“Well, dear. I firmly believe that every one of us has some powers. Each different, that affects differently others around us. One is more visible, the other is not. But I am certain that such unexplainable powers do exist and we only need to find them inside us”
– Grandma from Viridian – The legend
Oookay, it has been a long time since any kind of a post, especially a behind the stories one! Which means, you can read the latest one titled Slivers. (And share and like and whatever if you liked it. 🙂
Now, I wouldn’t take too much of your time explaining the content of the story simply because I think it speaks for itself.
However, I would gladly read your opinions in the comments!
In short, it’s a clear (character?) development that everyone – inclusively – goes through in life one way or another. But! What really important about this story is that it was actually written for a short story contest. No, actually not, when I started writing it I just felt so dang exhausted and exploited that it somehow just started to write itself and then I worked more on it to be qualified for the contest. So I’m just going to keep going with that. But still…
The three best stories won money and the twenty best stories – including the first three – got landed on pubic advertising boards across the country. Imagine this! How awesome would it be to be published like that especially for the very first time! Needless to say, my story couldn’t make it to the twenty. And it hurt a lot because I thought that this is the best I have ever written so far. Actually it is. And it all felt in vain. I admit it I let myself mourn over it a bit because while I was waiting for the results, I started working on another story for another contest with so much passion that I have not felt in years and it ruined it all for me. I didn’t want to sit and write regardless of the fact that I haven’t written anything in years and I was motivated enough to come up with two different ideas at least due to this contest. I just didn’t like how it felt. I didn’t want to be run down by this, it just seemed useless and it completely took away the fun of it. One single contest…really?? No. I’m not even sure if they read every submission at all to be honest.
Then I remembered why I had created this blog. I did this because I didn’t want to sit and wait for someone to decide if my stories worth to be shared I just wanted them to be shared. No, actually they want themselves to be shared. They always do… Needless to say it always feels good if you get acknowledged or appreciated for what you are doing…BUT I started to write for my own sake, to feel free and to get rid of everyday stress and to understand more of myself and my anxiety. Rethinking about this calmed me down and regained interest in my stories. So basically, I won.
Now, I’m hesitant if I should participate in that other contest or not because I don’t want to focus on whether I win or lose but I’d rather focus on creating something that has ME in it. Full caps. Yes, that’s it. That’s the most important. Guess this is also part of the learning process. Either way, I’m not saying that now I’m going to post to my blog twice a week but doing some more creative work is the plan and to find the fun in it again and then…we’ll see the rest.
Now if you haven’t done so go and read Slivers! 🙂
In the beginning, it was a rough block of marble standing in the middle of an empty warehouse. Only darkness and silence was around and some small shards of dust kept it company, shimmering from the dim light that came through the small windows on the ceiling.
But one time, the heavy door of the warehouse slowly opened with a creak and heavy, blinding light filled the space. That light was gentle and warm, and dazzlingly bright at the same time. Had the block had eyes, it would definitely have squinted, and maybe it would even have put its arms in front of its face if it had any. But had it done so, it wouldn’t have seen the silhouettes of people appearing in the light. It would have not seen them walking all around it, nor would it have felt some gentle hands stroking its surface, leveling its sharp ends. Slowly, it became rounder and smoother.
Later on, another, strange shape peeked inside from the light. A small and playful one, followed by another and another. A group of little children crowded inside. At first they did not find interest in the shapeless substance, they made their own playground of the warehouse filling it with delightful laughter. But soon enough, on a whim, they decided to make a little friend of their own out of that big and hard ball. They began coloring and shaping it and sometimes they just ran off to chase those glittery shards floating around. When the time had come, they said goodbye to their contorted little friend and left it alone in the dark.
