i don't blame you.

i don't respect your decisions, or your actions, but i understand why you picked them. they were not uncalled for. they were not unreasonable, or unwarranted, or unprompted.

i understand there was alc, and he has been leading you on, and feelings just come to the top, and like. he's my (ex) boyfriend. i wanted to get drunk and make out with him. i wanted the same thing you wanted. i know how you feel. we both liked him from october to now. we're both mad at him.

the only reason, that i have faith in, why he genuinely dated me and not you, is because i acted first. i showed interest a month earlier. i'm not saying he didn't like me, or love me, but it was awfully convenient for him to reciprocate my feelings. he likes being liked. he likes being liked by me, by you, by people. he likes the attention. the validity. the external assurance he's accepted.

but if the timelines were shifted, and you made a move on him earlier, or i waited until christmas season, he'd probably have been yours. he's passive. if you asked him out, he may have said yes. i'm not sure how much he would have liked liked you, as he goes for the attention, not necessarily the people, but i'm sure he would have developed attachment to you.

his love language is quality time and physical touch. i spent a notable part of our relationship trying to understand how to make the ride smoother. how to make him feel loved. how to understand his ed, his adhd, his roadblocks. not bad things, not flaws, just a little extra baggage i was willing to work on him with.

anyways. quality time and physical touch. i saw him almost everyday, and did something with him outside of school every three days, if not every other. walks in parks, making out to anime in the background, holding hands, just doing nothing like lying on his couch and seeing if he could taser me first, or i could blow hot air into his stomach. nothing really, but in that moment, it feels like the world is in that one room, and we are at the centre of it. it's worth mentioning i didn't know his love languages were quality time and physical touch. those are just also mine, and we display affection in ways we'd like it, so.

i liked all the same things he did. rom-com anime, a stupid video game, all types of music, cooking pancakes, talking his dog for a walk, appreciation for the arts. our interests, although to different degrees, had much overlap. he'd listen to me read my writing, and i'd watch him play guitar for hours. live guitar. you can never really get enough of it. sometimes, in the middle of the seventh bridge, you'll get the "this feels repetitive" feeling, but then you'll be listening to a soft song with easy chords in the back, and you'll miss his guitar so much your chest aches. you want it to play in your heart, echoing on your ribs and against your diaphragm.

what i think i'm trying to say is that. i gave him the perfect stage to fall in love with me. no, i didn't do everything right. i mean, if i did, it wouldn't be ending like this, would it? i didn't do everything right, but i didn't do anything extraordinarily wrong.

it was very. easy, i wanna say, for him to date. or well, easy is the wrong word, but it was convenient. a nice little ride he could go for without doing much, because we complemented each other pretty well, regarding our ways of showing affection and interests. there was so much to talk about.

and i think, really, he did love me. christmas eve. he loved me. that much i know.

i wrote him a letter, is was horribly messy, and he laughed so hard he cried. it's my favourite memory of him.

"sometimes," he said, "you open your mouth and talk and it's just. magic. you're magic. my mind goes blank and all i can focus on is you. sometimes not even your words, but just. you."

that was quite high praise, coming from a boy who talked like shakesphere. i don't think i have ever been happier.

but then it become, well, work. the honeymoon stage ended for him (it has never ended for me, in any of my relationships) and i actually wanted to be treated like a human being. i wanted to be acknowledged and talked to and taken on dates once a month. he avoided it. he liked getting the attention without having to necessarily reciprocate.

that was why he buckled for you, i think. he knew it was wrong, he was still in a relationship, but you were offering something with less strings attached than i was. you were offering something that needed no maintenance, he just lead you on, and you loved him. he didn't need to deal with your bad days, or when you disagreed with him, or when i wanted flowers for v day instead of nothing.

he said it himself. "i can't say no," a beat, "because i like the attention." i am not sure if he told you about the attention part.

this is. perhaps cruel to say, but he told me he didn't like you.

"do you like [censored name?]"

"no," he said, mad and worked up. "no, i don't like her." he's told me he likes you as a little sister. as a friend, he values and treasures you. he said that last november though, so i could now tell you for sure if that has changed.

"i just like the attention," he said. "i'm an attention whore."

and i gave him so much attention. i saw him for hours on end. i texted him and sent him insta posts and tiktoks and got snap to be connected with him. he asked me for space multiple times, so many times, and i gave it to him every time. he didn't like walls of texts. he didn't like it if seeing each other didn't have a designated "end" time. he didn't want to be kissed. he pushed me off his lap.

he wants. hmmm. it's not necessarily attention. he wants attention without the obligation to reciprocate anything.

because he thinks it's going to leave. he thinks he's unloveable, so he shoots himself in the foot, and then hates himself, even more, when it doesn't work out.

coward.

he likes the attention, so i think he lead you on. he couldn't say no, because he liked the attention. he didn't like you, and i don't even know if he liked me at the beginning, but he sure as hell likes being liked.

and so, he most definitely lead you on, but it was also convenient of him to belive he wasn't. that he was just treating you like he would with any friend, but you know, he did know you liked him. he was at least aware. but it was convenient for him to believe you didn't like him anymore, and that he could go back to talking in his, "oh??" "go on" "you don't say" flirty way of his.

so yeah.

i don't blame you. i don't respect your decision, because you knew he had a girlfriend when you tried to hook up with him and when you confessed for the second time, but i understand why you may have thought your feelings would have been reciprocated or felt the need to do something. alc does that, too.

