lil snippet from my creative writing assignment titled ‘only you are the life among the dead’ that is STILL UNFINISHED 😭😭 trigger warnings for graphic descriptions of injuries (car accident) — “I'm on my way, okay? Just— just keep your eyes open. Don't fall asleep." Charlotte's words are like a band-aid on top of a bullet wound, but her words play on repeat like a broken record. A false comfort she can grab onto for now. Don't fall asleep. The sound of pure metal meeting flesh rings through Jordan's ears, still able to hear it over the sound of her heartbeat thumping in her chest. She tries to move— move goddammit!— her mind screams. Her limbs are weighted down like lead and each moment passes is agonizingly slow. There's a heavy weight gripping her legs like a vice, refusing to let go. She wills her hand to move, the ache unfamiliar to anything she's felt before is like lightning coursing through her veins. She shifts, pressing down on the now mangled seat, flinching as minuscule shards of glass stick to her hands. Still, she forces the urge to cry out in pain down. She needs to get out. Oh… oh god. She’s hit with a foul scent, metallic and acrid, and she can’t help but continue to stare at it, gaze unrelenting. She forcibly takes a painful breath of fresh(er) air before looking closer. Ivory white stained in splotches of dull crimson is the first thing she can make out — her bone — jagged and exposed. Something else brews in her stomach, begging to be released. but she pushes the ugly reopened wounds down, swallowing whatever concoction of emotions threaten to spill out like the heaps of vomit she puked up moments earlier. Each minuscule movement makes her head throb, dizzying enough to make her vomit again. Fuck, she’s been through worse, she has to remember that — but it’s hard to not wince when every slight movement she makes threatens to tear the bloody mess even further apart, and her pain tolerance is sky high as is. The adrenaline starts the wear off, she can tell. Rippling pain shoots from her lower leg up to the gash in her thigh with an unexpected force, and her focus dwindles on the edges of exhaustion.

snippet of my poem for creative writing, titled: ‘a letter to my childhood dog’. pls be kind i am nawwwtt good at poetry and its my first draft. a letter to my childhood dog. may 15th, 2022. it wasn’t supposed to happen like this, quick— fleeting— silent it was supposed to be planned—in a vet's office while we cradled you, whispering “good boy” and giving you chocolate because it was your last day. it was my idea—that you should be set free of the suffering you endured. i miss you. instead, i wake to my mother's sob of sorrow as she leads me to your dead body, and instead of being sad, i thought to myself: “thank goodness,” i thought, “you aren’t in pain anymore.” except: i didn’t say goodbye. i miss you. grief is a funny little thing. taking up corners of the room, filling the air with silence in your absence. i call your name, only the wind answers. is it you? i wonder. expecting you to come running around the corner. except-- i wonder, were you scared? did you feel alone? or was it like a dream you don’t wake up from? wake up, i miss you. i keep your belongings in a box stuffed full, i make sure to clean your urn and sit it atop the mantle. when you slip from my mind, i look at it and stare, i don’t ever want to forget about you. sam. sammy. samson. my childhood dog. i miss you.