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Maya noticed it first on a Wednesday morning, the way the U-Bahn doors hesitated before opening at Schönleinstraße. Not a mechanical delay.
The notification arrived on a Tuesday morning: "Keiko Tanaka shared a memory." Maya stared at her phone. Her grandmother had been dead for three years.
Yuki's mother had been dead for three years when the email arrived. The subject line read: "Your MemoryVault Archive Is Ready."
The peace of home, My balanced own Where I can hide And long inside, Without the fear Of being hurt By those most dear, I can invert.
Like a child crying in the corner; My spirit in the corners of my mind, Howls from all the tears and disorder, Answers to this guilt I cannot find.
In what way are we normal. What constitutes to norm. What points us out as different When we opt not to conform. Is it simply that we're human, Each of us our own. What makes another person better.
I don't like writing much. It's ironic, as I place a strong emphasis on grammar and words of three or more syllables.
This poem was inspired a while back by a poem by #Blueblotts, who has since vanished from the Opussing world.
My GPA tells me. I'm not smart enough. To go to the college I choose. The scale tells me. I'm too heavy. To wear those shorts in public. My parents tell me. I'm a total disappointment.
Am I so invisible that you can't see. I am standing right here, can you see me. Are you one of those who don't give a damn.
If you are thin they call you anorexic. If you are not the thinnest they call you fat. If you take some make up they call you unnatural. If you take no make up they call you ugly.
Would I like my face. If it belonged to someone else. I didn't see it in the mirror when I wake, or spend time listing its faults. If that person was more confident, would I admire their features.
I guess I'm a young cursive girl, stuck in a print kind of world, my heads in a dizzy my soda's not fizzy my hair is flat. Others are curled.
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick... The clock would never stop, not until it saw the room in chaos.
#disabilityaware. O n the way home, I'm. P ersistently laughed at,. E veryone stares at me. N o one actually sees. Y ou are perfect my mama says. O pen your eyes and stay that way.
Do you believe in afterlife. Do you believe in God. Do you believe you're here for a reason, that he's the reason the sun always sets abroad. Do you believe in Karma. Do you believe in nothing.
#disabilityaware (A) ccepted Not yet... (M) aybe someday, (I) will 'fit in', (T) reated like an equal.
So many questions going through your head At night you lay alone in bed Are you hoping for feelings new. Or to do things you know you could do.
Expectations make me, To them I am a mould, A piece of dough to take and shape, To have and then to hold.
Nobody understands, Nobody gets me, I've changed an awful lot, But no one seems to see.
drugs. shaved heads. middle fingers. piercings. fuck yeah. I'm so cool. but not when no ones looking. I hate myself. the way I look. the way I am. when I'm not acting. I want to be cool.
Hello. You think you know me. You think its your job to make my life hell. Really. Oh you do .... Do you. You know my name, Not my brain.
This is aimed mainly at newcomers - it's not a criticism , merely a request. Could you please give some indication of your gender and age.
The mantle of the Criminal, a crown that doesn't fit. Working through probation, and shovelling with shit. Somewhat out of character, somewhere out of place.