Writing Exercise 12/04/2016: Used to Love You

I really enjoy writing short stories and I need opinions outside of family on them. Most of them start as prompts I get from a writing app but I really enjoy fleshing them out and trying to make something out of them. I want to try to get them published someday but for now they’re just sitting in a folder in my Google drive.  I can has helpful criticisms, please?


The first time we met, he ordered crab. I hate sea food, I think it tastes disgusting. I’m a vegan so I thought he would order a dish that didn’t require it’s meant to be boiled alive but apparently not everyone understands how crab is cooked. This little slight didn’t ruin the night though. Nor did it prevent us from going back to my place and starting our relationship off on a positive note.
Now we’re meeting again in the same restaurant. First time in three years since our divorce. It was a bit of a set up by our friends. Neither one of us has dated since we split and I guess they thought we still had chemistry or some bullshit. This is what we get for sharing friends after the divorce.

Arnold the Ex sits across the table from me and I just know he’s silently fuming. I’m fuming too but we’re determined to enjoy a free dinner reservation and the accompanying food.

I arrived early and picked the seat with the best view. I was refreshing my lipstick for what I thought would be a hot date when he appeared across from me. He didn’t recognize me at first, just narrowed his eyes until it clicked, “Susan? Holy Hell! What are you doing here?”

It would’ve been a funny moment if we were in a movie. I probably would’ve laughed and cheered for the couple to get back together. End of the movie, they would be happily married again.  The sequel would involve shenanigans and them having a baby. It would be funny.

We can’t have babies. Neither one of us actually. When I was young and stupid I ruined my body with drugs and he just can’t. Shooting blanks every time. It was one of the reasons we divorced. Like a baby could hold us together. We can’t even hold ourselves together much less raise a child and expect it to be the glue that binds us. I’m bitter about this.

The day we divorced Arnold sent me flowers. He used to send me flowers when he found out I was having a bad day. I couldn’t stop crying when I saw the little vase of flowers sitting on my desk, a neatly written apology tucked between the stems.
I’m glad we never had child. It would’ve ripped out what was left my heart having to go through custody battles.

The waiter arrives and he doesn’t order crab. He orders some noodle dish with an impossible name and some water. I follow suit. It’s a vegan dish so I can eat it too.
I don’t know if he’s being thoughtful or likes vegan cooking now.

The silence following the departure of the waiter is nearly intolerable. We shift uncomfortably and look everywhere but at each other.

“So Sue,” He starts, staring intensely at his silverware. “You look great.”

“Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say. He looks amazing.

“I got that promotion at work finally. The guy in front of me ended up moving.” He’s a graphic designer at a company that gets hired to do animated commercials. He always wanted to be lead designer. He has really great ideas. I used to watch him draw and even though I have no talent it would make my hand ache for a pencil so I could try to make beautiful things too.

“That’s really great. Congratulations. You really deserve it. ” I try to smile. He really did deserve it and I am really am happy for him but I just come off as rehearsed. The worst part is I did rehearse that line. Over and over, just waiting for him to burst through the door full of excitement.

“How’s work for you?” Our gazes briefly flutter over each other.

“It’s going well. No promotion but I did get a raise. I got to travel for awhile.” I write articles for a travel magazine. It’s mostly about the best bed and breakfasts you can find in America. I actually got to travel to a few this year.

“Awesome. It’s about time you get to visit some of them.”

The silence isn’t so uncomfortable now. Our food arrives and it’s delicious. There is no conversation as we eat but that’s a habit for us. We don’t like talking when our mouths are full of food. Other might find the silence awkward but for us, meal time used to be moment to enjoy each other’s company without all the noise, to just look at someone you love and know that no words are needed.

Our plates are removed. Desert is refused. We decide to leave.

The restaurant is along the marina. The smell of salt and water hangs heavy in the air and clings to us. I love the ocean. It’s why I never moved away. Arnold and I don’t split ways. I point to the beach and he nods. I take off my heels and he his shoes. Like a little boy he even rolls his pant legs up to his knees.

“You still got that seashell wall hanging?” He asks picking up a small clam shell.

“Like I would get rid of it.”
It’s coming. That damn question is coming. He was always the one to ask it. Not this time.

“Where did we go wrong?” I blurt out.

Arnold looks at me as if dazed. He drops the sea shell and shoves his hands in his pocket looking like a petulant child.
“Come on, Arnold!”

Dammit, just answer me. We are not on trial so answer me!
Hot tears threaten to fall down my face. The tide water laps at our feet, pulling sand out from under us.

“I don’t know. I got tired, I guess.”
He stares at the sky above my head.

“Tired of me?”

I can’t look him in the eyes.

“No! Tired of us. I think. I don’t know, Sue. ”

He turns to leave me behind.

“You always lock me out and I hate it.”

He doesn’t face me as he speaks.

“This isn’t the time to have this conversation.”

He puts his shoes back on. He’s leaving me again. Well I can leave too. I put my heels on. I want the final word this time.

“It’s never the time, is it?”

Our footprints are all that’s left.


That one time I almost walked into a pot shop with my 10 month old nephew.

Some backstory for the story: I live two hours away from the nearest big town. Like where I live is countryside farmland rural and we don’t have any place to service cars. But we have like two for tractors. Which is pretty big for a tiny town with a population of ~1,000. So. In order to get to town for my appointment on time I have to wake up super early then go over to my sister’s house to pick up her and my nephew for grocery shopping. When all the things are two hours away going to the things becomes a family affair.

