Day 243

I look forward to the day in which we recall that politicians are neither rulers, nor are they monarchs: they are employees.

They are not celebrities. They are not athletes.

They are rarely even skilled workers or tradespeople.

They are workers looking for a job.

They work for us.

You and I are supposed to look at their resumes, hold interviews, then determine who we think would be best equipped for the job.

We are not supposed to let them tell us who to hire.

We would all like to write our own reviews.

But if some of these shysters showed up for a job as a dishwasher; I'd doubt their competency!!!

Politician parties shouldn't be comparable to sports teams!!!

You want the job? Tell Me why!

Day 242

From the moment he could move his arms and legs individually from one another, he was a threat to all around him.
Born with the preternatural ability and instincts to inflict pain, he was more monster than man.
So, in order to make himself less of a threat, this would be monster weakened himself.
Each day serves as an opportunity to lessen himself. Dull his blades, gather rust upon his mettle.
Simply put: he disarms himself.
Like an addict banishing their vice, the man was a model of abstinence.
In time, he might even become truly helpless.
Unless something should disturb this self imposed exile.
Let us hope that never happens ...

Day 241

How long before we live our dreams, so that sleeping in no longer holds any incentive?
How much sand will you remove from the hour glass; to skip ahead to the next day at the cost of this one?
How many regrets are you hoping to add to your collection?
How long will you make the world wait for you?
How long will you wait for yourself?
When you wake up from this, remember one word:
enough.

Day 240

And now, a list of should haves:

I should have learned another language. Sure I have no need for it right now, but it could have made me a more intriguing character.

I should have bought groceries today, I'm gonna be kicking myself come my many midnight snacks.

I should have lied more, just to see if I could get away with it.

I should have gotten into letter writing, it might have become a habit. And distance wouldn't have so easily beaten back intimacy.

I should have said sorry less through all my day to day interactions, then said it the few times I didn't. That way an apology would have meant more, and maybe she wouldn't hate me.

I should have said stop, when I said nothing, maybe that kid's life would have been better for it.

I should have taken out out the compost, the fruit flies will be gathering, I'm sure.

I should have gone to bed sooner and I should have made more time before bed for something productive.

I should have been a dancer, a singer, a comedian, a poet and a soldier.

I should have done a lot of things.

And there is nothing to say I won't yet do some of them.

A should isn't necessarily not a could ...

But for for all the shoulds I can't do, this I should have done:

Every time you told yourself, by telling me, that your eyes were shit brown; I should have told you they were the colour of dirt. That in your eyes I could see promise. 

That they only need a seed of a dream, and that my blue eyes could water them and we could both watch how our dreams grow. 

That every time you look in the mirror, you should try to see what I see, that then you might fall in love with the idea of each and every tomorrow.

I should have said this aloud in a moment of no significance, in light of day when neither of us were expecting it.

I should have told you what I see, instead of just looking at you.

And maybe if I'd said it enough, you might believe it.

Maybe if I'd said it, I'd have believed it too.

This should can never be a could, because It would do more harm now than any good.

And my saying it now, doesn't make me say it then.

But hopefully, the next time I'm inclined to not speak, I'll remember this.

I'll remember you.

Day 239

Even though the sand from the top of the hour glass would eventually reach bottom, our hero was too eager to wait.
And so this naive child, toying with the fabric of time or lack of any other occupation, began to remove handfuls of sand from the top of his hour glass. This was his way of speeding up time.
He did not consider the consequences.
He did not care that by removing sand from the top, he would thereby be shortening each future turn.
He did not think to a time when he might want a longer stay.
He just knew that he wanted this turn to be done.

Day 238

A thief in the night is hiding beneath the desk of a random cubicle, on the middle floor of a tall office building.
This thief must be very quiet. Duh, thieves as a rule should be quiet, but this one must be particularly quiet at this particular time.
He is not alone.
He did not anticipate company, let alone this type of company.
Fuck. Why couldn't it have just been security? Or police?
First things first: get the fuck out.
Then, if you survive, decide whether or not to tell the world that monsters exist.
... or move on to the next target. Lived this long without them being a problem ...

Day 237

All the while, this valiant diver sought the furthest depths of the mysterious pool.
They fought against buoyancy, against darkness, against their own fatigue.
Now, they would find the last thing they must conquer, in order to keep going; for the tether safely fastened on the shores above was still tied around this little swimmer. A means to come back, when the milky waters became too encroaching. For the swimmer found they could not drown in this bizarre pool, but they could still lose their way... and so we come to the final enemy: fear.
Fear clothed in comfort, is still an enemy to all our goals.
The swimmer knew this, despite ignoring it.
If our diver would go no further than the rope allowed, then they could not claim to be an explorer, as they are only as far reaching as a rope.
Anchored to familiarity.
Time to cut the chord.
Knife unsheathed, rope bent, and a mighty pull from the swimmers arm was all it took; then a suspended calm.
A suspension neither this way or that, up nor down, floating or falling. Just, being there.
This was the first real moment of discovery for our diver. The first time they felt truly as though they'd found something new.
And all it took, was to let go of everything.
A moment's euphoria.
Then, very suddenly, they found themselves being pulled away.
Just: away.

