As we walk into this next chapter
Turn this tattered page
May the wind that blows it past
Billow your Lucious curls
May the door we walk through
Get bumped shut by your round hip
May your thick thighs
Sway to the rhythmic ring of that new era chime
May the jiggle in your bottom
Keep in time with the hop in your step
Shoulders back and proud chest high
With that deep breath of new horizons
Alas! You are no knight in shinning armor.
You are a harbinger of sins and calamities throttled by frustrated ambition.
Why does good riddance to bad rubbish ,
Include tearfilled nights?
Heart wrenching regret?
Self doubt and destruction?
Why does bad rubbish,
Come with find memories and affection?
Why the punishment of knowing
You are the garbage receptacle
Permanently stained by your bad rubbish?
Can behoove you to doubt yourself
Leave you feeling lacking and beholden
Magnify your loneliness
Emphasize your detachment
Give you a case of the fomo
Whether a tinge or a crippling bout
Depends and if you meet the Hallmark standard
Are we surrounded by cheer and good tidings
Or content in your cacoon of judgement free rest?
Wherever you fall this season
This too shall pass
The beauty of falling in love
With the man you never was
Flirting with your potential
Lured by my unbridled imagination
Dazzled by the tux overlooking the troll
A victim of all the glitters
I have to say…
The marketing of your brand of substandard mediocrity
Was world class
So you are angry!
Full of righteous Indignation and venom…
What does it get you?
What happened:
She showed up. Took down every physical manifestation of what was their time together. Packed it up. Drove away.
Surprised herself more than she did him.
Why it happened:
When you hold a candle for the potential of a human, only to meet the reality of the putrid carcass that is parambulating in full disguise. The man behind the curtain.
He came in with promises and declarations. In retrospect, he came with warnings. You talked about his 2 yr timeline, narcissistic nature and ability to love bomb to compliance.
The honeymoon period was short and isolating. “Keeping the outside noise away” he calls it. Stories of how he has long suffered, been abused, manipulated and taken advantage of. Your empathetic nature buys in to protecting the hurting vulnerable human with no one. You put aside your hurts and absorb his. Take on the tiptoe around you and react to your mood of a battered partner. Fold yourself and lay flat as the doormat you are trying to mimic.
This version is boring because the game is to break you. This is his time to identify his next target.
That detached feeling of watching it play out. Acknowledging the tomfoolery of the facade. Understanding your potential for vindictive revenge to right your perceived wrongs. Knowing that prolonged hurt is not necessary. Sometimes good riddance to bad rubbish is enough.
I bestow upon you carte blanche to write your story. Tell it to your next victim. May they have better boundaries and self awareness.
Situation: I was abandoned by my dignity.
My story: It is 2pm in the afternoon, I have a 40 minute break between meetings after a hectic morning that started at 5am. I turn on my music, do my stretches and hop in the shower. I walk out to my room, forgetting I have my blinds raised and I am naked and undignified gyrating to 90s pop. As I am jiggle and wobble with a rhythm that has no relation to the song at hand, I make eye contact with Jorge. On his standing mower, with a big toothy grin. This is not how I thought I would terminate our four year relationship. As I stand frozen in place for what feels like a millennia… Jorge makes it to my window… does the turn to go to the fence… and I back into the bathroom. If you see my dignity dragging her tattered kaboose down the street. Tell her to come home. I need her.
Conclusion: Taking lawn manicurist referrals.
Intro:
I’m a proud introvert with an unhealthy affection for indoor comforts like air-conditioning, running water, and the sweet safety of being shielded from the elements. Living in a place with a hurricane season, I thought I was prepared for anything… until Beryl came along. That storm was so angry, she threw in tornadoes for free! The audacity.
My Story:
I am a suburban momma, living in a world of cookie-cutter houses that stretch endlessly like the world’s most unoriginal jigsaw puzzle. The lawns are pristine, the plants are approved by a council of plant overlords, and everything looks like it’s been photo-shopped to perfection. The HOA rules over us like benevolent monarchs, and the wildlife is contained to designated zones (also known as “places we pay to not encounter”).
Then came the storm. A most disrespectful and rude guest, uninvited yet relentless. It flattened fences, toppled trees, and freed all the critters that had previously been “restricted” to certain areas. Welcome to my new life of third-world suburban living. For a week, I experienced the joy of no power, no trash pick-up, and the fiery embrace of a heatwave that could only have been summoned by a vengeful sun.
The critters were… crittering. Picture this: you’re calmly about to take out the trash when you see it—a slitherer, just minding its own business, completely unaware of the HOA rules that forbid it from wandering into your garage. We had no choice but to gather the neighborhood for a council meeting. Sadly, the local wildlife did not RSVP.
Enter Sally—the hero of our saga. Sally is a catch-and-release specialist who bravely captured the slitherer (who, by the way, had zero permission to be in my garage) and released it into the neighbor’s yard. It’s an arrangement. We do our part, they do theirs, but honestly, I’m starting to think this is some kind of scam between Sally and the slitherer.
Imagine this: You’re strolling down your own street, feeling relatively safe, when BAM! You’re swarmed by a gang of vampires—the bloodsucking mafia has arrived. These little guys don’t just want a nibble; they want protection money. They swarm in intimidating gangs, ensuring that you’ll stay indoors where it’s safe, unless you want to sign up for their delightful “treatment plan.”
In the midst of this wild jungle, people have started rebuilding fences and retreating to their backyards—creating little sanctuaries with online remedies to fend off the bloodsuckers. And when I say “online remedies,” I mean things like shave bar soap, candles, tiki torches, and vinegar mixtures that promise to work but probably won’t. Still, it’s better than just resigning ourselves to becoming mosquito meals.
But THEN, you enter your oasis, feeling victorious with your so-called “bug-free” haven… only to find an alligator. Yes, an alligator. Not just any alligator, though. This is a six-foot-long swamp puppy, just basking in the sun like it owns the place. Languishing like a diva on the edge of your DIY backyard oasis. I tried to shoo it away with a garden hose, but that just seemed to amuse it more. In fact, I think it might’ve even enjoyed it. Now I’m forced to call animal control, because apparently, my HOA didn’t cover alligators in their bylaws.
Between dodging turtles, slitherers, and the bloodsucking mafia, my once peaceful suburban paradise has transformed into an impromptu wildlife preserve. I’ve decided to start charging for entry. Consider it the most immersive safari experience in town.
Conclusion:
Lesson learned: always bring bug spray. Or, better yet, just bring a machete and a thick pair of boots. Because this jungle is out for blood.
He looked at her and reminded her she would never leave him
She looked at him and paused for a while
Took a deep breath to smell him for the last time
Looked right at him and made sure to steady her voice
I can guarantee, I will love you to the end of Time
I can guarantee no one will get the part of me that you took for granted
I can guarantee no one will get the loyalty that I naïvely gave to you
I can promise you no one will get the promises you got from me
Most importantly, I can promise you even on your deathbed
Let alone your burial
I will never again I associate myself to you
Short stories from a Broken soul 