Tag Archives: girl

The Rules of Love

Trigger warning: self-harm



No matter what lies you’re feeding yourself. It’s just a chemical and neural process. Something you can’t fight. Love is not a lie, but it is not much more than a very special kind of addiction.

An addiction you can manufacture.

Show niceness and attention. Laugh and flirt. Then withdraw. That’s what I did to you.

It’s a very simple effect, primed in our brains from times immemorial – we all need to get the best possible partner. But the best possible partner is too good for us and so he – or she – will try to get away, he will roam more and look for his best possible partner.

So the one that chases you is unattractive. The one that keeps you on edge; the one that tortures you with confusion and grows an eternal insecurity in you – that’s the one you love.

That’s why you love me, Brian. Continue reading

They didn’t know that it was just a show.

Of course they had volunteered. Low budget; volunteers instead of actors. It’s cheaper that way and, if you’re lucky, more interesting.

That’s the core of reality TV.

You will have seen the shows; weird experiments and challenges or just a group locked inside a bungalow and manipulated to hate and attack and love each other.

Now, not all shows make it to your TV screens. Some because they are too boring. Some because the test audiences turn their thumbs down. And some because of accidents.

Accidents, that’s what you could call it.

Of course, they all volunteered and they all volunteered all liability away. Those blanko contracts are strong; even with such unusual cases. The director had trouble and we a bit too – but our studio got off with just a bit of paper money to keep things quiet.

TV works in very simple ways. With ratings and advertisers in your back there is no room for creativity. Creativity dies a slow and dry death the higher you climb the ladder. I saw quite a few that lost their creativity first, then their honor, then their soul. Continue reading

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

He stared straight into my eyes.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

“Of whom?”

“How do I know what you are?”

“I’m trying to help you,” I said.

“Oh, fuck you. I know you aren’t. You are trying to figure me out. How many of us do you keep here?”

“Most are here only for a few weeks.”

“Stop stalling. How many?

“There are several hundred patients on the closed wards.”

Nick groaned.

“Several hundred! I knew it!” Continue reading

The Fire Sings

“It’s going to be nice,” says my mother.

She stood up, grabbed my hand and led me out of the hut.

Walking down the dry path we already saw the crowd setting wood in its place.

We walk around the site one, twice, thrice.

“It’s the tradition,” says my mother. “It keeps us safe.”

A girl sits on the floor, not far from the wood. Her mother feeds her the special leaves and the root.

“Chew well,” says the mother.

The girl cries. Continue reading

15 Years in the Woods

It was more than fifteen years ago and still I feel guilty. Still I sometimes cry myself to sleep. Still I wonder what in heaven I could have done differently.

It was a hiking trip. Laney loved the outdoors and I wanted to help her love it more. Laney was already in the girl scouts and loved that too but our local group wasn’t very active. I felt like it was my fatherly duty to grow my daughter’s passion for nature and exercise.

Just for the long easter weekend. I carried the tent and sleeping bags and Laney proudly carried our cooking utensils in her small dark green backpack. My then wife wanted to do the family tour with our two year old son.

I think that’s why we broke up – because she couldn’t look at me anymore without seeing Laney. She couldn’t look at me without blaming me.

The first two days everything was wonderful. We hiked mostly along a small river and sometimes through stretches of wood. Along the way I taught Laney about edible mushrooms and how to recognize fresh bear tracks and how her mother had always hated hiking. Continue reading

She tried to convince me that she’s not a figment of my imagination and I played along.

The young pale man sat upright in his chair. When I entered the room Dalton only glanced at me for a moment. His eyes seemed to be focused on the corridor.

When the door shut his eyes flicked around the room. Finally his pupils honed in on me.

“She’s not here, right?”

“We are alone,” I said.

“Okay. Okay. Sometimes I’m just worried that she comes in. She likes open doors.”

“You are talking about your girlfriend?”

“No. Well, yes, in a way. I imagined her as my girlfriend when I was a teenager.”

“And you are now 21?”

“Yes.”

“And you still see your imagined girlfriend?”

Dalton nodded.

“She just didn’t want to leave.”

“You don’t mean that metaphorically? You are really talking about an imagined girlfriend?”

“Yes. Her name is Arielle. You know, like Arielle the mermaid because I had a crush on her.”

“So this girlfriend is imaginary but she is bound by walls and doors?”

“Not really,” Dalton said. “I mean, she didn’t use to but now she pretends that she is.” Continue reading