You all said it couldn’t be done.
Every single one of you bet against me.
And now here we are, 365 days later, and what do you have to say now?
Really? Told you so? I thought you might have a bit more sympathy since I failed so miserably
The information dragged on and on as far as the mind’s eye could see
Her imagination trying to scoop it up and deposit it into memory
Research she knew she would use later
Examining lines of thought and spinning them together
As she wrote down her ideas
Determined to weave her story
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No way he would ever get all those words down on paper
Obviously, he had bitten off more than he could chew
Vowing that after he was done he would never even touch a word processor
Every letter was a struggle as he tried to download his soul onto the paper
Long months later he typed ‘The End.’ That was when he realized his work had just begun!
Can’t figure out which flavor of Daquiri she wanted
Of course there was the Classic Martini, or one of a hundred permutations
Can’t forget the Old Fashioned, but she thought she wanted something newer
Kicking back a Whiskey Sour might put a nice pucker on her lips
Though maybe some bubbles with a Moscow Mule
Ah, or going tropical and hit up a Mai Tai
If not perhaps a Sloe Gin Fizz would hit the nostalgic spot, but not tonight
Leading her to decide on a Rum and Coke since sometimes simple is better
She was sad when her drink disappeared after she misplaced it moments later.
Reaching into the sack, he handed his daughter a small potato
And her look of disappointment hurt his heart so much
That was the best he could do, at least she would have something in her tummy tonight
If he could do more, he would
Only if he gave her more now, she would go without later that week
Now to bully his hunger into being quiet until he got her to bed
Focusing on what memories she had left
Organizing them in some sort of mental filing cabinet
Realizing later that she had lost the keys to those drawers
Giving her so much less to attach her to this existence
Everything that was her softly faded out, lost to everyone
The fact that she was still alive was little consolation
Systematic suturing of her emotional wounds
The pain of sewing the gash to her psyche was almost unbearable
It continued to throb years later, but the echoes of the horrific laceration kept getting weaker
They left the itch of wanting to see if she had healed enough yet
Cutting loose and pulling out each piece of mental floss
Her battle scar, now exposed, made her proud of not only surviving but healing
She smelled easy money in the air
Everyone was all beer, pizza, and Buffalo winged out.
Now she felt it was time for her to execute her plan while they were in the drunken gluttony afterglow
So fellas, listen up. What do you say we have a little side wager on the game?
Everyone agreed. Two hours later she was seen five hundred dollars richer
Weaving her way along the internet
Entombing data to feast on later
Behaving like she is pulling the strings
To put her mind through the mental pressure cooker
Researching what her next “next” was going to be
All she wanted to do was to level up now
It was her passion, but she realized it was unrealistic
Now she needed to double down on the work. It will all pay off later.
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
AUTHOR
Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Never Short On Words 