I half hoped that I had misheard. Which was plausible considering that I hadn’t been paying attention. Or at least not to the teacher. I was more interested in pondering the invention of low rise jeans.
It had occurred to me quite recently the muffin top was so sneakishly avoided back in the day when high waisted pants were a thing.
“Ms. Bistritsky I would suggest you stop staring at the board and answer the question”
I think I was supposed to be factoring something. Two seemed like a sturdy answer. I was quite pleased with it. It was sort of vague enough to be a miscalculation but not too vague to seem random. I fretted silently over the red marks inevitably surrounding the fat rolls in my lower belly. I wondered if with a little added pressure these jeans could just slice me in half, and that way I would never have to learn calculus. It seemed like a good option considering that, by the look on Mr. Portman’s face, two was not the correct answer. What a pity… and what are the odds? Maybe I should have taken statistics.
#prose #rejectscorner #creative writing #fiction #spilled ink
mister-selfdestruct replied to your post: mister-selfdestruct replied to your post: I Do If…
When it’s your time, you’ll know. You’ll know you’ve met the most amazing person in the world and the thought of being away from tears you into tiny little pieces then dusts you off a cliff. You won’t know how you know, you’ll just know. Don’t sweat.
Oh I hope so. and I’ll try :)
If I ever got married, it would be so my friends and loved ones could celebrate my love, and the fact that we’d decided to be together. Perceptions and customs dictate the formality, but it’s basically just a celebration in my eyes. Just a thought.
That would in fact be lovely. I guess we keep up the traditions for others more than ourselves. I know that for many people it’s a matter of making their family proud and comfortable with the decision. I guess all of it seems so unattainable to me at this point that it’s hard to imagine. REALLY making the decision to spend my life with someone. But, after all, I’m only 17.
I went to my cousin’s wedding this weekend. He’s considerably older than me (by 15 years) so I guess it was time for him to settle down. Daniel is a lot more of a religious sort than me. I guess his personal rebellion was taking up intense Jewish studies after his parents were unable to do so in the former Soviet Union.
I don’t see anything wrong with studying religion or believing in… something out there. I guess I’m just not yet sure where I stand in that sense. I had a lovely Bat Mitzvah and I like a lot of the ideas I just can’t give in whole-heartedly at this point in my life and I don’t know if I ever will.
The ceremony was traditional with the proper prayers and customs (breaking glass and getting lifted on chairs being the highlights)
It really made me wonder what I wanted in my partner and in my life.
Would it make a difference to my future husband if wearing white was more out of custom and less out of honesty?
What do I tell my children when they ask what death is?
I don’t know. I guess it’s just bizarre to think about this ceremony as so binding and formal. Is this act what I dreamed of as validating a love for someone I have not yet found necessary?
But I must admit the dress was beautiful.
He had asked if it was okay if he kissed me, and I wondered if it was a trick question. Is that all he was hoping for? A kiss? But when our lips collided full force, teeth and tongues insatiably scrambling along chapped skin and mouth roofs, it was clear that a kiss would not be enough.
He methodically unwrapped me. Starting from my blouse and ending with a melodic unzip of my jeans. Lace pulled off, hooks unclasped. And after no time at all I was a gift laying before him and making him all the more greedy.
I tore off his shirt. I wasn’t as gentle or methodical, but I was behind. I fumbled with his belt with excitement reverberating into my fingertips.
I could feel the arches of my feet and my toes curling. I was grasping the sheets and pulling. But before I had even begun to close my eyes and sail away he spun me around and… reminded me to pay attention. Not very gently… and made sure to imprint his hand in my skin after a good spank. Arched back, open hips, death grip sheets.
I’d never enjoyed being this exhausted in my life.
#(NSFW) #prose #creative writing #sexetry
What a coincidence, I keep chocolate and my toys in the same drawer too. lol
I keep my chocolate and my vibrator in the same drawer. On a separate note, I’m feeling some erotic prose coming on. Better open up word.
#why is this me?
Piece by Piece
Piece by piece I fall. And sometimes your cupped hands aren’t there to catch the little remnants of my goose bump skin and my cherry heart. Where do I go when I reach the ground? I ask this silently as I flutter passed your half-extended fingertips. Wayward glances fall on the callouses I watched you make strumming your guitar late at night. When I reach the ground, what happens to the pieces you have kept of me? Emerald teardrops glimmered in your hands and I was thankful for you must have saved my eyes. Bury me in the lines of your palms so I can feel it when you hold hands with her and smile because I won’t be lonely. Keep me in the spaces of your teeth so that I may awaken every time you smile. Carry me always dear, for I am falling. I’d like to hope that not all of me will be gone, since you must have caught just a little bit of me along the way.
#prose #creative writing #spilled ink #rejectscorner
“In spite of language, in spite of intelligence and intuition and sympathy, one can never really communicate anything to anybody. The essential substance of every thought and feeling remains incommunicable, locked up in the impenetrable strong-room of the individual soul and body. Our life is a sentence of perpetual solitary confinement.”
– Aldous Huxley (via dwales)
I'm Hannah. And I like to write because it gives me an excuse to be insane. Enjoy.
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