A circle with sharp corners,

poetry with no real rhythm,

funeral with all paid mourners,

a feed with no real algorithm.

An artist with no creativity,

An ocean with a dry, dry bed,

Holidays with no festivity,

in danger but with no dread

Nothing inside but still here,

Everything inside nowhere near,

Friends with all my scorners-

Lost like a cyrptarithm-

Free bird in captivity-

Lost inside my head-

Stuck inside but still here-

my description is unclear.

Love me when I bloom,

coming out of my bud

taking up my room

don't mind the mud

Love me in the gloom.

Watch me as I fade

reds turn to pink

not to my aid

just let me sink

Watch me as I'm made.

Hold me when I wilt

Warmth steals the water

Feelings of guilt,

I am just a daughter

Hold me when I tilt.

Consume me as they fall

petal by petal down

all in all -

in the snow I drown

Consume me as I stall.

Run as I rot

making my peace

Faster like the plot

Take your valise

I am nothing you sought.

Leave me in ruin

leave me in pain

not who you drew in

its plain

Leave me - turn in.

Don't love me when I spring

back up from a rough start

Soon I'll again swing

sweet than tart

You only love me in part.

The bounce in her curls caught my eye. Not my usual type, but boy was she a pretty brunette. Her hair was half up, pulled away from those beautiful hazel eyes. "More green than brown" I said to myself, smirking. I have always preferred green-eyed girls, they sparkled like emeralds if fed the right kind of lies. I looked up from my drink, and found her eyes lingering. I locked in, and smiled for a second, while I took a drink. "Can I close out?" I asked the bartender, standing up.

"Sure thing man just give me one sec okay?" the young guy said. "Hey hey my favorite group of people! Here's those beers for ya, open or closed?"

I checked my phone, 9:08 pm. Still early in the night, but I had to get out of here. Pulling at my tie impatiently, I felt a gentle tap on the shoulder. I could see her in my peripheral. "Oh no" I thought.

"Excuse me, sir, but I saw you staring. I thought I'd come introduce myself before you left." Her cherry perfume was enchanting. The lights sparkled off of her glossed lips, tinted a shade of mauve, I couldn't keep my eyes on hers. "Hi. My name is Evelyn. Star struck?" she said, lifting one perfectly arched dark brow.

Before I could get a word out, the bartender came back. "Here's your receipt man. Just need a signature and you're free to go."

"Actually, leave it open. I've found a beautiful reason to stay a while" I said, glancing at her. Evelyn. She does look like one. Paired with the short purple dress that perfectly tied around her little neck, she could be absolutely perfect.

"So, why are you here?" She asked, motioning at the bartender for another drink. Her nails were short, definitely had a job then, with a clean French tip. The square nails were more interesting, used to be my mother's favorite.

"Business. You?"

"Pleasure. They say don't mix the two, but rules are for breaking right?" That laugh could encompass the whole room. I've never heard just a beautiful sound, I can't wait to hear her screams.

"Right! So what have you been drinking tonight?" I asked, purely out of politeness.

"Jack and coke. Clear liquor makes me too BOLD"

She's so cute and soft, I wouldn't mind ruining that for her later. "Oh do tell. How does it make you bold?" I smirked, staring at the startled look in her eyes.

"Guess we'll have to drink more to find out what secrets I'll divulge to you. You never told me your name." She said, taking a drink from the glass.

"Matthew, but you can call me Matt"

A little later that night, after a blur of delightful conversation and many more drinks, we were both stumbling out of the bar. "Is food the move for us now or do you want to take a stroll in the park?"

Giggling, she motioned forward. "I think I need food and bed." You could hear the drunk in her voice.

"Alright. Let's get some food and we can get a taxi. There's a restaurant right up the road, its a little diner you'll just love."

The cold air left a bit of chill in our bones, but nothing could contain the excitement. Finally, a fresh one. The neon signs and headlights all started to blur together. Suddenly my chest got tight. I started to slow down a bit. Huddled in my coat, she asked "Are you alright?"

"No I don't think I am. Let's pause for a minute?" I didn't have that much to drink at all. Did I eat beforehand? Yeah I did. Why is this headache coming on? Dark spots in my vision started appearing. "Evelyn, I think I might need a -"

"Shhh that's alright baby. It's just a drug, it'll wear off. Let's get you a taxi to my place" Evelyn gleamed. It had worked! New chapter here we go!

