Confession of a Discord Lurker
I’m okay at jumping rope. I will stumble only occasionally and smack the rope against my shins only every ten jumps or so. As a quiet introvert, I manage okay on my own.
However, trying to interact with others is like double Dutch. My timing is forever off, and worse, I am terribly uncoordinated. I hesitate, overthink, and falter. By the time I realize it’s time to make my move, the moment has passed. I stand nearby, flinching awkwardly and cursing myself internally.
I am painfully aware of my weirdness, but incapable of overcoming it enough to contribute in any meaningful fashion. So I will continue to lurk in the background, marveling at the incredible feats before me via Discord writer collaborations.
Yes, I rarely participate more than an oddly-timed phrase on even the general channel. I’m aware, my friend. But trust me, I’m trying-- I really am. Perhaps one day, I will jump in and I will somehow manage to remain on my feet. That’s my goal: double Dutch competence.
Precipice
They had paused along the trail so she could take a picture of an interesting-looking cactus.
“Momma, take MY picture!”
She turned to see her child. She looked into his sweet face, his guileless eyes the color of shadowed moss. Though already a voracious reader at age five, he still lacked the dexterity required to tie his shoes correctly. Her heart leaped at the sight of him; he was her joy in this world.
Within the same heartbeat, realization dawned and she gasped in abject horror. She could feel noises coming from her throat-- but could hear nothing but the loud and rapid swoosh of her pulse suddenly filling her ears. The camera dropped from her hands. Time had stopped.
Her son stood on a narrow, rocky outcrop, his back to the cliff. His small hands clasped before him in expectation of a photo and his shoelaces were in their usual spaghetti-like pieces at his feet. Cold dread filled her as she realized any self-adjustment of his pose would most certainly be fatal.
She lunged toward him with all her might, frenzied and grasping at the zippered front of his coat. The force rocked his little body backward and his arms began to windmill. At the very last second, she managed to connect with enough fabric and forcefully yank his body to hers.
She sank to her knees with him in her arms, suddenly wanting to be as close to the dusty ground as possible. She sobbed and kissed him, trembling in the fear of what had almost been. Her momentary distraction had nearly cost him his life.
The nightmares began immediately. Horrible visions that the coat zipper failed and he fell from her grasp. The worst dreams were the ones where she inadvertently pushed him in her panicked attempt to grasp him— that her very efforts had doomed him.
Years later, the nightmares have returned. Her calls rejected, and her texts ignored. Much time passes with no word from her beloved son. She fears that he is out there in the world, the culmination of his poor choices heaped at his feet. He is standing precariously on the precipice of eternity and try as she might, she cannot save him this time.
dating preferences
the phone rang at 03:08
unknown number
Well, the bleeding wound
on his forehead prevented him
from sleeping anyway
He picked up
"Yeah?"
"Hey," a girl's voice said. "Are
you the guy who
has a thing for crazy girls fresh out
of the psych ward?"
"What?"
"Am I speaking to the guy who's
very much into dating
sexy girls with mental issues that
other guys refer to as red flags?"
"Who is this?" he asked
"Oh no, this is not
about me. I just wanted to
introduce you to my sister. I think she
fits the bill quite perfectly
with you. What do you say?"
He sighed. "Tell her I'll call back
once my current girlfriend
breaks up with me. I hope she's patient. It'll
take a good couple of hours. Bye."
He hung up
***
INSTAGRAM:
https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/
just a bad dream. For now…
the door opened suddenly
and it hit the
poor dog who scowled and
got out of the way
before the woman entered
"Oh, for fuck's sake!” she shouted
Her hands were busy with
shopping bags. They looked heavy
and she looked tired
and quite pissed
and grew even more pissed
when she laid eyes on her husband,
in the living room,
sprawled on the couch,
buried under cigarette ashes
and empty beer cans
The house smelled of
singed hairs from his knuckles and
arms. Even burnt skin
and clothes
The small holes in his shorts
looked like crawling cockroaches
fighting over the crumbs in his lap
He greeted his wife with a
deep belching sound
and closed his eyes
"What the hell you doing?” she
yelled, loud enough to
make him open his eyes
"Dying,” he said
"What?”