(i would like to mention he's been piss drunk around me and has never acted like. had me sit on his lap on a couch and make our friends think we were hooking up.)

but whatever. attention-whore.

so yes. i don't want you to put this all on yourself. he lead you on. he chose his path of desire and it kinda fucked over everyone. don't blame yourself for our break-up. he was being a shitty boyfriend even before you came into the equation. we broke up without me knowing the full extent of the saturday party. i only learned about that after. about the "i love you" "i love you too" and the "i can't say no." after.

"i can't say no." because i like the attention.

how fucking selfish do you have to be to think that's okay?

as euphoria says; "you. dumb. fucking. bitch. i'm gonna fuck you up!" not you, my love, him. him.

you're, respectfully, a baby. a year younger, almost two. he should be mentoring you. being friends with you. not fucking with your feelings and making you feel like shit. and i know, because he did the same thing to me.

god.

anyways. i don't respect your decision or actions, but as another girl in this fucked up equation, i understand you, i don't blame you, and i hope you never feel for him again. not in the "i want him" way, but in the "you don't deserve that. you deserve better" way. you deserve someone who likes you for you, not just the goddamn attention.

please feel free to ask me questions, or for clarification, or to pull up recipes and timelines and girl. both of us deserve the truth. i want you to get it, because i want it so bad.

i don't blame you. do not, for a single second, ever think i'm blaming you. you're not innocent, but i would classify you more as an accomplice. but, well, it all goes back to him and his fucked up, spineless, moral code.

lots of love, and understanding, and hope your therapist can help you with this,

riley west

Dearest Writers:

Over the past 12 months, members of our community have expressed their desire to publish a book but lack of traction with agents or publishers. Our mission is to see members of our community succeed and fulfill their dreams of becoming published authors.

Enter, The Prose Press:

https://theprose.com/p/press

In collaboration with one of the fastest-growing educational companies, we started The Prose Press to give up-and-coming authors the platform to successfully write and publish their work.

Over the next few months, we will be inviting aspiring authors to submit their work and start their publishing journey with The Prose Press and share key pieces of their journey with you – their learnings, conversations, milestones, and excerpts.

If you are interested in turning your working manuscript into a real book, reach out to us.

Thank you to our supporters and community members for making this possible.

https://theprose.com/p/press

Cheers,

Prose.

The antelope leaps

O'er the tall blades of grass

A young warrior crouches

Onto the dark red earth

Ready to pounce on his prey

Watching its every movement

Putting his gaze on the fresh meat

Smiling widely and starts chanting

Ever so grateful for the hunt

& for his ancestors plentiful blessings

A small twig snaps beneath his foot

Soon the chase begins

He jumps up ready for it

Taking a deep breath

His food tries to head toward the river

But the current is too strong

The young lad reaches for his bow

In finesse he shoots the golden arrow

With a gentle thud the antelope falls

Onto the dark red earth

The young warrior ululates

He kneels down as tears stream down his face

Placing his hand over the animal's eyes

He says a quick prayer for the good hunt

Then using the back of his hand

Dries his tears

#PROU (c) 24th February, 2022. Thorsday

i long to say the words

crammed below my tongue

a jigsaw scramble, sunny-side up

have you found my missing pieces?

perhaps it's better

for them to stay missing

because then i can't put you in a box

and you can stay my halcyon dreamscape

i wonder how long

till it's scrawled over

in jet black paint

and bitter yesterdays

but today my smiles aren't timid

and elation is etched on the four walls of my brain, of my heart

what is love,

but a distraction masking reality?

and yet you are my reality, if but a facet of it

and i would like to only see this side of it always, forever

I hadn’t been back for some time, so I was looking forward to finding a new read. Really I wasn’t expecting I’d be there today. I had made other plans, but the soggy rainstorm wasn’t cooperating. No place to be outside on a day like this. The remaining leaves splattered the sidewalk, winter would soon be visible as I hurried down the street juggling a cup of hot chocolate.

