Writing Prompt # 1 - What makes your heart flutter?

What makes me feel good, I think. What makes me feel excited, too. Chocolates, romantic scenes, seeing my friends - though it's questionable - and seeing my face and noting that I do not look haggard as I really am.

What makes my heart flutter is the thought that I'm going to graduate on time and finish this theatre production in success. What makes my heart flutter is seeing my crush or any important people. I am like a rose floating on a lily pad. Though I'm not exactly sure how come that's possible unless a frog would actually go and put a rose there. But even that seems impossible and very - uhm- how do we say it? Just absurd.

So randomly, I don't know. What makes me flutter is when I took a liking on an idea and I can't sleep until I write it off. What makes my heart flutter is every blink, every glance, every stolen moments where I can view your whole profile in my head.

But you are faceless and I don't you and I hope that you remain inside me. I don't want you real. Because I don't want you manipulating and destroying everything I created for myself. I don't want you meddling and ruining what I've planned for myself.

But your absence is making me re-think all the possibilities that fairy tale has promised me. I long to have a happy ending too - but at the same despise the very idea of it. You are a fragment of what is utopic to me. I therefore don't want you personifying the very idea of my ideal. You should vanish and let my mind extinguish you.

The mere thought of it makes my heart flutter too, among the other random things I've thought awhile ago.

You are not a person but an idea that I'm trying to get rid of. I want you gone. I want you away. It will make my heart flutter so fast, so wild and I will drown myself in the very idea of your non-existence and I feel exactly okay - not good or better but okay.

Do you understand what I'm saying anymore? Or my randomness in this prompt has gotten the better of you? Yeah, it's random. After all, it's just a writing prompt. I write with no specific subject or object in mind. I write on the concept. Defying what exactly people has built in our minds as a conventional process.

My mind is twisted no? But it makes my heart flutter too. Knowing things that I - like I want them.

I'm a stubborn kid. I know.

Minutes: 10 mins.

What is a Writing Prompt?

Writing Prompt to me is writing all your thoughts - raw and unedited -  in a piece of paper or somewhere in a given period of time.

I do this to exercise my brain that could possibly open me to interesting concepts that I might want to write about in the future and also in hope to regain my muse.

In a writing prompt, I can curse the world or bluff, I can stutter or just tell anything that comes to mind. May it be the weirdest and most absurd ideas ever. My mentors always tell me that raw thoughts express your real emotions. They are in their best form because you are delivering them raw. You don't care of grammatical or semantic functions. You just write for yourself and all.

So, to exercise my mind, I'll start posting writing prompts here.

Hey Charlie!

Note: I didn't know why I wrote this. It just came up.

Disclaimer: I already posted this on Tumblr before under pixelatedthoughts.

Title: Hey, Charlie!

Category: Fiction

Key Word/s: Death, Sexuality

"She's standing in the heart of darkness...saying I know you got a soul even though you're heartless.." -Walk Away, The Script

000-

This is how it’s going to be every day.

This is how we’re going to build our future. This is me wallowing myself in pity, secretly wishing that I’ve died along with you while the winds carry your memory away, somewhere where I couldn’t touch you. It was unbearable. It was hard to wait for my own time to end because every second of waiting kills me.

Thinking that I wouldn’t be able to touch your beautiful face, watch you grow those white lilies that I got you from a flower shop across the family apartment, see you work hard for your dream of becoming a singer, hear you sing my name in that flute-like voice of yours—it made the world a lot more insufferable.

Friends offered me a glance of sympathy and few words of pity. Some would look contrite while others would seem as if they were doing it just for the sake of it. I wish I could verbalize my disgust. How could they treat you like that? And how could you go without as much as a goodbye smile?

They think I was being hard on myself. They didn’t know anything.

“Charlie, I’m sorry that you’ve lost a sister…” a friend told me once in remorse.

I wish you’d seen the comical face I’d offered her in return. And she called herself your friend when in fact she knows nothing about you? Funny, isn’t it? How could people see us in a platonic relationship?

Have they been mum about our closeness? Didn’t they notice our exchange of heavy stares? Have they disregarded my obvious way of fancying you? Have they been oblivious to the world that I’ve created along with you?

I scream in silence as the frustration mounted. You broke my walls I so firmly built to protect me from the cruel world. And you just left me like that. Ah, an unfinished business.

Do you think I was okay with it? With you leaving me alone and expecting me to rebuild what you’ve been broken? How could you easily fall into the trap of death but take it so much while to fall for me? I could’ve caught and protected you first if only you chose to stay with me.

Don’t you care about how I feel? Don’t you know that leukemia is a cancer and not just a mere condition of lacking red blood cells? I could’ve accepted the truth if you only told me earlier. I wouldn’t feel so betrayed like this. I wouldn’t act so surprised. I wasn’t a stranger. I wasn’t a robot. I know you more than anyone else.

