Image is this past week’s Magpietales.blogspot writing prompt.There’s a door that separates you from them. It is a cold world outside, snow and ice. You want to go inside and you’re trying to turn the doorknob, but the door is locked, turn and pull as you may.  As though  God mocks you, there are glass windowpanes in the door. You see everything going on inside the illuminated room. But they can’t see you. You bang on the door and try to break  the glass, anything to make them hear you. You now feel as though you aren’t real. Are they a figment of your imagination or are you a figment of theirs, a random irksome  thought consigned to the dregs of someone’s mind soon to be forgotten altogether? Look at them, look how the beautiful people reside in there.  They are perfection, they are you if  you could stop being you. If you could have done anything you wanted, if you could have been loved…

 

“Oh sweet and gracious heavens! What is this crap?” asks Nervous Nelly, looking over your shoulder.

Pardon?

“You know what I mean. THIS IS CRAP!”

Well, crap seems a bit harsh. I was  trying for a delicate, sensitive piece about…

“CRAP!”

Um no. So I am feeling a bit down and thought I would impart my sorrows on my blog. That isn’t a crime is it?”

“It is when you write CRAPPP!  And W. T. F. is it with this writing in the second person  shit? You this, you that, YOU CRAP!”

Well, thought it would be different and doused in melancholy it would be poetic and….

Yeah, whatever, Sybil.

 

‘Oh, woe is me, I’m turning 33, and I still haven’t lost my virginity.

My life’s a mess, Oh distress!  Oh distress!

OCD and melancholy  in an ugly dress!

Even Jesus Christ, at age 33 could walk across the sea,

but alas not me, never me,

I haven’t saved anybody.”

I’m not that bad of a poet! You protest, but Nervous Nelly continues to  fuss about addressing yourself as ‘you.’

http://www.bartleby.com/123/62.html

 


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