The way be looks at me. Those eyes the cross mine know something. That disgusting chilling smile of an old man is something we all know. My mind keeps fixating on the little camera in Noel’s old desk. I got struck with packing it up after she had a psychotic break and quit on the spot. A camera makes sense for him. Disgusting but true. I can’t let go of the clawing feeling in me that I personally need to investigate. The nitwits working here can barely put their name correctly on their lunch in the fridge, this is above their pay grade.

How do you watch someone watching you? I feel it always. The fear in me rises with my heart rate as I struggle to sit still at my desk. My body adjusts as if I can shake it off. This mission may need to be after hours. That’s the only time I feel I’ll be able to breath and think. This man is relying on my fear to hold me back, my desire to not rock the boat. He doesn’t know I’ve been in therapy healing that shit. Rude awakening better slap him in the face.

The calm I expected from the empty office that night didn’t exist. It’s like he left his essence to seep into the walls. I look around the empty cubicles. The smiling families in little pictures on so many desks made my heart hurt. We are not humans with families to him. I snap back from my tangent and line the wall as I walk. My crazy teenage years helped me pick the lock to his office. It’s so bland and lifeless. It’s like he wants us to be like him. No, another version of him, but lower, less than. I find a peculiar cabinet thats locked. The only locked thing in the room. That tells me what I need to know. Even the lowest on the totem pole here can tell you. What’s in here equals what he thinks could fire him. A smug look sweeped across my face knowing even he could be taken down.

Nothing. There’s nothing. Did he know I was coming? No. I list all the reasons why that couldn’t be the answer. Maybe, just maybe, my brain starts to play with the idea that it wasn’t him. The cameras could be another pervy man in the office. More sleuthing? I hear sounds down the hall. I get spooked like a cat and look for my exit, there isn’t one. I crouch down behind the desk hoping I can conceal my presence. It’s Elaine. She’s my boss’s boss. The one who would fire my suspected perv. I peek out to watch her survey the office. The confidence in her walk thros me off from her weird behavior. She begins to touch things on the desks. Unusual but I’ve done it. This though, it has intention. I move closer to see and my shock may reveal me. She’s setting up a tiny camera. It’s disguised as a little company trinket. I see her link it to her phone. I don’t know tech but it’s clear even to me. She looks over quickly. We make direct eye contact through the glass wall separating us. She smiles a more twisted smile than even my boss could produce. She brings her finger to her lips with a shh. And then, ever so confidently, she walks out of the office without a care in the world. The sound of her heels ring in my ears for long after she left. My body ached but still I couldn’t be brought to move. Despite all this my ass will be in my chair for the next 2 years. Never saying a word. Some people don’t need to threaten you to keep you quiet. I could feel my biological reaction to a real predator. I was the one slapped with reality. I’m prey. I didn’t challenge that thought once during the rest of my stay at said office, I could feel the answer in me, there’s no reason to challenge a fact.

It won’t feel genuine to her, but I want it to. She’ll say it’s a lie, or our mum is responsible for this apology. She had no right telling me to though. It doesn’t matter anymore, none of it matters. She deserves to know I love her. I want her to feel it, see it, smell my perfume when I embace her.

 You deserved my yelling, my anger, my rants. You weren’t there for me when I needed you most. I’m standing over your grave because I wasn’t there for you either, not when you needed me most. I’m here now Elena. I’m trying and I’m here. And I’ll be here everyday for a long while.

Nothing changed. The awakening never happened. I’m still me. Unhappy, confused, desperate for direction. I’ve wanted this for so so long. Completely certain life would be better the second I got pregnant. Now what? I don’t know if I want this. Does he want this? I don’t know anymore. Maybe when I see them? My child, a part of me, or maybe I’ll be horrified that who I am will now reside in someone else.

Everyday I sit next to what I want to be. They’re bright and lively. Thriving despite the less than optimal conditions “our” parent provides. Shes’s theirs too. They are green, I am, what, grey, a little sad, pale green mixed in. My color fades everyday. They may be able to die but they can thrive too. I reach for the light too. I may not need it but I want it. Just to be like them.

 My reality shifted the day montie died. Monesteras are king here. His collapse gave me an epiphany. I’m immortal. Maybe I’ll find acceptance of my existence if I convice myself I’m better than them. Healthy doesn’t always mean happy. So maybe a twisted perception could lead to better places for me. Maybe the stories got it wrong. Here I am. A tiny porcelain plant figurine. Anything should be allowed to enter their villian era right?

My fingers are starting to freeze. The suffering is my indecisive nature. My body feels like its chilled through about to reach my core. And yet, there’s nothing I’d rather do less than having to make the choice to open my door. Except making the decision to walk away. Telling my mother her suspicions were correct. I don’t know what I know, but I know she cant be trusted. Could the text be from her? A test of my loyalty? Or maybe showing how easily I can be swayed by anonymous whispers? She’ll be done with her “work” soon. Whatever it is that keeps her obsessed with her “office”. Nothing is real with her. I know this. I hear movement inside and dive to the bushes. My body hates it but my mind tells me its safer than her. Gears start moving in my head as panic spikes. “Do not go home.” Does it mean inside or the entire property? Am I already too late?

 The door opens. There she is. Uptight and anxious as always. She stares straight forward. Seemingly oblivious to my presence. 

“Sweetheart, come inside,” she says in a suspiciously gentle way. My eyes widen with fear. There she stands, still, and unwavering. Staring straight into the distance as if I’m not there. I hear shaking of the trees in the distance. ‘A different sweetheart?’ my mind whispers terrified.

You are Maria Young, you are a writer, poet and an unshakable force

You are Maria Young, you are a writer, a force to be reckoned with

You are Maria, a writer…

It’s not done. It’s not done.