We dreamed together. We made plans about children, marriage and the rest of our future. Who give a damn about a baby having two moms? We loved each other. Don’t you remember?

Have you also forgotten about it?

I am Charlotte…the girl who would do everything for you.

And yet you choose not to tell me.

You choose death over me.

∞

Marry Me

Note: I wrote this on the 22nd day of March because of a very heart-wrenching performance (monologue) by a friend in a speech communication class. Her piece broke my heart and led me to the search of Train's Marry Me. Until now, I still don't have the copy of that song. :(

Disclaimer: I already posted this on AFF as a blogpost entitled  'I Dare You', but this is the original title of that short drabble.


Title: Marry Me
Category: Fiction
Key Word/s: Marriage

"Promise me you'll always be happy by my side...I promise to sing to you when all the music dies..." 

-Marry Me, Train

000-

In this flowing lacy white dress I’m wearing, where the ends embraced the ground with gentle compassion and the fabric clinging to me like a second skin – delicately fitting like a glove – I dare you to look at me.

I dare you to see past the tremble of my hands beneath the bouquet of white carnations, the stiff arch of my tensed shoulders, the soft gasps that formed after every small quiver of my lips, or every blink of my tear-stung eyes that will betray the strong emotion I’ve withheld from you.

I dare you to look at me in my barest and most vulnerable moment, to see past all the frames of my personality. I dare you to whisper the words that made me dizzy with affection and impaired my rational judgment of your species. I dare you to touch me without actually settling your hands on my skin and bring me again to the delightful world you have created where only you and I and future existed.

I dare you to answer me.

The gentlest blow of the wind tickled my nape and sent goose bumps to every available skin uncovered by fabric. Tears started prickling my eyes and my breathing labored. Hands tightened its grip on the lank stems of white carnations. Shoulders had lifted in violent gasping. A loud, broken sob erupted from my throat.

I dare you to answer me…even in your death.

 “Please…marry me.”

∞

Unloving the Loved

Note: The idea of writing about this topic came up after knowing that one of my friends are actually having an understanding with a person that I never imagined her to be with. They were an unlikely pair but I think they're kind of cute together. Haha. But this is not fluff or about them at all, if you're wondering. You know it's my weakness, so yeah. :) This is about friendship.

Disclaimer: This is fiction and this is my work. Pessimism included. That's pretty much it, yes?

Title: Unloving the Loved

Category: Fiction

Key Word/s:  Friendship

"Help me up...get me outta here. We'll run away with our hearts in our hands..we'll run away from the enemy. The war is dead and they'll never take us...alive..."

-Alive, Never The Strangers

000-

There's always what you call a friendship boundary.

I didn't know for other people but there is one for me. Friends are important, yes. But I couldn't help thinking that they are like fleeting memories that you need to always remember so you can keep them. The thing about me is that I'm forgetful. It was a scary thing. It reminds me that anytime, when one day I wouldn't be able to remember them, they would leave me. So I built a certain detachment, just in case.

If there are no reasons to forget, why should one just bury the memories away, right?

But circumstances are not predictable. And things aren't always what you thought they were. There will come a time when you'll feel that your space is being invaded and that you're losing the freedom you thought you have. There will come a time when you'll feel that you're being imprisoned in a character that was expected of you. 

The worst was sometimes, you have to feel it from your own friends.

I was the kind of person who values and respects greatly my own decision more than others' decision for myself. I value my independence so much that I expect my friends to empathize but never decide things for me. Or maybe I'm afraid to look like a spineless coward who can't decide for herself.Yeah, maybe I just wanted to be able to decide for myself and act like a grown-up that I'm supposed to be. 

Sigh.

No, I don't believe in friends forever. There will come a time that your differences will create a wall between both of you. There may be things left unsaid or actions that are overlooked - and it wasn't alright although people pretend that it's okay. Friends can reconcile but that doesn't mean that they have settled their differences. Friends make sacrifice because they love their friends to argue with them. But that doesn't really settle things, in my perspective.

That's why I didn't understand why Stacy would be so mad at me.

It's not like I've forgotten her or something. 

I was with Joshua. He needs me. 

And though I know that I've been spending a lot of time with him, my excuse was quite reasonable...uhm, right?

I mean, we're together. 

I am committed to him. The day when he asked me to be his girl and I said yes, I gave him the right to demand for my time. It's not like we're always together...well, okay maybe we always are. Does that make me a bad friend to Stace?

It was sad that we have to fight over Joshua. 

I don't like the feeling of being torn between my boyfriend and my friend.

I don't like giving either one of them up.

But I feel like Stacy was asking me to choose.

I don't know what to do.

I feel really hollow. 

I wanted to disappear.

I don't want to choose...

But if I didn't...

I am tempted to take Mom's sleeping pills. 

