Five little monkeys jumping off a cliff,

One fell down and became all stiff,

Hurt his brain and broke his bones,

No more monkeys jumping off a cliff.

Four little monkeys jumping off a cliff,

One fell down and became all stiff,

Stabbed his heart and broke into pieces,

No more monkeys jumping off a cliff.

Three little monkeys jumping off a cliff,

One fell down and became all stiff,

Burst his lungs and broke his nose,

No more monkeys jumping off a cliff.

Two little monkeys jumping off a cliff,

One fell down and became all stiff,

Snapped his veins and sprained his hand,

No more monkeys jumping off a cliff.

One little monkey jumping off a cliff,

One fell down and became all stiff,

Pricked his eye and bruised himself,

No more monkeys.

I don’t remember the exact day I discovered I could switch from invisible and visible. Just the day when I couldn’t anymore. The day I permanently became stuck like this. Invisible.

At first, I had my fun with it. You know, the classics: tugging at hair, scaring people, misplacing their possessions. But pretty soon, I got bored with that and people started to notice that I was missing.

My brother was the first one to call the police. Hysteric, he insisted I had been murdered or kidnapped--but let’s be real here, I’m an adult, it would be abducted. They made him file a report and wait. And wait. And wait. And wait.

Meanwhile, my parents were in Hawaii or Fiji or whatever topical paradize they picked out this time with their phones on silent. Honestly, their phones could have been on full ringer and I still wouldn’t expect them to pick up for me. I’ve always been invisible to them. Ironic, huh?

Since I wasn’t going to work--or my boss couldn’t see me there, at least--I lost my job. Lost my apartment too. Now, I camp out in the soggy corner of my brother’s apartment in silence. One tired evening I slipped in with him and have been hiding out ever since.

I know what you’re thinking: why don’t you talk to someone? Explain that you’re still there?

And to answer your question, around the end of week one of staying at my brother’s apartment, I broke my vow of silence. Then, I pretty much talked to him nonstop--until he was involuntarily sent to the physciatric ward of the hospital for hearing voices. It was hard to follow him in there. What, with all the fancy keycards and whatnot. I don’t talk to anyone but myself now.

He’s been gone for a few weeks now. For some reason, he can’t seem to convince the staff that he’s actually sane--though, I guess everyone in that building is trying the exact same. The apartment seems too big without him. My brother doesn’t have any pets or plants, so no one stops by. I’d leave the place myself, but then I’d be condemned to living life locked out. Completely abandoned and alone. So, for now, I’m gonna stick to eating his expired canned foods after I went through everything in his fridge.

It took a long time, but there was something my brother was able to get discharged long enough to attend. My funeral. Despite having enough money to go to Paris five times a year, my parents ‘splurged’ for a petite funeral for their only daughter. The service lasted exactly one hour and that was it. It was already over.

The crowd dispersed, but I stayed, looming over my new gravestone. It had my name engraved on it. Right there. Right above the fresh mound of dirt covering an empty coffin. My foot sunk into the fresh dirt. I suppose this is better than being buried alive. But, I still bit my tongue to keep from screaming.

My brother wasn’t readmitted to the mental hospital. I didn’t sneak back into his apartment and drive him insane again. Instead, I stayed at the graveyard. I sat by my stone and watched as my stone slowly blended into the sea of death around me like I blended into the background of everyone else.

Pretty soon, even my gravestone became invisible.

What’s to be expected, honestly? I did nothing about it. Nothing but curl up next to the freezing chill of the stone and wait for it to become warmer than my flesh as a soft hunger consumed my stomach. And wait. And wait. And wait.

Home smells spices

Peppers, cardamom and cloves,

All the smell coming from the stove,

Your tongue starts to ring

But still want more

Does the house smell of sugar

Cookies, chocolate, cinnamon rolls,

Smell coming from a light blue bowl,

Your sweet tooth starts to hurt.

But still want more

It smells spicy

Onions, garlic, shallot,

Amazing smell coming from the pot,

Your eyes start to water.

But still want more

The house is fishy

Sweet, sour and spicy

All the ingredients are jingle

Tingling tongue

But still want more

Open the door

You smell the love you really like.

I never thought,

My life would be on its last minute, like this

The incident that happened,

Was not my fault,

I just have to face the consequences,

Which were too harsh for me,

I promise I did not commit them,

It was just this stupid Disorder,

I can never imagine doing such a thing,

It's just that when my brain takes over

I am not me.

Now look because of my mind,

I am taking the blame for the murder,

I did not do it, I couldn't,

The real murderer is my twin,

The twin in my brain,

That I can not get rid of,

Now look at me,

Getting killed by my self,

because of my double personality disorder.

the furry creature snuffles in the damp and rich soil for roots, its creamy tusks digging in the ground.

its snout begins to tingle and it sniffs slowly in the air.

it follows the sweetly delicious scent and behold!

the forest jewels gleaming in the bush like rubies.

grunting in satisfaction, the creature enjoys its snack of forest berries.

it saunters of with a happy sensation, tail bouncing in the air.

If you can guess the animal, comment down below! :)

A monster is a result of the hurt that people have done to it.

Tears stream down my face as I burn them with my words.

Monster! They cry.

The flames engulf me and smolder all that I love.

But it doesn't matter.

They burn too.

When the smoke fades away, I am sitting on a pile of ashes.

The ashes of what I used to have.

The ashes of what they took from me.

What am I now?

A small and weak baby phoenix, reborn from the flames.

One day, I will fight back.

And call them monster too.

I never thought

for even just one moment

that life would meet death

Their ends finally touching

and their souls slowly diminishing

the universe that I used to live in

fading,

living seemed like dying