This has been sat in my folder for a while, the more personal the tale the harder it is to post.
Language is much more than the words we say. Language is the meaning behind those words, both the literal definition and the meaning we put on it ourselves. ‘Yes’ indicates the positive but said in the right tone of voice it can mean the very opposite. ‘Literally’ used in certain ways can mean ‘figuratively’ – but I’m not here to argue about the benefits of a language that grows and changes with its speakers.
As an asexual person I can’t use the words ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’. I’m not saying that I’ve been prohibited from using those words; this is all my own problem. It’s just that they make me uncomfortable; they feel wrong on my tongue. But I still find people attractive, just because I don’t feel sexual attraction doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a nice face.
My brain is a saboteur. Working against itself to cause distress and unhappiness. My brain is like the worst spy in the world. Instead of James Bond-ing around and destroying its enemies (I guess unhappiness and anxiety are Dr No and Blofeld in this analogy*) it is sat in the corner of a small room second-guessing its every move and reporting back to M (that would be me) that all is hopeless and I might as well give up now.
Thanks brain! Dickhead.
I mostly write fiction but this is something else. A sort of ten minute essay/brain splurge of thoughts on my first kiss.
They tell you that your first kiss will stop all time, the world will blur at the edges and all of your senses will be focused on that one moment in time when your lips meet another’s.
The movies are bullshit.
Not a 10 Minute Tale - instead something I wrote back in 2015. I'm still working on those 9 steps, I promise.
Step one: Embrace your inner child. Eat jelly and ice cream sometimes. Jump on that bouncy castle. Hang around menacingly outside shops for a few hours when school finishes. Refuse to do any housework and when someone tells you that it really needs doing now because Oh My God there’s rats in the kitchen; adopt the rats, give them cutesy names like Ratty and Mr Whiskers. Just go ahead and move back into your old bedroom at your parents’ house and demand that they make you breakfast every morning. Regress entirely, regress until you’re behaving exactly like your 3 year old nephew. Do one better and regress right back into infancy. Cry, cry and mess yourself and cry some more. All your needs are met and you can make them known simply by screaming at the top of your lungs. This is the only way to achieve true happiness.
Tales written from a prompt in just 10 minutes.
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