Hm. They look harmless. Maybe I should just take a few pills.

It might help me sleep. 

It might -swallow- ugh- help me for - chokes -get...

It..might...

∞

Take it Away

Note: Uhm, free writing anyone? :) But I guess it turns to a drabble in the end. If you're sensitive on the topic, please navigate away. It's okay. This is quite sensitive.

Disclaimer: What my character is thinking doesn't necessarily wholly represent my side on the sensitive topic. Please refer to the situation itself. This is somewhat a free writing so whatever comes to mind, goes there. If you still couldn't comprehend what I mean, just imagine that this is the character I am writing for so I'm writing in her P.O.V.

Title: Take it Away

Category: Fiction

Key Word/s: Teenage Pregnancy

"So you're down there...confused, you can't bear. When things aren't easy, hiding is not the answer." 

-Fall on Me, Moonstar88

 000-

I feel like a hypocrite.

I think I am. If not, what would I be doing in a room full of people eager to talk about a social project on helping teenagers in pregnancy?

What am I doing here again volunteering for such cause when I can have a peaceful summer with my beloved dog Poshy at home? Why do I have to hear such comments about the ideal way of handling teenage pregnancy cases? Why again do I have to be reminded of what to do and what I should be.

Everyone's wanting to participate, suggesting this and that, making excuses, pointing fingers on whom to blame - I wanted to escape them. Just like how I escaped a similar predicament few years ago.

Whatever they're saying doesn't even go well with what's happening in real life. You expect a pregnant teenager to listen to a fellow teenager preaching her about what-to-do in her life (which constitutes the tiny blip in her stomach and the future baby it will become)? Do you really expect a pregnant teenager to participate because she thinks it's for a good cause and it wasn't out of sheer pity? Can we really make them believe that we're doing it because we really care and not because it's an obligation to fulfill?

 Hypocrites, well we are all hypocrites if we're going to think it's possible.

I strained my neck a little to hear more what would these kids say about teenage pregnancy in general considering that aside from our facilitator, we're all just bunch of teenagers who knew nothing more than the common knowledge that everyone shares about the topic.

Teenage pregnancy. Wow. Big word.

And yet these people treat it as some kind of charity project. Damn it.

Damn.

This is about the life of the girl and the baby. This is not some kind of trial experiment. This is reality.

There should be no excessive arguments on whom to blame for anything. There should be no idealistic notions demanding to be given immediate attention. This is reality. What is needed is empathy not charity. They needed to be educated instead of preached.

Why are people heartless like this?

Why am I even here.

I closed my eyes for a moment clearing any unwanted expressions. I didn't want them to notice that I'm actually thinking that they are bunch of idiots arguing over the same overrated point of lunacy. I heard a heavy sigh from my right and found him.

I was here because of him. I am here because he told me that we should right our wrong. I am very stupid to believe him. I am foolish to think that it is possible to make him realize that our situation was anything near what he hoped we are: salvageable.

He was fueling my rage over this matter. My hands itched to throw the nearest, heaviest object to him. He's such a bloody hypocrite. I ground my teeth together and willed myself not to make a scene. He wasn't looking at me but I know that he knew how I am already fuming inside. My death glare could bore a hole on his temple.

I take a huge, calming breath and composed myself.

I couldn't help remembering Gemma.

Two years ago, I was seventeen. I was naive and gullible. When he told me that what I saw meant nothing serious, I believed him. I believed him because I didn't saw them do it. They were half-naked yes, my cousin Gemma who was the same age as me and then him on Gemma's bedroom.

I thought it was just a make-out session. I could careless. But I was stupid because I didn't ask. Until Gemma came to me crying, telling me that she's pregnant. She didn't know what to do.

I was seventeen and clueless. I didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do.

We all got tangled in a mess that I didn't know how to fix.

It made me frustrated. It became a burden I didn't want to carry. So I escaped.

 I left them.

Later on, I heard that he left her too.

My cousin was alone and defenseless. I have to come to help her. My mind was torn for selfish reasons and love for my cousin who had been like a sister to me. But before I could even decide to help her, I was crushed with the news that she killed herself.

I blamed him. I blamed myself.

I didn't want her to die.

But I was also hurting.

I want him for myself.

And I loved him too much to have the guts to look past their infidelity, two years ago.

∞

First.

April  9, 2013

This blog isn't private to begin with. There is no deselect feature unlike in Asianfanfics. There is no promise of sweet endings and perfect grammar. But I hope mercy will be spared. Haha. I am against plagiarism - because that's very heartless.

I created this to serve as an avenue for my passion in writing. Also, this is for the people who would desire to read my works outside fandoms - experimental, cliche or whatever fits the line. This will also serve the purpose of having to interact with them as well. 

Uhm, whatever actually floats your boat. See you around, yes?

xx,

Princess