Focus

You know this

Tell your story

Say it

Write it

There’s not enough time

My mind is gone

Focus

It’s done

Is it?

It’s done

You’re done

Done what?

The part of me that is “good” is disturbed. The disturbed part of me is horrifically thrilled. Howard is a man of mystery. What he does with his time is unbeknownst to all. He’s the outcast in the neighborhood. This year he’s seems to be more than just a weirdo. Has he taken it to the next level? Or is he deranged enough to share his pastimes with the world? The deepest parts of me, small little bits and pieces hidden in crevices of my soul wants part in the fun. It’s true what they say, we humans all have internal desires that those next to us would reject us with disgust. Howard acted on his, displayed it has decorative pieces for Halloween. Maybe I should get to join the fun. (Unedited)

“She-she’s gone Leah”

 My brain starts to spiral. It tries to make sense of how someone can be and then, just, not. I sit down quietly, then stand. I start to pace. I want to hide in this moment. To not have to move forward. Time freezes and I want it to stay that way. I want to go to her house. Drag her out of her room like I’ve always had to do. Maybe I should’ve tried harder, picked up on the signs. The silent cries for help. I know she didn’t communicate how she was feeling, but she also really did. Emotions are coming is waves. Just adding more and more every millisecond. Confusion, denial, guilt, shame, anger. The secondary emotions of reacting to the original ones. ‘Who are I to be angry?’ I look over at her mother. How much time has pasted is unknown to me. The face she wears tells me that I can’t stay frozen here. Time goes on, and so must I.

Mia’s hair was the first sight that I could call absolutely breathtaking. The luscious curls that could shine on the gloomiest days. She has so much light emanating from every inch of her body and soul. I walk into the hallway leading to her door. Today’s our wedding. The union of our souls, our very existence. The frivolous extras of cake and partying means nothing to me. I am happy to do so but I just need to look at her. See her for her beauty, tell her fully what she means to me. All of what it means for us to be together. I take a deep breath, deciding to go with our plan of a first look before we get this thing started. I open the door to find a different woman. “No, no, don’t look at me, get out!” I stand frozen. Confusion is all over my face. She’s sees it and mistakes it for something else. Fat tears roll down her face in droves. Loud sobs that can’t be contained escape from her mouth. A heap on the floor in her dress, a destroyed wig in hand. Her head is balding. More so bald with little scraps left that have no life left to give. I quickly wipe away the look on my face for one of comfort and acceptance. I get on the floor next to her and scoop her up. “You are so beautiful, I don’t think you understand how I see you, regardless of what may change of the outside. The hair I knew shined. Now, you head shines.” She laughs with some sniffles in between. It’s true. I love this woman more than she’ll ever understand. “I mean, come on Mia, I now get to rub your bald head whenever I want!” “Really? That’s what you say in this situation?” “Yup. You know who you’re marrying.” She laughs again and scoots closer. She rests her head on my chest. The wedding is ours, it’s not possible to be late.

I’ve always read that true happiness comes from within. I don’t think those people have ever really lived. Positive thinking can’t overcome everything. The negative still lives, and it certainly will not let you forget it. My personal hell starts at 7:30 in the morning, 5 days a week. That’s not including overtime. My boss works me like a dog all for nothing. I’m meeting him this afternoon for a performance review. I’m supposed to set a goal at the beginning of the year for my growth at the company. Now, I must come up with some bullshit answer. How I found myself working with customers and clients. It’s a blue collar operation trying to be white collar. Ignorance may be bliss but so are deluded ideas. The afternoon comes and so with it a reminder of my 6 years working here. Bartender, liquor distributor, working with high up clients here and there. I’ve hated it all. “Ah Nick, good to see you. I haven’t had a lot of face time with the team lately. Let’s get right down to it,” I incredulously stare at him. I just don’t seem to have to light that others either seem to have, or disgustingly fake. “It’s promotion time! I putting you as the assistant manager at our a new branch. Best part, you get to work from home! It will require you to explore the bars in the area. Ya know, check out the competition. Just a little plus for you.” He winks and swiftly gets up. The reality of this big change doesn’t hit me till I get home. My already empty apartment will need to be packed up. I can finally start working on my cabin. A secluded spot in the woods just a few miles out from the city. I can get a dog now. Go on the lake. Peace and quiet is finally mine. It’s all happening fast and I love it. I’m at The Fishing Hole, a local bar. Checking out the competition equals me drinking. I walk up to the bar counter. Immediately I’m stunned to see who is working. She’s here, now, why? My coworker Sandra, the only person I actually liked at work. She has a way about her that feels real. Her enthusiasm isn’t as sickening. Just a small dose of sweet for the day. “I know what you’re going to say. Yes I took the offer, betrayal happened but I needed the money bad. Anyway you don’t want to hear all that.” I got my drink, and just as quickly as I got there, I left. Seeing Sandra reminded me of Katie, the youngest of the workers. I smiled at the thought. As time went on my cabin project got slower and slower. Half painted walls and ply wood in the back was there to stay. I slowly devolved into an even more empty state. I get to be free of human contact, I hate humans. All I need is myself. I don’t want to admit I miss Aunt Cheryl’s hugs when I go to her bakery. The small gestures of strangers opening doors. Someone who lets you in front of them in line. Even the feeling of getting to help someone else. A few seconds of connection that carries you just a bit throughout the day. A residual warmth. Sometimes you don’t even remember where that feeling came about. I certainly forgot. I digress, my views on humans, society, connection, it all reflects me. The longing I had for it when I was young. The embarrassment of never getting to really have it. I don’t know what I need to feel “right”, but I know I can’t discredit others anymore. I know I too need, and want my daily dose of happiness with others.