Underneath my umbrella heat enters the air. A sensational touch to see this was there. The idea of seeing it turning anew. A distortion in an otherwise rainy day view. I’d like to sit on top of that mini cloud coming out of my hot chocolate. It feels like it’s going to turn into a recognizable shape. Maybe a galloping horse or an upside down umbrella made for sunshine. I’ll laugh when you see me do that. Off into the wind. Galloping forward or gaining momentum on top of a spinning umbrella. Taking a sip of my hot chocolate I’m smiling now walking quickly into the library. The smell of books is the last ingredient added as the puddles of raindrops on my boots become saturated. Books contain perfumes I thought, drifts of energy emerge from their opened pages. I like that ending as I sat down in a cushy chair. I usually go right to the stacks of books, but today I didn’t. Taking off my rain jacket I just wanted to relax and settle in. It’s a nice room as I stare out the window noticing the streaks of raindrops on the surface. Libraries are quiet places, readers need to hear only the words they are reading I was taught. Having not opened a book yet, I was quite surprised to hear them; the resounding old voices. I sat there listening. They weren’t talking to each other and mostly it was difficult to discern who they were speaking with. Some words were missing and some were completely out of context. Some sounded like they were capitalized and others as a whisper trying to climb up a tree. A newborn tree I thought not ready to hold on to them yet. Libraries have so many books, so these voices must be from them. Old voices encased in pages yearning to be read. I was not their victim or choice, I was simply their audience. I was their ear and the more I heard them speak the more I understood why. I was there to witness their thoughts. Standing up I turned to them and replied, yes to perfumed lips painted red, yes to black stars in the sky gradually becoming light, yes to an avalanche of tears, wholly rivers into oceans and dry nights becoming day.

I found this site when I was 23, about five years ago. I wanted to make money from my writing, and one of the first things I found in my Google search was a Prose challenge. It's hard to believe it's been that long. The piece I wrote for that challenge, the first piece I'd ever posted on the site, might still be on my profile though it's buried pretty deep. I didn't win the challenge and between my bruised ego and hectic life, I did not log back in for some time.

Now, I visit this site regularly. Daily, if I can. Most certainly on the weekends. Though I definitely intend to pursue writing with some element of professionalism, I've come to truly appreciate the pure community of Prose. This is a unique environment. It's anonymous(ish) but brims with such personality and vulnerability that we are able to see into the personalities and interests of one another in a way that may I dare to say, most people in our personal lives probably don't. It is (mostly) free from the back and forth of our current climate and even when those topics do come up, they are handled eloquently. So is the nature of writers. No one had to tell us that the pen is mightier than the sword. We know it innately. The challenges that frequent this website are constant motivation; a no-pressure way to keep the juices flowing. They remind me of what it's like to write for the pure thrill of it, of why I fell in love with writing to begin with.

Many times, I think to call you friends. I've become familiar with the names that traverse through my notifications and it serves as a comfort. I enjoy seeing new posts from Prosers I admire, and I am always thrilled to see a new username come across my feed, especially when it leads me to discover beautiful pieces and fresh ideas. There are so many users on here that I would love to sit and chat with. I have friends, people I admire, and a small community in real life. It's different, though. No one gets a writer like another writer. That's what brings us all together, right? That, and the ability to fully express our creativity free from the scrutiny of red ink and rejection letters.

Sometimes I picture this site like a salon during the Enlightenment in France. An exchange of ideas, hashing out questions of the self and the world around. A small gathering would be nice, like in the ballroom of a Marriott or something, but sometimes I wonder if meeting fellow Prosers would ruin the sanctity of the site. Some relationships are better at a distance.

In my younger years, I'd make friends with strangers. Sometimes it was a chance encounter during travel-- an engineering student who doesn't want to be an engineer on the train to New York City, a recovering alcoholic on a connecting flight to Charlotte, a friendly kid on a Greyhound who saw my Player's Handbook and helped me build a character-- and other times, it came in small glimmers. A cashier at the gas station that remembered my name, a bus driver who would slow down if he saw me booking it to the stop because he knew I had to get to work, an old Native man sitting at the same bench each time I walked my dogs. My life is more quiet these days, but I still crave to build those relationships with people- a deep conversation with someone you've never met and may never seen again can be one of the most enlightening things you'll ever experience. I feel that every time I log into Prose.

I bathe in sandalwood to keep you all over me. I beg for your weight, giving your limbs permission to crush my limbs without having to settle for dreams of phantom bodies on top of me. I ache. To be kissed. Fingertips, matches on my skin. Your touch, sage to my negative mind.

I’ve been resurrected. I dance on walls, and forbidden fruit hangs in haunted bedrooms. Will I ever be a fantasy or will I wake up sweating, clinging to my own sheets?

There’s space for rent inside my heart. The plus side is there’s not much in there. Not many tenants, but they’re here to stay—don’t have the heart to evict them. Yes, I know some of them have moved out. Doesn’t matter. I’ll hang on to their stuff for them for as long as they want.

Most of this empty space I’ll admit I’ve been afraid to lease, worried I’ll find the wrong person to fill some rooms. But all this empty space makes me feel a little lonely. That’s gotten worse with time. Don’t get me wrong, I love my current tenants. They live rent free—the space they occupy I make sure stays theirs.

I’ve gotten better at putting out my “For Rent” signs. Most of my applicants are boring though. Nice enough, I’m sure, just…not for me. I’m picky, I guess. Then again, one has to be selective when renting out space in the heart.

“For Rent.” What an odd concept, considering I give the space away for free. Maybe I should change my signs. But I don’t want anyone getting any ideas and taking advantage of me. I’ve got plenty of room. No hurry to change that.