With exactly one tile between each foot with every step she takes, from one wall to another she goes. There's a quiet buzz from her headphones as she paces. One deep breath after another, she names what she can see. "Floor. Chair. Brown chair. Wooden chair. Wooden table. Fake plant." she whispers as her breathing becomes more steady. Third person is always easier to take than being in the present I think. Observing yourself is so much easier to make a decision on what to do and how to act than it is reacting to the inner war of yourself. All he said was he forgot, I am perfectly fine.

"Good morning! Just here for some breakfast!" a guest says, headed straight to the coffee.

She musters up a small smile. "Good morning! How are you?" she asks, a little higher pitched than normal. Her eyes are still very green from the crying, but she wiped the tears off her face before the door alarm even went off.

"I'm great! How are you?" the guest hadn't even looked up from their breakfast.

"I'm good." She said, more matter of factly than originally intended but what can you do? Walking towards the back room to sit back down, she opened a message from him.

There he is, my sweet boy. Blowing me a kiss. "I love you" he said. I'm no longer sure if I believe him, evidently I don't think I ever really believed him. But the love I have for him runs inside my veins, so I say "I love you too baby".

I'm not sure if I was ever very lovable. As much as I cover up my wounds like a wall in a house that just keeps cracking as the foundation settles. Like somebody installed my flooring, but it's locking flooring and they didn't lock a single piece just glued it down and hoped to god it wouldn't come up. Like, the inside of my head looks like the biggest landlord special, just repaint everything white and pure and good and hope you don't see the bugs I painted over.

No no cant let the Council win like that. Let the doom scrolling begin. "Oh he'd think this is funny. Oh that's relatable. Repost! Oh my God that's so horrible I'm sending it." Soon enough all my friends inboxes are filled with memes and depression, just like me I think. I am nothing but memes and depression. The cringe covers the fact I don't want to live anymore. Nope nope too nihilistic need to fix that. Does anything I do really matter? Maybe my problem is I have no faith, I refuse to believe what I can't see. Who really knows? Maybe I'm just a lost cause or just a temporary person to show people they can be loved but love is not for me. I don't deserve love.

"NO" she loudly whispers, trying to regain control. The Council is strong, powerful, so many voices. A chorus of what's been said to her through the years of her life. The mixture of all the horrible things weighs her down daily. "You'll never get a boyfriend if..."

"Your existence ruined my life."

"I just feel like our relationship is a lost cause because you'll never forgive me"

"You're just a bully."

"You're the reason nobody likes you."

"If you could just drop the woe is me act you'd be more likeable and maybe actually have friends."

They get louder as they chant, all incoherent, all unsteady.

"He'll leave. They always do" The Council sneers as they collide, the voices do, appearing in a twisted blackened mass. "You're not worth loving and you know that. Prepare, prepare to leave so he can't hurt you my baby" It says, taking shape as a fully blacked out person. The silhouette haunts me. "It's okay my dear you're better with me. Just leave, come stay with us. We'll fix you right up" It says, as the cold empty hand strokes my hair. "We're not scary, we want whats best for you. When's the last time you were selfish? What about your needs? You know he can't meet your needs, no one can. No one can but us." it continues, almost like a mother. "I know best I do. You need us more than you need anyone else. Just come with me my darling, we'll make it all better don't you worry" She nods as the tears flow down her face, going to the back of her mind.

Outwardly, the anger, the rage, it floods. She's typing, furiously, "Go date someone you actually like. I'm not the one, not the one you want. If I was, you wouldn't do these things."

She's still in there. Fighting. Screaming. "Don't hurt him please don't hurt him he doesn't deserve this it's all me I'm the problem please just don't hurt him!" She watches the screen, sees what's happening, absolutely powerless to stop it. They've tied her down, little her, just to watch as the chaos unfolds.

She blocks him, doesn't speak, doesn't anything. No not this time. He won't hurt me this time. No more hurt for me. Just the anger is all that's there. Pure fire in her eyes.

