You miss yourself. At first, you didn’t notice. Maybe you felt tired or cranky, lonely or lost in too many people. At first, you tried all the tricks to ease your heart and mind. Nothing seemed to work. You carried on, telling yourself that your emptiness was because you have found yourself living in an increasingly insane world. You are not alone.
Please bring us into contact with you. Imagine the place you love more than anywhere else in the world. Write for thirty minutes about it without stopping. Use sensory details. Write so that we not only would want to be there with you, but would cherish the place. If you are like me, you may prefer being in your favorite place alone or with one close friend. No matter. Help us love the place. Thank you
Here is an old message from a Breakthrough reader: (My apologies, Genevieve. I plead a sometimes gremlin Breakthrough mail.) My name is Genevieve Hassall, I found your link to the Raising the Dead Breakthrough tip. Bringing characters to life is something I struggle with, so I had a go at your prompt! After I wrote this, I saw that the post was dated to last year, so I hope you don’t mind me sending this through anyway. Wanted to keep the flow of energy going both ways!…and went on for a little more than one sentence, but I found I had more to say once I got started. Great prompt, thanks for the inspiration! Genevieve
Somewhere a woman walks out to her car in the IHOP employee parking lot. She wonders if anyone will ever know about her. Will she slog through the rest of her life and die, just another anonymous human. Her best friend – her only real friend – moved away six months ago. They’d met working graveyard shift at the International House of Please let this shift be over. Now, the only grown-up person in her life is her husband. And, he is more a child than their three kids. She loosens the brace on her left wrist and reflexively pushes her fringe, wonky from her last DIY trim, out of her eyes for the millionth time that day. She catches her reflection in the car window as she unlocks the door and is caught off guard by how tired she looks. As she slides behind the steering wheel, she reaches for the packet of make up wipes she keeps on the passenger seat and attempts to wipe away the day and avoid another breakout. The cheap make up sitting like oil on top of her skin is compounded by the residue of grease, courtesy of a day spent in and out of the fast food kitchen. Surely there should be a rule against getting pimples when you’re fighting off wrinkles.
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