Thereafter a new day broke on the dark building. This time it was different. Not so glaring but warm and peachy instead. New, unknown people came, each unique in their own ways, different from the previous ones. Some stopped abashed by the sight of the doodles that covered the shape, while others found their long forgotten toys in the scattered colorful piles. Now, they were not only playing with it; some of them talked to it, others cleaned the paint off of it and began scraping it while they were crooning softly. It was not shapeless anymore but started to resemble its visitors; a pair of arms and legs and a round face framed with long and wavy locks. Those gentle hands even put a light linen dress on it.
The weather turned wintry outside and the night breeze frosted onto the hair of the statue like white little flowers. A dim light approached, a young man came with a torch in his hands. He stayed longer than anyone else before. He put the torch on the ground, it filled the warehouse with warm light. He was staring at the statue bewildered while he was slowly walking around it. He was truly surprised that something like this could be found at such an abandoned place. Then, he gently grabbed her arms and put her in a sitting position and tilted her head high up. He smoothly put some wandering hair behind her ears revealing her lovely face and knelt down and smoothed the creases on her dress. Now she had become a very picture of a gracious young lady. Had he been looking upwards, he would have seen that the statue was looking down at him with a smile on her face. Just as if he had sensed it he looked up right in the eyes of the statue. Eyes wide open he smiled back at her and put her hands in her lap. They were looking at each other like this for a long and long time. He was mesmerized by how the light of torch flickering in the statue’s eyes.
But just like for everyone else, the time for the young man to leave had come. Just like everyone else before, he put the chisel down and turned toward the entrance. He made sure not to leave the door open this time. As he left, the draft stirred up the shimmering shards in the storage and – unbeknownst to him – put the torch out.
By the time the dust settled, only the shape of the girl remained there, kneeling on the ground, holding onto the scattered slivers.
Read the original chunk here.
In the beginning there was only a big block of marble in the middle of an empty warehouse. People came and went, from little aged ones to elders, playful children and caring adults; mothers and fathers.
They began stroking the block gently, leveling its sharps ends. Slowly, its surface became rounder and smoother. Later on, a group of children entered, and at first they did not find interest in the shapeless substance. But they soon decided to try and make a friend of their own out of that big and hard ball. They were shaping and coloring it and from time to time they stopped for chasing the glittery shards that flew around. When the time came, they said goodbye to their shapeless friend and left it alone in the dark night.
Soon, new, unknown people came, each unique, different from the previous ones. They cleaned the paint off of the shape. Some of them recognized their long forgotten crayons. This time they did not only use it as a toy but some talked to it instead while others cleaned the warehouse and started scraping the shape. It soon had its own arms and legs. Those gentle hands from long ago put clothes on it. It was not shapeless anymore; the moonlight shone brightly on its nicely carved locks.
Someone left the door of the warehouse open making way to the frost to occupy the sculpture. A young man came and he stayed longer than anyone else before. He lit the candles and warmed up the storehouse. Gently altering the idle arms he placed the carving into a more convenient position. Now it resembled the figure of a gracious young lady, glittering in the candle light.
But just like for everyone else, the time for the young man to leave has come. Just like everyone else, he put the chisel down and turned toward the entrance, making sure not to leave the door open. As he left, the draft stirred up the shimmering shards in the storage and put the candles out.
By the time the dust settled, only the frozen shape of the girl remained there, kneeling on the ground, holding onto the scattered chunks.
I have been sitting on this post way more than it was necessary.
There were tons of things and stuff happening to me lately. I don’t even know where to start. Maybe I should start by mentioning I have moved to Budapest (the capital of Hungary) half a year ago. To be exact on 4 September …
… because I started university. Yes. I decided to try myself in Japanese, even though I already have a university degree in English. I felt studying on my own and taking a language examination in itself won’t be sufficient for me to step into the next level. And to be honest, I didn’t think of myself as someone creative enough to prevail with my Japanese knowledge(?) in a small town where there is almost no need for Japanese speaking people.
