Daily Prompt: A Source of Anxiety: When Silence Tells You Everything You Need to Know

Write about a noise — or even a silence — that won’t go away. (We’ll let you interpret this in different ways…)


How does one interpret silence? Through a normal channel of communication, a block in feedback or transference can interrupt the natural flow of communicability. What is this noise? It’s literally nothingness, except for your own subjective thoughts on the situation. In those moments of silence, you can be slapped by reality and come to a realization that there’s nothing left to fill the void of communication. This can be the look in your lovers eyes, after a long, exhausting fight one night; that say “I’m giving up.” The way to get any “noise” out of a situation, is by listening to the underlying degree and tension of the silence.


Does this mean, you’re breaking up with me?





Never underestimate the power of eye-contact, this could be the most valuable skill anyone could have. Keeping eye-contact with someone shows courage above all else you’re saying. It communicates honesty, sincerity, sexual interest, and more. I think I’ve gotten to the point, where speaking has no meaning in an argument. I’ll just show inanimate nature but still look through to the core of a person, even when their frustration is at a breaking point and they’re becoming physically aggravated.

I don’t know if people have actually stumbled upon this theory before. I’m sure a lot of people have been in a situation.. where you have looked up at someone “interesting” to you, and it peaks your interest. Then they look back at you, could say the most banal of things.. it wouldn’t matter. If you’ve met eyes, and survey after survey will show after a few defining seconds your natural aggression, passion, wants, etc. take over. Every guy I’ve had good eye-contact with, were all great fantastic lovers. Every girl I’ve ever fought with, theres those few seconds of a stare-down then somebody throws a fist.

I’ve based so many, if not most of my sexual pursuits on this. You know those little 3 – 9 week relationships where its all heavy petting, making out past 11 then slowly giving it up more and more as time goes by and attraction grows.

Sometimes people will keep eye contact with me for too long, and then I’m uncomfortable. But I don’t know those people, but when you know somebody as well as this guy.. it’s almost jedi. But whats sick, is I’ve been crying, sad, just utterly broken because I get everything I want. I hate having things handed to me, I hate people devoting their time to me. I’m so much better off being shallow and jumping from relationship to relationship.

This domineering glare I have over him, he slinks back. Hes actually put up with, a whole lot of shit. This is what’s sick.. every girl just wants a man who will treat her right! And everything cotton candy shit. I’m all for being treated “Right” but I’d prefer “equal” These past guys I’ve been in long relationships with, have their balls in my trophy case. It’s really a psycho-social molding of abusive/loving treatment and the endurance, along with the tolerance of a certain individual. I won’t stop unless I’ve hit some exterior limit. I am testing this guy, day by day, wearing him down.. down.. and down.

Like take last night, it was 30 degrees outside. I took his cat, threw her outside, shut the door and said “She sleeps outside from now on.” And of course this incredulous look on his face, the shock and confusion just baffling him unpunctual. “But why, it’s freezing.” I just said, “Either she stays outside, and I stay in, or she comes inside and I go out.”

I’m making this poor, man choose between a 3 year old cat he loved and raised.. and a girl with an infectiously mean personality.

Okay any guy, who has a crazy bitch in his life, should throw that hoe to the curb for making him choose over his pet. But this guy? Holy shit, he didn’t want me to leave him SO MUCH that he CAVED. < That’s the test. The question obviously points to me, but men in these situations don’t want to lose a woman. But if he had any respect for himself and his personal domesticated animals, he would clearly see what a seriously cold-hearted, manipulative bitch I was.

And the serious boyfriends before this guy, Jesus fuck I was a serious little bitch. Arguing with everyones parents, questioning the parents involvement and careful consideration of burdens on their freedom and right to choose and just experience, growing all that. But I was literally, HATED. Except by those who closely knew me.

But that’s what the test is about, it’s a test for YOURSELF. Does anyone ever stop to think that I have feelings too? That I’m only stepping in and backing away, when it is absolutely vital that people need time for reflection. I love to help, I personally think I have too much things. I want other people to share, what knowledge and spiritual wakefulness I can offer. Also material things, I guess if people prize all this new lingerie and cosmetics and body things. I get bored with all of it.

He always tries to reassure me, “You don’t have to run away anymore.”

That’s not true. I’ll always be running.

I wont say that I told you so. Told you so.

What I never did is done.

I cant describe the way I am to you anymore. I cant put words to feelings I don’t have. I cant place the words to even explain why I don’t care. There’s just nothing but total apathy. When I look into those brown eyes, and I see a pool filling with tears.. and you’re just, surrendering your heart to a girl you’re convinced is your only one..

I just see emptiness in you. Total loneliness. You can’t manage to keep a day together, without me. You can’t go without thinking or worrying about me.

