Face Killed the StoryTeller

So many words So little time, Reverse that, Scratch that.

I have non-fictional stories for days.
Ive had an adventurous life for someone my age, some regrets, some astonishing, and some completely so far fetched some may think it’s untrue. Im in my mid 30’s and have lived more lives and had more chances at living my life, than any reasonable person would care to admit.

People listen in awe with intent in their eyes when I start to speak about some of these things, they want to hear what Im saying because Im saying it. Being easy on the eyes with a kind spirit, I draw people in, even if they don’t want to be.
Does that make sense?
Would they want to hear these stories without the visual of the storyteller.
The answer is no.
Ive shared 1 story of mine from WordPress on a social media platform, acting like it was something that I read that found funny, no bites. A few friends read it and chimed in that of course I found it funny because it relates to me….
If I write under my real name on another social media platform, these people are ALL OVER it. They talk to me about it in person, the validate it online and they chime in.
But here when I share it, Nothing. ‘Cause its not me right?

I can speak freely on this platform with the same stories, even with parts that I intentionally left out in person, without fear of being judged because you don’t know me. I put myself at my soul bearing mercy to the same place most people come to make themselves be who they think they want to be.        Yet nobody is here to listen.

Where can I draw the line to be able to fully let it out with someone to tell it to. It feels good to release it, yet, there’s no feed back, there’s no interaction.
Should I allow those to know who I am, here, so I can get some validation
or
continue to express myself freely, with no one around, just so it can be said?

I want to be interesting without thinking they are listening just because I am who I am, but for now It seems they are just acting and saying things they think I want to hear for some odd reason I couldn’t even tell you. I am nobody to impress, so why do you act interested.

Do I not get clicks, reads or likes here because Im not utilizing the tags and featured images to draw a crowd? I don’t know how to use this, maybe I should put more effort into that then worrying about why Im worrying why nobody wants to listen to me when its not me.

 

Dissecting Bold

Today I spent a day asking people what they thought of when I mention the word Bold, with no other content than just the word. These were people from social media platforms, chat sites and personal friends. The answers I received were all over the board and that made me contemplate the word, in itself, deeper. Some feel the word and others visualize it. Some even made it a physical word. Ive decided to collect and dissect some of the answers that made me view this word from all perspectives.
I really hope you follow along and give me some input

Coffee was my first answer. “Bold Coffee” Most coffee drinkers know that there’s nothing quite like the first sip of, a bold, made just right, cup of coffee to kick-start your day. So that would be a feeling? Seeming you have to indulge in this particular word to understand the meaning of the one at hand.

Lipstick Now.. this one is tricky. When I think of “bold lipstick”, I think of Vibrant and Daring shade of bright red lipstick; Visual. I can envision a confident lady getting herself ready for an important business meeting and her finishing touch, is this bold kiss of death. Or just a lady of the night, wearing the same color :shrug:. But anyways here’s the tricky part, the woman who told me this word, is the type of lady that was, in fact, getting ready for the meeting, So me knowing her, she Feels the bold.

Leonidas (Im gonna have to say I did google this) is a person. Leonidas was boldHe was a strong King born from a demigod.. So I’m guessing the word can mean person … or maybe …. it was the actions of the person that brought him into this. Never the less he would be the best person, in my friend’s opinion, to describe out word at hand. Now not being a person of today wouldn’t it be a visualization?

Font Had a few of these answers, mostly in a chat room I visit sometimes. But being a chatroom and the availability to change it, I can see how this would be a go to. So font is Visual.

Flavor was another. I think of a Slim Jim, I mean many other things came to mind but I’m just gonna go with “Snap Into A Slim Jim” because I’m sure once upon a time before all the go vegan stage of people’s life, they have had a slim Jim. So back to Taste.

Strong Woman said by a stay at home mom, so this leaves me confused. Yes being BOLD and being a STRONG WOMAN go hand in hand. But what does Bold have to do with being a strong woman? Was this a feminist poke in a sea of mens responses? .. So I think that was BOLD

Actions This is my answer.. I think BOLD is a way of action. Not food, not visual, but an action. Being bold and standing up to a bully. Being Bold by taking the first step to change your life . Bold to me is Ballsey .

what does Bold mean to you?

B.K.

Is This Thing On

Nobody cares unless its “Me” Im guessing. Very little traffic.
Even if it is me, do they really care or is just a case to keep building.
I don’t know if they like me or are they are just curious to dislike me more.
Everyone has perfect reasons to dislike someone, Ive disliked someone for using the word skank in a sentence once.
Im reserved normally until get to be known. Then I’m quite random and sporadic.
Ive shared my stories and writings with my friends on a social media platform but not as “me”, just a randomly article I had read. No bites.
If I would have shared it as me I know it would be a different story. Those who even dislike me will read it, but why?