Day 236

New fear:
An alien race who gain a euphoric release from the sounds of agony.
Much same way I do when I hear music.
Only the music is wails of agony.
And I'm indifferent to the pain. Because it sounds pretty.
What if my screams of agony are pretty sounding to someone or something in need of a boost?
What if I discover a boost from the sounds of suffering from something else?
What if I already am, and don't know it ... if I do know it, what then would I e willing to do?
I miss the monsters under the bed ...

Day 235

On a gorgeous summer day, a man is forced to work from home.
He wishes to take a break, but each time he gets near a window, it begins to turn to night and the beautiful day begins to vanish.
Only when he remains apart from it, does the day remain beautiful.
How to sneak up on the day: that becomes this man's mission...!

Day 234

She tells you that her grave should have a bird bath.
That way she can have pets to play with, when you can't visit.
You'd give her an entire zoo if she'd simply stay.
A child should not have to be so strong in the face of death.

Day 233

She chose to dine at this particular cafe for several reasons.
The most pertinent reason was obviously to be seen in public, whilst a church was simultaneously burning down and the heavy door of a precious vault was being blown from it's hinges - this well populated cafe offered the ideal alibi.
More so than being seen publicly, however, this particular restaurant had a hold over her.
First the unique lettering upon the sidewalk chalk board, describing the days specials.
Then atmosphere of the interior, whose decor offered a feeling of nostalgia that stuck the woman as a diner her parents may have once sworn to have met at in there youth. But would mistaken it for something now closed down.
What kept our soon to be proven innocent mastermind at this place, long after her whereabouts could be confirmed in face of any charge: was the server.
In another lifetime this charming individual, with little instruction and costume, could pass as the woman's twin.

Day 232

It is nearing midnight at the public square of our budding metropolis, when a mysterious figure steps out from the crowd.
An unseen band strikes up a rhythmic offering, all with instrument alien to the human ear.
The mysterious figure catches all attention and ceases the movement of bystanders, by simply striking a pose.
Then another. And another.
Then a dance begins; which inspires everyone, whether they are conscious of it or not, to join.

Day 231

A Just admit that your pissed because I hurt you.
B You hurt me?
A Yes I hurt you! And I'd apologize, but you're skull is so thick it wouldn't reach your brain even if it was an nail and I used a hammer.
B Well, much as we'd all love to see that, you have nothing to apologize for.
A Oh for fucks-
B You didn't hurt me. I did.
A You hurt me?
B I hurt me! I hurt myself, and I used you to do it. Now, much as I'd hate to disrupt the self loathing torture porn that you've got playing in the background of your day to day, I'm afraid I must correct you. You didn't hurt me, because you couldn't hurt me. You couldn't hurt me if you wanted to, because I would never let you get near enough to do it. You think your the killer and I'm the victim? Be absolved my child: my wounds are self inflicted. I swung my own skull onto a cliff face, not your fault being the fucking cliff! Had I the capacity to trust you, I might have been hurt by you. I might have been destroyed by you. But I wasn't. Because I didn't. Now you can either take off your homemade crown of thorns, or you can drag yourself over to Golgotha and hang out with the other martyrs. Whatever your self absorbed, self loathing, neurosis needs to be fed. Just leave me the hell out of it!
A ... so ... what I'm hearing ... is you never actually loved me.
B ... I loved you as much as I could. I still do. But I didn't trust you then, and I sure as hell don't trust you now. Now. Let me be fucked up in peace. You go be fucked up somewhere else ...

Day 230

Not a moment ago, the man had been sitting casually in his study, finalizing his accounts.
Now he was racing through the flaming halls of his burning estate, desperate for water to put out his smoldering robe.
Normally, his indoor pool would suit his needs, but alas, it was currently home to a hundred clambering hands; all longing to grab the man and pull him into oblivion, should he get too near.
Curses are a funny thing ...

Day 229

Bad escape game idea:
It's a perfect copy of your own room.
You have a list of chores you want to do, but by no means have to complete today. And a cartoon series from your childhood just became available on Netflix.
You stay long past the time limit.
No one comes to get you.
You just stay there.
You cannot escape, because you do not wish to escape...!

Day 228

A Well this has been swell, but it's nearly that time when I wake up.
B Is it?
A Yes, and although this has all been a dream, it has been a pleasant one.
B For me as well. I hope you remember it.
A As do I.
B ... if this is a dream-
A it is.
B And you do remember all of this.
A I hope to.
B When you wake up: could you come and find me?
A ... I'd like that.