every now and then, one paints a picture

that seems to have opened a door and serves

as a stepping stone to other things

― Pablo Picasso

Was it something he did? Something he said?

No, not really, just... I don't know there was something about him that stopped me in place. His face, I couldn't force myself from looking away, as if seeing a man that found peace, but at the same time...

What?

I ask her with my heart slightly racing. I can't even explain the craziness that's going on in my body, or any logical reason for it. All I know is that I need the answer to it. Strange thing, one might say. The need to know details about someone you haven't even met. About their face expression, about their gestures. Anything. I look at her again with the question still vibrating from my body like some odd form of expanding energy. I can see that she struggles for words, her hands helplessly outstretched forward, palms up.

Mmm, it was as if he was collapsing from the inside.

What do you mean?

I ask slowly, feeling my brain not being able to process the sentence or not wanting to. My arms crossing tightly over the chest as soon as I see my hands begin to tremble. I watch as she sighs and shakes her head, almost as if she had the entire chaos of the cosmos inside of her and didn't want to let it out into the world. My eyes turn soft and encouraging, and she smiles a bit at me, nodding.

It was such a peculiar thing to watch. His eyes were closed, face lifted to the slightly dim light filtering through the clouds. And the light... god, it seemed to be swallowing him up, a soft embrace that he could sink into completely. Getting lost forever and never coming back up for air. I saw peace radiating from him, but also sadness that seemed to flicker from under his eyelashes, as if all the shadows of the world were hiding there.

Melanie.

I whisper out, trying to say something, but she puts a hand up, gently silencing me.

Peace was surrounding him, as everything in inside of him was collapsing.

I don't... understand.

My voice is muffled and low as I make a great attempt to sink into my soft hoody deeper, the wind around me humming the first tones of Autumn all too clearly.

He was rebuilding, Sophie. It's the best way, or any way that I can describe it. As if watching things underneath his skin, muscles, lungs crush and tumble like rubble, turning into dust like... he was finally giving in all the pain that wanted to suffocate him, giving into it willingly until everything inside just... collapsed.

She inhales deeper, enjoying the feel of words finally finding their way on her tongue, rolling off it in a graceful, nearly hypnotizing dance.

Like he was breaking all of his structure and the person that he once was into something new. Devastation, pain, dust. Crumbing away until there was light breaking through in between his shattered walls. And I saw it, like watching him inhale the light, the first sunlight in many decades.

I blink at her several times, not finding anything to say. She smiles at me and then stares at her hands for a while, looking a bit embarrassed and awkward for putting herself out there like that.

I told you it was a lot.

You did, and I knew it would be. Could pretty much feel it from you, like you were oozing

with it.

She makes a face and sits on the bench behind us. I join her and slip my hands inside the front pockets of my blouse. It feels nice and warm, but I still tremble a bit as I sit next to her.

Sometimes I forget how you are.

She looks up and gazes at me with her eyebrows furrowed.

Not in a bad way, more like sometimes I forget about the magnificence that sits inside of you. How you paint words instead of just saying them. That's a little miracle in itself.

She looks down at the ground with a shy but warm smile, and we just sit there in comfortable silence for some time. While all the while I wonder how to tell her, how to even start to explain that everything she said about him, every thing she described sounded familiar. That every feeling she read from his face and painted so masterfully seemed to struck a personal cord in me. As if I lived through all of that, as if I experienced it first hand. Or experienced it with him in some other lifetime, a perfect stranger described with someone else's eyes.

.

I hopped off my ship for my evening walk. Although the sky was dark and rumbly, my steps remained light and playful. It's nice to enjoy dangerous situations like these, since it brings a little more variation into my dull life.

As the rain calmed down and the sun began to shine through, my steps began to slow as well. I stared at my feet -- is it already time for a quick break? No, of course not. I gave myself a mental power pose and continued walking... but I when I slowed yet again, I noticed in the corner of my eye another reason for me to stop. Yup, it was a glistening statue.

It's not very often you find statues in this era. Sculptures in general have always intrigued me since they exist as a record of human civilization, but this is my first time seeing a sculpture as detailed as this one. His eyes calm, his nose big and pointy, and his ears a bit red, I found myself staring at him a little too long. Rather than a statue, he almost seemed like a frozen human.