Be me. Wake up early, help sister with teething, tired nephew, driving two hours with only a single cup of luke warm coffee to sustain me. Be me arriving in town a little early for the car appointment. Be hungry. Have hungry sister. See a sign for a place that looks like a sushi restaurant. I like sushi- well vegetable sushi- and sister likes sushi. I pull in expecting to be feasting on yummy vegetable sushi before getting my car serviced. And then I saw “Recreational” on the door.

My sister, on the prowl for food, nephew on her hip, nearly opened the door before she also saw the “Recreational”. And then the guidelines restricting minors from entering the building. That was almost an oops. I don’t think in the history of pot shops has any two people ever stood outside looking as disappointed and embarrassed as us.

Moral of story: Don’t name your pot shops in manners similar to sushi restaurants or you’ll confuse the sleep deprived and hungry.

1 year Suicidal Thought Free

This has sat in my drafts since April and I think I’m finally ready to post it.


The first time I can accurately remember wanting to die was when I was five. My parents were going through a violent divorce and we were moving stuff out of my father’s trailer. As my parents argued I remember sitting at the top of the steps leading to the front door and thinking that maybe if I jumped and hit my head  I would die. I jumped and face planted into the sand and starting crying.

The second time was in the second grade. I had literally been head butted by my step father and verbally abused because I couldn’t hear him calling me as I played in my room. I thought he hated me and I was worthless and I prayed so hard to die. After that incident the suicidal thoughts spiraled out of control into full blown depression and self harm.

Despite having never been to psychologist ( even though I really need too) I’m fairly confident in saying I have depression and some sort anxiety disorder as a result of childhood abuse. Please seek professional help if you feel you might have a mental disorder. Living like this is not fun.

I’ve fought with suicidal urges all my life and up until last year in April. After going through a massive break down on New Years I made the pledge to fix myself until I can finally afford professional help. Let me tell you, this is hard. It’s really hard self analyzing at a deep level to uncover issues, resolve them, and have no support system to lean on. Despite this, I have not had a single suicidal thought since last year. It has taken me twenty years to get to this point without any sort of help. Although I’m finally in a happy state of mind I know I’m not fully okay. A good example of this was getting anxious and panicking for no reason after lunch today. I talked about an exciting upcoming trip with my sister and felt like I messed up so bad my life was going to fall apart. Today I have painted part of my porch and bought plane tickets for said trip. That’s it. And the feeling of screwing up was near overwhelming to the point I had to go outside in the 90 degree heat and just to walk around.
No idea what brought it on but it faded pretty quickly as I feed the birds outside. Watching birds is one of the things I can do to help soothe over my anxiety. It’s really cute watching the quail couple lead their young around.

I guess the point I’m trying to make here is it only gets better if you work for it. Fighting off depression is no joke but it is doable if you’re honest with yourself. It really sucks not having a professional guide me through this but I’m doing it and I know other people can too.  Maybe over time I’ll go more into depth about my volatile childhood and all the ways I’ve learned to help myself but for now the best advice I can give is living well is the best revenge.




4th of July Bazaar


Yes I can make things. Things that you wear or your walls wear or even your plants wear just for fun. Speaking of fun. I had fun. Then my allergies attacked and it wasn’t so fun. I have two different brands of allergy relief pills but I can never remember which one makes me drowsy and I really didn’t want to fall asleep at my table seeing I was the only one watching it.

This whole lil event thingy took place in a tiny town that I live in. My particular section was hosted by the library. They asked for a $5 fee and I feel bad I didn’t give them $10. There were only three other vendors present.

My fun turned allergy nightmare day started off with me showing up two hours early because I’m like that and sitting awkwardly in my car waiting to set up my table. I didn’t write down what time I was supposed to show up and was too nervous to ask the ladies at the library when the vendors were supposed to set up.  Once the first vendor arrived and set up ( I spied on the library from my car to make sure it was okay) I awkwardly got out of my car, awkwardly asked what I where I was supposed to set up ( apparently where ever I could find room, which was everywhere because next to no one had arrived), and awkwardly struggled with my canopy. I felt a little awkward needless to say. Even at 25 I’m not fully socialized and everyone was older than me so I felt really childish.

I think I fretted about the placement of everything for like an hour before finally being happy with it. The last event I went to out here was in a building so I wasn’t able to hang dream catchers and they just don’t have the same charm laying down on a table. This time though I hung all of them up and it really brought in people. While no one bought one I did get a lot of positive feedback. I actually got nothing but positive feedback on all my stuff and people grabbed my business cards of their own volition. I’m spreading the word of PurpleCat! Yay me.

Here’s a free tip for people trying to jump-start their business in a tiny town:  If you make a sell at an event then you’re doing good. Small town people are very hard customers mainly because they tend to be on the poorer side or on very tight budgets. At each event change your prices to see where people are most comfortable with buying but don’t shortchange yourself. I only made five sells but that five sells over the two other vendors selling goods. The third vendor was selling some amazing quality produce so no matter what she’ll always do good at events.

Towards the end, the wind picked up and blew in everything that aggravates my allergies and I was pretty miserable for the last two hours. At one point I actually considered leaving early because my eyes were getting bloodshot. The bad thing about outdoor events is being allergic to nearly everything outdoors. My list is as follows:
– dust
– pollen
– several weeds and plants in the area
– firework smoke

My confusion about my pills is very inconvenient. I keep trying to test which one is the drowsy one at night but of course I fall asleep because it’s, you know, night and I’m tired.

Any who, hope everyone had a good fireworks day and enjoyed the festivities because I know I did 🙂