Tag Archives: Prose
It reaches far beyond intolerance, to something that I’m not even quite sure how to describe. I don’t know if it’s the state of complete and utter self absorption of which the majority of people exist, or that because of it, they aren’t able to see beyond themselves to do anything to help themselves. Does that make sense? Because in my mind it does.
Case in point – grown man whining and moaning via social media about unhappiness, how miserable he is, when will it be his turn for happiness and then days later posts a picture of a freshly dug grave with some offhanded remark about being better off there.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a heartless bitch; in fact, I’ll go out of my way to help someone, if I feel they genuinely need or want it, and I understand those who reach out to others in times of need and struggle. I’m not saying this man isn’t crying out for help, the comments alone, reassuring him what a wonderful person he is and so forth must have kept him going for days on end, and if that’s all he wanted was reassurance, then I get that.
What I don’t get, is people pissing and moaning about how fucking miserable they are and how their life sucks, while they sit on their ass giving the middle finger to the world to use for their profile picture and then sit back and expect something to happen, to change. Nothing is going to change unless you make it change, and that doesn’t mean overnight; that simply means making a conscious effort to do something productive on a daily basis that’s going to move you in the direction of your goal, your dream, and help you reach a different reality outside your miserable self.
I repeat – NOTHING IS GOING TO CHANGE UNTIL YOU MAKE IT CHANGE
It was quiet and dark, but for the faint glow of light casting through the open door from the other room. I turned my head and looked toward the windows, saw clearly out into the woods, as if the moon were full, instead of crescent; and I silently wondered as I gazed through familiar branches, what light illuminated through the midnight trees.
Banshee lay with her head nestled between my breasts, her lithe body cascading my ribs, legs and tail coming to curl at my belly, squeaked out a meow in her sleep. I looked down at her, just as she did a quick curl with her head coming to rest under my chin. I cast my gaze back toward the windows and saw that the curtains were all closed. I felt my insides give a little jolt. It was then she started to purr.
More tricks than treats it seems, as the veil thins and we approach All Hallows’ Eve ~
©jillterry | jillterry.com
I worked with her for seven years; a pearls and chiffon kinda gal, with matching cardigans all with grosgrain collars. Her hairstyle never varied, and never a hair out of place; whereas mine is a crazy curly mass that won’t be tamed, and could easily turn to dreads given a week without touching.
She comes from old southern money, which I hear is the best kind, as she never tired of boasting about it. Our sons are the same age and that’s about the only commonality we had; though hers was on various sports teams and drove a new Mercedes, and struggles with his grades, while mine is a musician, drives a seven year old truck and is in all advanced placement or honors courses.
She decided she didn’t want to work anymore, as her husband agreed to give her an allowance instead, and her time could be her own. On her last day she came into my office with a little something she picked up for me and told me as she handed it to me, “I hope you won’t be offended,” which immediately validated the dig in which it was meant, and taken.
It now sits on the corner of my mirror and reminds me daily, that being a free spirit and true to ones self is absolutely priceless, can’t be bought, and worth more than all the old southern money in the world. ~ jill
Where the singular sound of water on rock washes my man made fears away ~
She sat in the corner of that darkened room long after he’d gone; wine flowed and the candle flickered, shadows matching their rhythm danced wildly across the walls. If she breathed deeply his scent filled her senses, closed her eyes and felt his hungry touch; words poured forth, steady as tears that fell, she conjured all night and still he did not come.
That’s when she knew, love was done.
©2014 jillterry | jillterry.com
I stood for a moment in silence, watching him; still trying to grasp the fact that he was actually there. He patted the spot of earth beside him and said, “Why don’t you come sit.” Only then, when I took a step toward him, did he look in my direction. “What are you doing here,” I heard my self whisper. “What took you so long,” he responded with a smile.
I see you suffering and wish there was something I could do for you
I witness your pain and my own heart aches
I see you spiraling faster each day
Downward motion to nowhere land
I wonder who’ll be waiting when you reach the end
Unsure what led you to this path
You no longer walk but run these days
The shift came sudden and without any warning
Your sanity slipped and crazed madness set in
You pushed aside all that was real
Lost sight of your self completely
Chasing that ever illusive sensation
Known simply as euphoria
You haven’t a positive word to say
Allowing negativity to swallow you whole
I say these things because I know this place
Having visited and lingered a time or two
Your beauty and intelligence still shines in your eyes
Though clouded by your tears
With love and understanding I offer this prayer to the Universe
That someday soon you’ll find your way home