Perhaps this man could be the subject of my daily drawing. I pulled out the sketchpad from my backpack and a pencil and began to sketch his features. Every time I come across a photograph or a human like figurine, I can't help but be struck in awe of how many humans looked more or less the same. But this man felt different somehow. I wondered if the sculptor had taken inspiration from someone he admired. Maybe this individual was a benevolent being that guided the people of the past. I wondered aloud, "You don't look lonely, but should I visit you again tomorrow?"

I kept the strokes of my drawing as clean as possible, since it would be easier to preserve that way. My drawing skills have improved the past few months, haven't they? Feeling satisfied, I packed up my belongings and took one more glance at this rocky man. Tomorrow would be another day, but the his serenity made my heart a tiny bit warm; I think his peacefulness shall be my inspiration. I made up my mind to come back the next day, but now, it's time to head back to the ship.

Sitting on the bench beside Tyler, I’m not really sure what I was supposed to say.

I poke his shoulder. “Hey.”

No response. I poke his shoulder again.

“Hey.” Poke. “Heyyyy.” Another jab to his shoulder.

I sigh heavily- “just open your eyes and look at me,” quieter, almost pleading- “please?”

I glance back at him, hoping that just maybe he had listened to my request. I was out of luck of course, if there was anything Tyler knew how to do, it was how to hold a grudge. I’d been on this side of his silent treatment before, all cold and stern from some pointless childhood argument, but those had always been fixed by a little time and an off-the-cuff apology. But this wasn’t a fight over the tv remote or the last slice of pie. I knew he was only sitting outside with me because mom had threatened to stop paying for our phone bills and possibly another shorter, whispered threat that I couldn’t hear.

I chipped at the paint on my nails. “You know this reaction was the whole reason I didn’t tell you.”

Tyler still hadn’t moved, not even a twitch of anger in his face, just stone cold contempt.

My fingers slide through the strands of my hair. “I just- I’m sorry, I know that I should have-” I stand up abruptly, pacing back and forth. “I should have told you. I’m sorry, I am. But I didn’t, and I can’t change that, and-” I turn to face him. “and I am sorry, but-”

My hands flutter around my face. “Just get angry with me about it! Tell me that you hate me and that you’re disappointed and that I’m a terrible sister who kept awful secrets- anything but whatever the hell this is.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Look at me. Please.”

My voice breaks.

No reaction.

I shove myself back down on the bench, downcast. I knew it had been a bad decision to keep secret. I was moving halfway across the country for a college program that I didn’t even know if I would like and Tyler was staying here. We’d planned to live at home, saving money on rent as we attended the local state school, both in the engineering program. I was going to study mechanical and Tyler was going to study electrical and then we would graduate together, working together at some automotive company or other- our paths in perfect parallel just as they had been from the beginning. I had changed that and I hadn’t told him. He was right to be angry.

A finger poked my shoulder. I take a deep breath and turn back to Tyler. I can see him bite his lip, mouth opening and closing as he tries to begin a response. I almost don’t hear the whisper that escapes.

“Why didn’t you-“ he pauses. “I would have understood your choice. Wanting something different. We’re not the same person, I know that.”

I can see the stress furrowed into his brow, desperate for the right response.

He continues. “I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.” He looks away from the eye contact we had been making. “Why you didn’t trust me.”

My heart drops. We’d been best friends now for 18 years- built in from our birth. I should have known that this was about more than just the distance, about the different choice I was making for my future.

I poke his shoulder again, forcing him to make eye contact with me once more. “I should have told you. I should have. And I am really sorry that I didn’t. But-“ and I take a deep breath. “I was so scared. I didn’t know if I was going to be accepted, I didn’t know if I was even going to go, and then everything happened so quickly, and I got that scholarship, and I had to make a decision, and I-”

Tyler nods, encouraging me to keep speaking. “I didn’t know what I was doing, but I had to do something. And I’m so so sorry that I didn’t talk to you about it. But I didn’t want you to change my mind or judge me or be disappointed and I’m sorry.”