I didn’t know the city, nor anyone living here and nobody came along with me. I had had in mind, that it would be very difficult and both phisycally and mentally tiring, especially since I have to work besides studying, for my family cannot support me. But I had thought I had to take this step so I took it.
Let’s be honest. It IS scary. Even after months have passed by. I’m sure it would be scary for most people, but it is super hardcore for someone with a mental illness. Super hardcore. Period.
Anxiety is not easy in itself and I can confidently say that I have managed to lose my initial goal. What was that again? I am not even willing to go back and read the first paragraph. It is quite okay there, what has happened that has happened. Although, I am still more than ready to throw everything away and go back to the life I had before I moved here. This is one of the things that have kept me away from blogging; I was so overwhelmed by my depression that I have felt everything I had written were some serious crap.
Besides the circumstances, and believe me at this point those are the least important, something has changed. Maybe this blockhead has slowly started to learn the lessons needed.
I have just posted something very little. It is too little in fact, comparing to everything that has happened to me lately, and comparing to those sooo many things I’d want to say out loud. But that post was bigger than I first thought it would be. It made me feel extremely anxious when I was about to hit the publish button of something so stupid and uninteresting. It was the same feeling that I felt when I published my very first post ever. It was scary af, but I LOVE this feeling. This is what I need, I don’t know I just simply need it. It did not only race my heartbeat but raised my mood as well. That led me to a serious revelation; I have stepped out of my comfort zone, just to shut myself into a more uncomfortable one.
So, now I won’t reread this, won’t think about anything, just hit publish and I go to my job in that bittersweet reality.
So today I have finally written three hundred words, only in half an hour. Not for the blog of course, but that’s still something.
I have tons to say, too bad those million drafts won’t finish and publish themselves.
As for the first thing to write about in the new year, I have to tell you something important. Though, earlier I said I don’t believe in making resolutions, there was something I wanted to try. (By clicking the link you’ll se what I’m talking about, and by the way I’d like to thank the reader who somehow found this older post of mine and reminded me of one of my most important goals in my life 🙂 )
My last year was good and bad, but considering my mental health, which affected my life the most I have to say it was awful. Even despite the fact that I was/am medicated. And this is the point. A few weeks ago I realized something terrible and scary as hell. As a result (or side effect) of my medication I started losing the ability to feel. I couldn’t cry and couldn’t even laugh. Considering this, it is no surprise I was away from blogging, right?
After that realization, I decided I would stop taking medications. I had had my problems even before I started using tranquilizers but the problem was they remained and even got stronger after I got my treatment.
Now, I am taking one pill in every third day instead of taking them each day. In the beginning, it was awful, painful and frightening. Now, I am a bit clumsy, forgetful and goofy, but I have emotions and feelings as well. That is progress! Hopefully, soon I’ll be able to live and cope without any drug and I can gain back the control over my mind and life as well.
As for blogging, I won’t promise anything, I just wanted to tell you all of this.
Happy new year and have a nice day Everyone!
Cheers^^
What I see is today it is much harder being yourself than acting like you are someone completely different. 😕
Actually there’s nothing interesting about the place where I write. It usually happens in the refreshing solace of my bedroom sitting on the bed with the laptop in my laps.
I like silence pretty much though when it comes to writing it depends on the form of what I create. If it’s something fiction I like listening to music that ignites my imagination. Besides annihilating noises I prefer if there’s no one around me. Probably this is because of my anxiety but I realised that I’m more axious and it’s harder to gather my thoughts if people are present during the creative process.
And here comes the twist. Since I started working I can rarely enjoy the calmness of my beloved bedroom. Now I hardly have free-time and when I do sometimes I prefer emptying my mind. Other times I am forced to write my blogposts or fragments of stories at my workplace which is like this:
Repetitive music is buzzing constantly in the background, people come and go and I have to interact with them, which can break the creative flow pretty easily. So this is the least ideal place for someone like me to write.
Even now, I said ‘Hello’ and picked up the phone at least two hundred times while I wrote these approximately two hundred words within two hours if not more. But that’s already a progress!
