Scratches

The scratch of pen on paper - that’s what it’s all about at the end of the day, right? That’s what it’s always been about. Sometimes it’s scratches that turn into bytes, pen and paper that becoming clacking keyboard keys. Sometimes it’s someone else’s scratched out thoughts you turn to in books and blogs and memes and stories. Sometimes it’s an essay, sometimes a hurried cube drawn on the corner of a napkin, used and discarded and never thought of again. But always, permanent or ephemeral or somewhere in the long road in the middle, always it’s the scratches you turn to, to make sense of it all. Sense of the bruises and the cuts and the muddled befuddled puddle of thoughts in your soul, sense of the clouds drifting across the roiling landscape of your mind, the butterflies blossoming in your stomach, the cracks forming and freezing over and melting in your chest, the wheezing insecurity in your lungs as your heart alternates between a beat of “not enough” and “just this”.

Just some scratches, runes, hieroglyphics. That’s all there is to us.

~ Sam 

Venting

This whole stereotype that the fat girl who is never seen eating is dieting.

Pisses.

Me.

Off.

It doesn’t matter if it’s true in a given scenario. Why is that conclusion the first to be jumped to anyway? Why is any conclusion jumped to? Why can’t we just shut up and accept the explanation given to us-and if we don’t accept it, keep our goddamned stupid opinions to ourselves? 

More on stereotypes, we do tend to stereotype a lot, don’t we? I learned this the relatively hard way, when one of my closest friends told me she thought I was an arrogant nerd the first time she saw me, and another now-close friend admitted she thought I was a scary bitch. I laughed (duh-me, scary or bitchy, really?) but when you think about it…I wonder how many of the stereotypes I’ve created in my head, intentionally or not, have been as wrong as theirs were.

Revelling in her scary-bitchiness,

~Sam.