I have so many different drunk faces.
like.. crying/singing taylor swift “he is the best thing, thats ever been miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” while driving and holding the wheel earnestly. i mean, not driving. sitting at home, in my nascar recliner, obviously.

i think I’m still drunk from last night.
but this morning I’ve had a total heart-to-heart sympathy talk with an.. urban camper.. by the mini-market next to my apartments. where, i totally forgot to give him money that he needed.. and instead gave him a hug, and a case of beer from my trunk. you know, I’m not TOTALLY sure he “needed” that, because most people think of homeless people as victims of alcoholism, thus their whole lives crashing downetetc. but I figure, his life totally sucks in comparison to mine.. who am I to choose whether he drenches his nostalgia in alcohol, or throws cans of beer at random cars who honk at him to move out of the way when the light turns green. IDK!

and this, I cannot make this up. Losing balance and trying to walk in the direction the sidewalk is going to my apartment.. I see a guy, that looks almost dead and cold sitting at the bottom of a stairwell. this guy, I was at the welcoming party he had at the pool like a year or so ago, and then we never really talked. I drop all my shit, and in a flash I catch him from falling face-down into the concrete when he stood up. He was mumbling, and stumbling, and couldnt hold his weight.. and he began to cry, and talk about his friends his family, his hardships and his addictions. and throughout this entire time..
I kept my entire spine, aligned.. holding him up with little support from the stair railing.
I just assured him that, even though we hardly know eachother.. I knew his situation, and I’d do ANYTHING to help. you guys know, I’m a total bleeding heart.
substance abuse, relationships, etc. I related with stories of my own endurance, and conquering of my own inflicted struggles, and that.. it wasnt “them” it was my expected, conceptualized idea of “them.” Alright. Making this rest of this shit up to him, was like being a racounteur but funny. If I was a counselor, I know I’d be a damn good one cause I made up shit on the spot. We had this.. 45.. Forty.
Forty.. five.
minute talk.. where I mirrored his insecurity and problems, became his care-taker, and “truest friend.”

I eventually pulled the strength to arrange him seated, and in an eye-level position with me, so I could expontentially instigate absolute fear, or interest in what I had to say (either one of these maneuvers can break any substance- disillusionment
)= through constant eye contact, and physical contact. I was holding his upper torso up with my hands, as I kept him in my eyes and told him that.. I would hold him up, if he was “sore”.. and like giving him the utmost confidence that I could be a significiant figure in his life if he’d open up *more*.. and I would always WANT to know about what hes facing, wins or struggles.. and all else.. and then I finally had to pull out a cig.

look this guy was too heavy for me,
I couldnt hold his weight to get back to his door.

and then like.. I cant believe how horrible I feel right now.

I told him to “hold on” a sec while I went to my car for a lighter,
and I came back, and he was laying solidly cold on the sidewalk with blood
everywhere around his face and head.
I think I almost stopped breathing for a second, and I turned him over
and checked him over and over, he was barely respirating. so I got him on
his side and called EMS.

Alright, they came and got him.

Those Lucky Nights

Those Lucky Nights

“Yeah her name is Christy”

— “Christy – __________?”

fuck me right? FUCK. How the hell am I suppose to know that every producer, knows, everyone in between local hardstyles. It’s like I have to use my real name when I’m doing this, Aliases don’t work. I mean its so damn simple to just audition, or volunteer for something.. and just be judged on that alone. And you’re not even really judged for quality either. Everyone thinks you’re a damn easy lay. and unfortunately thats not true for everyone, some people have actually practiced ballet and do these sort of things because they ENJOY doing it.

And whoever else knows you, they have some guys name attached to yours. By association, they were just standard “Squeezes” but once  you’re single.. guys friends are like hungry dogs fighting to lick up the leftovers. It’s a little sick, that I can see it in some of their eyes when they look at me.. It’s like you know exactly what they’re thinking when they have this smile, this gleam about them.. that makes me want to vomit. I get so sick of myself sometimes. When its time to face what I’ve become I almost cant do it.

But it’s okay because when you finish a semester, and you have time off to be called into doing more.. you kind of forget who you were and take a trip back to your “roots” which I call downtown now. If I was referring back to where I grew up in that little town up north, there wouldn’t be anything to do. In fact, it’s so much different living from there and here. My friends from there will say “Don’t move back here! Don’t move back with your Dad!” They kept saying it because they knew the kind of person I was when I’d leave his house, or even sleep there, or anything. I was always just so.. sad on the inside, even though I managed the depression well with many many, random, random, people who seemed escapist to me. Living that way, made me happier. Relationships were short and to the point. The only BAD thing about living up there.. was that like everyone knew eachother! I mean only a population over 50,000 but such a small place. I stopped my vehicle at a major gas station, a guy I may or may not have been dating was holding my door open and looking down at me.. questioning, something idk. I eventually got out of the car and made out with him, then I started walking to the store, and a guy in a black truck was just staring at me smiling. I kinda walked up to him like, do I know you? then it hit me — he was …dfd uhhh Jeremys friend. And I was Jeremys girlfriend. and of course I did the dumbest thing of all “Please Please Please dont tell” —“yeah I wont.. so yanno, whatsup..”

Guy was named Joe. OF course he was a scumbag. Just like all the other guys. Then again I was a total hoe, just like all the other girls up there.

And Houston isnt any different. All the local dub/electro artists and edm families down here. God you have to completely change your hair color, or extensions, or your total look to become unrecognizable. I just hate when people introduce themselves as “friends” already and I have no fucking idea who these people are. I’d rather meet someone as a stranger, not with this predicated image already set into the citys social quo.

Sometimes I have to lie, just so other people can move on.

It’s because I know whats best, for you.