"Dying.”
"Listen here, you piece of shit, I left
the house hours ago
and you were pretty much living.
What the hell happened in this
time?”
"I quit my job,” he said. "I quit writing.”
"You what?”
"Yeah. What's the point anymore? They
make all the art now.”
"They?”
"AI”
"What?”
"Artificial Intelligence, love. It took over
art. Completely. You literally just
punch some key words into a
search engine and the AI generates
art based on them.
First were the painters. They all died.
Painters.
People who draw.
People who design things.
Architects.
And eventually... us, writers and poets.
AI killed us all.
There is nothing left for us to do
but to die.”
His wife said nothing. Just
placed the shopping bags down
and came to face him
and sighed
"Darling,” she said, "it apparently
happened yet again.
You... are an idiot. Period.
But I guess that's what happens when
the faculty of imagination is
far more developed compared to that
of intelligence.
The goddamned AI... it's in that last
novel you're writing, isn't it?”
"Huh? What?”
"You're writing a novel about AI taking
over art, aren't you?”
"Oh... Damn. I... Uh, I love you. I mean,
what would I do
without you?”
"You dumbass...”
***
INSTAGRAM:
https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/
minimalist / maximalist
i’m a minimalist
not in what i own, but what i show
i minimise my emotions
i minimise my opinions
i minimise myself
i shrink myself, try not to take up space
but i’m a maximalist
not in what i own, but what i experience
my emotions are intense and messy
my opinions are strong
i am big and loud and affectionate
i take up space, but i’m allowed to
Glimpse of Your Mind
honestly i feel like writing is weird. i dunno why or how to do it i prefer drawing anime and i dont know why im doing this but it makes me feel good i cant think of anything so im letting my fingers do the typing for me im not even adding punctuation random words are stuck in my head like cucumber watermelon sour patch reeses pieces gummy bears i want to sleep but i have a project due on friday and also two more but im not done what am i going to do i feel like a failiure imma just go draw and go sleep.
to bring the big dream closer
everywhere you go
it's the same
all the big shots,
the people who made it,
athletes,
entrepreneurs, artists,
and so on
they all tell you
to dream big, to set high
goals and then
trust the infinite intelligence
of the universe
while you just do your
part of the work
he thought he was
surely not
the only one who
tired of it
but he applied the methods
"When I was young and
poor," said one
of the big shots
on TV, "I used to walk into
the most expensive
stores in the city
and I would try out the most
expensive clothes. I would
take them into
the fitting rooms
and put them on
and just look at myself in
the big mirror, trying to
capture that feeling
of already having what
I desired. Trying to see
myself actually
owning those
fancy things."
It was excellent advice
He followed it. Only
he didn't just
try out the
expensive clothes. He added
a twist of his own
into the mix.
"I'm too intelligent to be
able to fool myself," he
said to himself
in the mirror
in the fitting room. "I can't
cause my mind to
believe that I actually
own these clothes. I get the
thought, but not
the feeling. The only way I
can also feel what I think
is if I do something to
my body as well."
So he did it
Took his penis out
and started rubbing it there
in the fitting room
while wearing the
super expensive clothes. Now
he was the CEO having
sex with a super model
There was both
thought and
feeling involved
The manifestation was
surely just
a step away. It was coming
just like he
was coming
inside the expensive
pants
He then took them off
and put them
back on the
shelf
and walked out,
feeling like he accomplished
something
The big
dream
was closer to reality
than ever before
***
MY IG:
https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/
THIS POEM READ IN MY VOICE:
https://soundcloud.com/user-937736610/to-bring-the-big-dream-closer