I look down, knowing there was nothing else I could say, no other apology I could make.

Tyler pokes my shoulder this time and begins speaking softly. “I’m sorry too. That I made it so you didn’t think you could talk to me. That I shut you out when you finally tried.” He looks me in the eyes. “I’m proud of you. And you’re going to do great at your new school.”

Tears creep into the corner of my eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for understanding. And for listening to me now.” I rest against the back of the bench as I wind the conversation down to a close. “We’re both going to be great.”

We sat there in contemplative silence until the sun began to dim, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange. Comfortable together in the knowledge that despite this drastic shift in our plans for the future, despite the obstacles thrown into our way, even 400 miles apart- we were still twins, still there for each other, and for right now, that was enough.

I was born of heartache,

the timeless tug of Erato

pulling mind and soul

to pieces like a supernova

of burning orange and yellow

sunset light

like the colorful explosion

of Rothko giving birth

to a cousin, a painting

of vivid fiery life,

and I stretched arms of words

and let out a cry of imagery,

coursing ink like blood

between the spaces in the page

that hold my bones,

my poetic existence.

Seeking someone that is a great communicator. And what I mean by “great communicator” is that you must do these things:

- When you are stressed, you must say “Psyduck” and pretend you are going to explode.

- Anytime you speak to me, you must sing all responses. Preferably do this in an 80s power rock ballad style.

- Do not keep your thoughts to yourself. Instead of thinking thoughts in your head, tell me everything going through your mind in the style of a villain doing a monologue.

Please give me a few days to respond to your request, as the girls will no doubt be blowing up my profile....

Mother was born in the Oort cloud, an icy sphere at the edge of our solar system. A place comprised of debris bouncing around this cosmic pinball machine, our little piece of the galaxy. One day she decided to zig instead of zag, her mass built up just right with a heaviness of ice and forgotten bits left over from the Big Bang. She’d heard of a planet, named Jupiter, with the power to get her closer to the sun. Having always wanted to visit the all powerful Sun, that great star they revolved around in worship, she gathered up the last pieces of mass she could reach and pushed her way toward Jupiter.

Sungrazers they call them and she was on her way to becoming one. Many cheered her on as she passed them by. Her great beautiful tail growing the closer she came to the Sun, curving and sparkling with magnificent beauty. Her request to Jupiter had been simple, she only needed to be near him, this spectacular center of her universe whom she had admired for so long. She wanted desperately to feel the tingle of his radiation and was more than willing to pay the price of coming so close to the great life giver, her star. Jupiter obliged her by using his gravitational pull and his great mass to send her onto a path leading straight for the glowing ball of fury, their God. With all his might he threw her harder than any other comet that had come before. How brave she was, my Mother.

The Sun took in her great growing beauty as she came nearer and coveted her above all else for it was a lonely position, to be center of attention. The planets and comets in his orbit flow around him day after day but never dare to come so close as she. He watched her approach, tail glowing, with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. There was a reason few dared such an extrodinary feat for even he could not control his power.

The day finally came, she was ready, and as she lowered her mass in reverence to him he felt a great pull. Something deep within his core recognized her as the one he had always needed. With an interstellar sigh heard throughout time, in a powerful tidal force of cosmic love, I was born. Father bid farewell as Mother continued her path back to the Oort cloud and I, evidence of their love, made my way toward his most beloved planet Earth.

The day I entered the atmosphere of my new home was glorious. Father, so proud to gift me to this precious world of his, looked on as I burst through each layer of gasses to meet my final resting place. Scaly heads tilted in awe and enormous trees bowed before me. A trail of his fire and smoke signaled my royal lineage when I landed. An impressive tidal wave of dust finalized my coronation, a testament to my Mother’s greatness.