No response. From him. He left me on read. HE LEFT ME ON READ? How dare he ignore us? How dare he act like there's nothing to take accountability for? WHY CAN'T THEY JUST APOLOGIZE FOR HURTING ME?

Then the guilt. The burning guilt. She had broken free and shoved them all down in the basement. Pulled them down the stairs and locked the door. That stupid, flimsy, door. She's tired, scrambling her way up the stairs again. They really should put an elevator in this building. All that's left is the guilt. The pieces to pick up. "I'm sorry" she types "I'm sorry I don't know why this hurts me so much. Please don't leave I need you."

As any sane man does, he will eventually leave. And she'll eventually accept that it is too much for her, too much for anyone to stomach no matter how understanding they claim to be. All she can do is hope and try to change her demons, but they live inside her and are locked in to a mortgage at this point.

Sometimes I'm angry -

Why wasn't I enough?

What did I do?

What didn't I do?

Why are you leaving?

Sometimes I'm angry.

Sometimes I'm ashamed-

It must've been me

How I am, how I act

How I present myself,

Sometimes I'm ashamed.

Sometimes I'm sad-

You're really gone

I am no longer yours

You are no longer mine

Sometimes I'm sad.

Sometimes I'm understanding.

I'm slowly starting to accept

That I am simply

too damaged for consumption

I'd leave me too.

I have this idea for a book but I am unsure exactly where to start. Do I keep it pg-13 or do I dive into my want for some pretty dark romance? Do I use the book as an outlet for my current relationship questions? Writing pretty much is my therapy and I haven't picked it up in about 4 years now because I sit in front of an empty page with so much to say and no idea where to start. For the first time in my life I can honestly say I am struggling to stay sober and its never been an issue for me. Maybe it's because now with antidepressants I can't drink so I want to? who genuinely knows. I thought I might start writing again after my divorce, initiated by yours truly, but I just didn't. I thought maybe if I found more time outside of my kids but I just don't. And now I browse the challenge section looking for a little bit of spark to want to write. Congrats! This is my first post since I was a teenager. I've been rereading a lot of my old posts, and I realize that I was always a glaring red flag. I've had a hell of a year, officially being diagnosed with borderline personality disorder and major depression was like an oh that's what happened that actually really makes sense and the sinking feeling that I won't ever be as close to normal as I want to be. Not that bpd can't be treated, but I will always be so so sensitive and overemotional and overdramatic, I will always feel the emotion attempt to consume me it feels so pointless at times. Anyways, back to original idea here, the book. I've had this idea for years, and it definitely requires more research into cults and structuring one to write about. I have this idea of a young woman who joined this cult to leave a tumultuous life behind with her young son, but the cult separates parents from children so that they are more moldable. The book will bounce back and forth between the son's perspective, mom's perspective, and the father's perspective. I plan to have it wrap around and say the life she left wasn't even tumultuous at all, the girl is just struggling mentally and yeah that is a reflection of me. Not that I regret leaving my marriage no, but I do often wonder if, with a lot of situations I've left, was I just overreacting or was it in fact that bad? One thing you'll learn is I just don't give up easily on anything, especially people, and that makes me a magnet for people who have no real desire to change. I tend to like my friends and significant others to be just as damaged as I am in a sense, probably because I do not know how to love me but I like to give the love I wish I could have. It tears me up every single time I do so, but I live in a constant state of crisis anyways why not? Why not turn this negativity in my head into something positive for someone else? I don't regret giving out that love because obviously they needed it, but I do regret letting it consume me to such an extent. I don't know if I should make it a one off novel or sequels. I should probably plan it but I also don't write well with a plan. It's gotta be the moment or nothing at all. I think I'll just publish it online because who reads hard copies anymore? I think I'll start on that book shortly after I am done with this challenge. Should I start it in the middle of action or should I build up the setting first? I don't like a heavy build up on setting, but I think it's important to grasp the cult vibes before it's ever called a cult. I think it would be a great movie/tv show too, but I don't know how to write screen plays. I could animate it, that would be quite fun, but I'd have to pay for animation software and learn it all over again. Animation on the computer was something I learned in high school that I actually liked it wasn't half bad. Maybe I'm just the creative type who knows? I've been talking with a friend who makes music, beats and lyrics, and I am so impressed because -