.” -V
“Then why are you talking to me?” -C
“You sent a message first.” -V
“Exactly. I am writing, not talking.” -C
“So, should we keep communicating this way?” -V
“The teacher might catch us.” -C
“And she’s the one who said we should not talk to each other.” -V
“Let’s just talk during the break.” -C
“Good. TTYL.” -V
“You’d have to be an absolute fool to believe that!” I shouted.
“I swear we never went to the moon,” he explained. “It was filmed in a studio so the United States could win the space race.”
“And you believe in the MOON?” I added. “Don’t you know it is a hollow spacecraft that aliens use to spy on us?”
I always like to replace a conspiracy theory by an even worse conspiracy theory.
“It’s not fear I smell, it’s future,” encouraged the scientist.
“No, I’m pretty sure it smells sweat, and it smells bad,” I disagreed.
I have been participating in a study attempting to prove that humans are also attracted to pheromones. That means I had to sweat profusely in a shirt that they will ask women to smell. I was a bit uncomfortable with that idea.
“You see how people get closer to each other when they watch a scary movie?” he added. “We are trying to recreate this sensation.”
I looked at my shirt that was fully wet, with yellow stains on the armpits. How would a woman ever be attracted to that?
“And if no one picks me?” I asked.
“You’ll never know” he answered. “And what if someone picks you? Would you like to meet her?”
I never thought I would be meeting a woman this way, but it was worth a try.
People around me started disappearing one by one. These weren’t people I used to get alone with, so I didn’t mind that much at first. Until I realized that the only thing they had in common was that, in some point in their lives, they had been in contact with me.
There was the girl who used to bully me in high school ten years ago. My first boyfriend who gaslighted me. The teacher who humiliated me every day in class… and then it started being more subtle.
A guy who once followed me home so I had to call the police. The car driver who almost hit me. The cashier who accused me of stealing even though I didn’t do anything. I had only seen them once, but somehow, it was enough for them to disappear.
Then I realized the second thing they had in common. They had all hurt me. I once used to wish they would get hit by a train. I wouldn’t be driving the train or throwing them in front of it, I just wished something happened. They had disappeared because I once wished, even for a second, that they would be dead.
Then it hit me.
I had sometimes wished the same thing for myself. Whenever I made a big mistake, I thought that I did not deserve to live, that I had to be punished. I never attempted to kill myself, but sometimes, I had thought about it.
Did I deserve to die for the small mistakes I made? I didn’t think so anymore. It didn’t matter now. I had moved on from those mistakes. But it was too late. I once thought I would rather be dead and my wish would soon be granted.
I disappeared before I could ever forgive myself.
Nothing happened on February 5th 1996.
I mean, nothing uncommon.
No end of the world, no coming of the new prophet, no celebrity died.
The cover of the Journal de Montréal was that the Canadiens de Montréal had lost a hockey game again this week, so nothing special.
An average child was born to average parents.
She had an average weight.
Average size.
Average features.
The birth didn’t go well, but it didn’t go bad either, nothing special.
She had normal family, normal parents, and normal siblings.
A dad, a mom, three kids, and a golden retriever who lived in the suburbs.
The baby had a name, but most people won’t remember it.
She sincerely had nothing special.
Do you want the good, Or the bad news first? I know maybe I should, Not start by the worst.
Your parachute worked well! Isn’t that good to hear? Bad news is when you fell, There was no place to land near.
Good news could be, That with two legs broken. You can’t run free, So you won’t try again.
“So you’re…”
“Yes!” the bride answered with stars in her eyes.
“That’s why you wanted us to get married so fast?” wondered the groom.
“I wanted to make sure you’ll be there for me.”
“I’m the happiest man in the world.”
He kissed her and put his hand on her stomach.
“How long?” he asked.
“I just found out about it. That’s why it doesn’t really show” she lied. “But don’t worry, you’ll see it grow pretty soon.”
“So, it will be born around…”
“February. Like my mother.”
“Oh, that’s kind of early. I was thinking April, even May.”
“That’s what the doctor said. We’ve always had premature babies in the family.”
That day, she walked down the alley to marry a man who would always be there for her, no matter what, forgetting the one who had ran away before him.