Father watched with pride as the world reset, regrew and from the ashes his Stardust children were born...

tonaliscence- enui involving a printer.

tchanack- a sucking sound made by a spoon in a bowl of semi-viscous porridge.

juavolarism- the insatiable need for eggs.

heggfint- the dillema of leaving the last drop of milk in the carton for the next guy, or finishing it off.

uousuous - the joy of correctly spelling a difficult adjective.

hingery- the dread of inevitable wounds caused by home repairs.

patchonk- the feeling of sorrow and grief, knowing that there will never be any new Dr. Seuss books ever again.

guttermuck- the oily, messy, irresistable sauce-dripping bottom of a home made burger/slopy joe, that was tightly packed in wax paper, for grease retention purposes..

pzitflitz- the obsessive need to make annoying sounds.

zipperflam- a yet to be invented strain of seedless mango that has a zipper for easy consumption.

The mood in the boardroom was grim. They’d been in there for hours and were still no closer to reaching a solution all could find amicable.

‘I don’t think you fully understand how precarious your standing here is,’ Mikey said, sighing with frustration.

‘I don’t think you understand,’ countered Luke, ‘how much this corporation is losing to the competition. We’ve got rivals in China and Japan. Rome, Greece, Norway. We can’t even get a foothold in Australia or America.’

‘Not yet, but in time.’ The room quietened when the CEO spoke. His voice crackled like fire. ‘As for those European upstarts, their influence is waning. Soon they will be nought but whispered memories.’

Luke put his head in his hands.

‘In time you say,’ he muttered. ‘But what about the thousands out there now? Do they not deserve to be saved from the opposition?’

‘We will expand,’ the CEO answered, ‘but this cannot happen overnight. Change takes time. You must be patient.’

‘Patience is not my concern. Am I not your trusted employee, second only to Mikey? I have believed in you from the start and I would wait an eternity were it only I being affected. But there are innocent souls out there who need our aid.’

‘And we will get to them,’ Mikey said. ‘As you know, there is a plan to kickstart the marketing campaign…’

‘With all due respect, sir,’ Luke said to the CEO, ‘I disagree that your son is the best person to head that project. He will be ridiculed and mar-’

‘It is already decided,’ the CEO interrupted. ‘We cannot force the people to use our service. They must choose willingly.’

‘In the old days, you were not so cautious.’

‘Careful, Luke,’ Mikey warned.

‘It’s alright Mikey,’ the CEO said. ‘Speak, Luke. Tell us what’s on your mind.’

Luke swallowed, trying to summon the courage.

‘I motion…’ he began.

‘Yes?’ The CEO’s voice resonated through the large room.

‘I put forward a vote of no confidence.’

Mikey gasped. ‘Luke, no…’

The CEO leaned forward on his chair and looked directly into Luke crystal-blue eyes.

‘No confidence in me?’ he asked.

Luke nodded silently.

‘And who do you expect would second such a foolish motion? You know Mikey here would not entertain such a vile plot.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Luke licked his lips. His throat was dry. ‘I have discussed it with others and we are of the same mind.’

‘Others?’ The CEO smiled, though there was no mirth in his countenance. ‘Have these others named you as my successor, perhaps?’

‘No. We believe the company should be led by three of equal ranking, not a single autocrat.’

‘But you were elected spokesperson of this… triumvirate?’

Luke raised his head in defiance. ‘I am proud to be so chosen.’

The CEO sat back, his expression unreadable.

Silence filled the room for what seemed an age.

Finally, the CEO spoke again, his voice as soft as thunder.

‘Then rule you shall. Lucifer Lightbringer, I cast you and your brethren to the pits of Hell.’

A major flaw of the human condition is the golden rule. It gives people a mindset that we are not only all the same, but come from equal backgrounds and opportunities. It isn’t enough to treat others how you would like to be treated. Mainly because some people do not settle for the same socio-norms that you yourself might settle for, but additionally because most of us think we are better than we actually are. We would like to believe that we always take the moral high ground, that we would never be in the other person’s shoes, and that we would know how to be more accepting if we were.

On the subject of other people’s shoes, I am not entirely convinced that walking in someone else’s may prompt as much empathy as this world needs. I propose that in lieu of taking a walk in someone else’s shoes to try and relate to their emotional journey, there is a better more accurate way to incite an empathetic reaction. Think about the person you care for most in the world (if you have children, they work perfectly for this exercise), and place them in the other person’s shoes. Now tie your hands behind your back and watch from afar as they stumble.

How do you want to help them?

How could you have done better?