Luck Chance For $25

Theres a lady who tried selling her multimillion dollar home, without prevail. Wither she didn’t get the asking price or if nobody was interested, isn’t our business, but she’s finishing with a writing competition for her home. Then entry fee is $25.00 Canadian dollars and requires a story on why winning her home would change your life. Of course there’s guidelines and such, one being it has to be maximum 350 words.

I want to do this. Not because I feel I deserve the home more than the next person, but I want to help this contest. I also want someone to just read what I have to say. They ask that you write a essay, story or just paragraphs on why you should win. I want to win, who doesn’t want to win in any aspect, moreover, I just want to write something and have it read to maybe make someone feel something.

I am in no way a professional writer but I love to write about everything. Im considering writing this lady, but not for why I deserve her home, just because, why not. I do not hold hope that I will win, I just have hope someone will admire what they have read, smile, and never forget my story.

B.K.

 

Horror the Size of a TeaCup

Does anyone remember those neat toy plastic hummingbirds, usually subtle pastel colors, that would balance on your finger? The beak would, gracefully, just sit on the tip of any finger you chose and have you in awe. I had two of these happy little fellas, one to play with, and the other to dissect.

I can remember loving the idea of hummingbirds for the longest. Their vibrant colors and tiny little bodies, who couldn’t right? They fly so gracefully with super speed and just don’t seem to bother anybody or anything. That is until you stand up from laying in the sun on your pool deck and accidentally hit their feeder. Then they turn vicious I tell you.

I spent a few seconds apologizing to this loan lil guy, for frightening him, while he was eating what my family left out for him. Im not to sure if he understood what I was saying at first, then things took a turn for the worse. He just sat there with his freakishly fast wings and pudgy little body, staring at me like I just caused a war. I wasn’t comfortable with the fact his beady little eyes were penetrating my soul but in the end how bad this be?

You know that sound that their wings make? Im convinced its how they communicate durning battle. He flew directly at the bridge of my nose and just sat there, floating. He sped up his wings and it began to make a high pitched whistle sound while I stood there paralyzed in fear. What seemed like minutes of being held hostage on the bottom of MY pool deck, this little shit head came in just a little bit closer with the tip of his obnoxiously long beak a hair away from the top of my nose.  If I would have been paying attention, I swear I would have heard him say charge because what happened next is uncalled for.

I slowly started to back away from this confrontational creature and he stayed right with me, then it came. WACK, something has the left side of my face with a strange familiar whistling sound. I look over my shoulder and I am being bombarded by these graceful monsters, THEY ARE EVERYWHERE. He’s done called his cousins, his aunties and now I have to defeat his extremely pissed off boss.

As I go screaming and running up the stairs towards my back door, they are relentless and faster than me, they are using their body as weapons and I’m beyond terrified. They have yet to give up and are still slamming their bodies into mine. Alls I can think is that they are going to stab me with the sword mouth and I am about to bleed out. I reach the sliding glass doors and am able to get in without them following.

Im ugly crying and my mother comes running down the hallway screaming towards me trying to figure out what’s wrong. I cant even speak. She looks through the glass and sees the dozen or so hummingbirds taunting me to come back out, she sees me, distraught and breaks into hysterical laughter.

Needless to say, I’m not to fond of these creatures anymore and I made my mom get rid of the feeder.

B.K.

Untitled

Ive never believed in closure, I think its ones desire to feed the hungry heart. It prolongs the pain and deviates the truth. What is there to deliver you from with closure? They’re just spoken words, that no longer have meaning, for the emotional disattached. Why do they need to be said? Powerful words fall onto deaf ears, leaving no closure, just more pain for one of the parties. The meaningful altitude practiced in ones head, means nothing to the displaced.

The hard truth is almost never spoken but yet sweetened up to brace impact leaving many maybes or what ifs. Closure is bullshit. In order for closure to become what its intended for, the best interest is what needs to be addressed, but hardly is. As well truth is a hard pill to swallow and will leave an angry elephant in the room. Humans can’t take rejection positively and will most likely handle it in a manner that will need more closure.

When addressed correctly it could be the closure of a book that would never needed to be reopened.

Can you handle closure the way it should be addressed?

B.K.

sometimes love

Im not suppose to be able to count the days or remember the last time. It should be all the time so I don’t have to remember. Million things to say in a 5 minute time period that just gets lost with exhaustion when I’m counting the days.

I could talk for hours and get lost in company for the rest of my life; always rejected. I want to be mean, sometimes I am, but there’s so much more I want to say that I only let the mean last 1 of the 5 minutes I get in the counted days.

I don’t want him to leave I just wanna be in his presence and lift him up. I want to give him my energy even if Im reciprocating some of his bad, just to make him feel better.

I could spend every waking moment with him, maybe that’s why he left mentally, my love is too much with someone with sometimes love.

B.K.