As people in my country say: The palm tree grows under pressure. 😉
Though I’m pretty young, I already have many regrets. For example the thing that I wasn’t confident enough when in my childhood I wanted to learn to play the violin and (only) one teacher said no. I regret not being able to stand up for myself despite the fact that I knew very well what I wanted and what my spirit needed. After all, almost twenty years later my love for the beautiful sound of the violin is still as strong as it used to be, if not stronger. I think, now I would be someone different, richer in spirit if that didn’t happen to me. Sometimes I even think I wouldn’t suffer from panic disorder either. I also regret abandoning playing the piano on a sudden whim that ‘it’s not violin’. There was a time when I felt I would start my life all over again just because of these.
Although, I firmly believe that everything has its own reason.
I believe there is a point of all the struggles I had to went through and what I am going through even right now. There is a meaning behind my own inconfidence that made me losing my path. There is also a meaning behind the uncertainity and the constant urge to do something valuable that would not let me rest and sit patiently waiting for a miracle that would never happen on its own. For some reason, I had to switch my road to a rough one to finally find, by travelling longer, what I was created for. I believe I need(ed) all the pain to learn how to appreciate myself and more importantly, learn how to listen to the inner voice that is never wrong.
And last but not least it is important to learn to let go all of the fears and those exact inconfidences that were and still are present in my life. To let go all of the anxiety, the pressure I subconsciously put on myself and everything that binds me, prevents me from being myself hiding behind the well-made mask of panic disorder.
So, in the end do I regret all these things I listed above? Sometimes I still do, after all I’m just a human too.
Life in itself is a coursebook with lessons to learn. Only it becomes a bit thicker if it is coloured with a certain mental disorder. Here is a short but very consistent list on what my panic disorder taught me:
I mean, really. This is the hardest thing to admit, right? We, humans, all love to suffer, accuse others for our misfortunes and it all goes right until we bump into someone, who desires to help without any second thoughts. Then our whole view of the world goes upside down and if we are lucky enough we can finally learn to see the bright side of life. Watch out mates, these people do exist! Thankfully 🙂
I know, this is going a bit against the first point but this is another important lesson I’ve learnt…the hardest way. Just think about it. At times when we are inconfident we tend to ask advice even in matters that don’t really affect other people besides us. Furthermore, there is that very annoying situation when we know exactly what we should do, but since it seems harder or a bit nonsensical we may end up doing what others think is best even though it’s result will be boring or unsatisfying for us. Then we think; ‘oh man, I should’ve done what I wanted to’. Rings a bell? And when we end up in a mess not listening to our intuitions? Nope, nope. Though, I have to say, I don’t mean we should never look for advice or take care of the opinion of people around us it’s just we have to learn to make a difference between healthy selfishness and sacrifice.
Literally. Have you ever been in a situation, or I should say in such a bad period of your life when you constantly thought people around you do nothing but tease you, deceive you and even talk about you behind your back? That you were so cautious not to say anything inappropriate that you ended up like as if you weren’t even there? Because you were afraid they would take all of your words and actions in the exact opposite way you meant them? If not then you are a very lucky dude. I have and it was a horrible feeling.
It is like you always have to be en guard to be able to protect yourself because you take every little sigh, words and actions of others as a potential threat.
Thankfully by now I have managed to clear this exhausting misunderstanding that occupied my mind. Most of these thoughts were ignited by my own imagination and self-hatred. A frighteningly incontrollable menace of my own darkness.
Maybe some of these points sound familiar to you or even may help to realise and face your own problems if you have any. That would be great!
If not then thanks for your time 😉
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I'm Michelle. This is my blog. I write about women and fatness, expound upon semi-coherent thoughts I have in the middle of the night, and offer tough love to those in whom I am disappointed; they are legion. I was born in New Jersey and live in Italy, the Jersey of Europe.
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