I take words to heart and remember them forever. This can be both good and bad, depending on what was said.

Someone criticized my piano playing once, and I went from practicing hours a day to not touching a piano for almost a year. (I never touched the music ever again)

I overheard my older brother say I was beautiful about 10 years ago, and I still remember it so clearly, I can tell you where everyone was standing when it happened.

I was told that being nervous was a sign of immaturity, and to this day that comes back to haunt me whenever I have to speak or perform in public.

My dad told me once about five years ago that I cooked like my mom (AKA throwing random things into a pot and having it come out good) and I still think about it every single time I cook.

I remember things, and I remember them clearly. So be careful what you say to me if you don't want it to become a permanent memory for me!

I boldly stood on the edge of the cliff, knowing it was dangerous, not caring about the risk. And then it happened; I slipped. My feet swung in empty air, as my hands grasped unsuccessfully at the slippery edge, and I cried out in desperation, wishing that I hadn't disobeyed the only one who could save me. Then, out of the dark, a pair of warm hands grasped mine, pulling me back to solid ground. A pair of comforting arms wrapped tightly around me, and a voice said, "My child, even if you disobey me, I will never leave you."

No one I know really talks about memory gaps due to trauma, but most of my family has them. The two main ones for me are when I was six, one of my older brothers was dying of leukemia, and the other was in 2020, when my dad went insane.

It honestly is a terrifying feeling to have literally months of your life be blank. My family doesn't really talk much about what happened with my brother (he is alive and doing well by the way), but recently it has been up for discussion. I have discovered that almost a year of my memory during that time is missing: I mostly remember people crying (especially my baby sister) and visiting the hospital several times.

But the most terrifying time of my life was probably when my dad went crazy.

He hadn't been mentally stable for years, but we hadn't realized anything was off. (He mostly sat around like a rock and did nothing.) We discovered that he was crazy when he was on a trip with my oldest brother about halfway across the USA from us. My brother ended up calling 911, and when they made it back home we found out that my father was Bipolar.

It is a really terrifying feeling when you realize that you have a dad, but he doesn't do anything a dad should do. My dad is pretty normal now (he still gets kinda weird sometimes), and I simply am not used to it. If I am going to be honest, I and most of my siblings no longer have a good relationship with our dad. For too many years he didn't care about us, or what we did, and I simply don't have the level of respect for him that I should have.

I have a memory gap of several months, and only recently have I opened up to several people close to me and let some of the trauma go. I've kept it locked inside of me for so long, and I don't really know how to let go. I am afraid of letting people see my vulnerable side, and I'm afraid of building a relationship with my dad because I'm afraid that he will go insane again.

So I guess for me, the most terrifying experiences of my life are from when I went through trauma, and I'm afraid to go through that again. I'm slowly healing, but I've got a long ways to go.

The Moon died slowly, like me.

Hugged close, yet still wasting away.

Here again, but alone this time.

(Six Word contests seem to follow me wherever I go, lol)

So last spring I entered the "Six Word Wonder Contest" and forgot about and moved on.

This spring I got the email saying that I was one of the less than 1% who made it to the Shortlist! I didn't end up winning, but I get to have one of my six word stories published in their book!

Anyway, I thought I'd share the news here, since my family is tired of hearing about it 24/7.

Here are (some of) the stories I entered:

Wind whispers secrets if you listen.

Touching the sea, I remembered her.

I’m dead! Okay, weird first thought…

Fiery desire to touch a star.

The third one is the one that made it to the book, even though I didn't consider it one of my favorites. But for a contest I spent 15 minutes on and forgot about, I am very proud of myself!

Entries for this year's contest are open as well! You can enter up to 4 six word stories for a chance to win $100 and the title "Six Word Wonder", and be published in their book!

I would definitely recommend entering; worst comes to worst, you don't win, but at least you tried! Just google "Six Word Wonder Contest", and you should be able to find it!

(Or type in dougweller.net/contest)

(Oh, and of course I used a cheesy pen name, so the name next to all my stories is "Sundarae Jomay", of all things.)

As I sit at my laptop, the open windows let a cool breeze blow through, carrying the scent of spring with it. My coffee is sitting beside me, and its aroma fills my nostrils. I can smell the daffodils outside my window, I also can still smell the coconut I toasted this morning for on my dessert for tonight, and soon I will smell fresh bread baking in the oven. These are the smells of my home, and I wouldn't trade them for the world.

My initials are AJ, and I also developed a habit as a 8-year-old of speaking in third person, referring to myself as "The Girl" (something that annoyed my parents and siblings, haha). One day I needed a username for some random website, those facts popped into my head, and since "The Girl AJ" sounded weird, I went with "That Girl AJ". Remove the spaces for aesthetic reasons, and you get "ThatGirlAJ". I've used it for many, many things since then, and it's my go to username now.

Hello again!

It has been a long time since I last posted or read anything on The Prose!

Last time I posted was around Christmas, I believe, and life has been very busy since then.

I am now an officially an aunt; my nephew was born in February! He is a little bundle of adorableness, and I look forward to spending LOTS of time with him.

My tiny cousin that I have been doing childcare for weighed 2 lbs. when she was born, and now, at 6 months old, weighs 9 1/2 lbs., which we are all super excited about! (Her twin is still twice her size, though.)

I passed the 20,000 word mark on my novel I'm writing (FINALLY!) and I'm hoping to get to 35,000 by the end of this month. (Unless of course I get distracted like I usually do...)

I'm back home again (I had been living across the state to assist my aunt with her three babies for about 6 months), and it is SO NICE. I really missed seeing friends and family while I was gone!

I am hoping to post more often on The Prose now that life isn't quite so crazy anymore.

I think it was about a year ago that I said I wouldn't be posting for a bit, so now I need to get back on track!

I look forward to reading all of the posts I've missed, and catching up with you guys!

Have a wonderful day!

-ThatGirlAJ

I’ve never really opened an unusual gift. However, if I think about it, my family has some very odd traditions.

One of these was back when we had a dog; we would always buy him canned dog food as a Christmas treat. However, to just give it to the dog would have been boring. So we would wrap them in wrapping paper, write Dad on them, and put them under the tree. And every year, Dad pretended to not know what was in then, while us kids collapsed in giggles.

Another tradition we carry to this day, is the layered gift. Every year there is a gift under the tree that is quite large. But, when you peel off the wrapping paper, you find someone else’s name on it. You then pass it to the next person, who repeats it. Eventually the gift shrinks down to a ridiculously small object, and someone finally gets to keep it. This might be one of my favorite Christmas Day traditions. Though I admit it was quite a shock the first time it occurred.

My three-year-old cousin was staring up at the night sky. After a moment, he turned to me and said thoughtfully, “When the dark comes up…it’s dark.“

I asked my five-year-old brother when his birthday was once, and he thought for a moment and then exclaimed, “Octemberary!”

When he was told that wasn‘t a month, he replied in frustration, “Why does that matter? I KNOW I’m still going to be six!”