Facebook, wasting our lives since 2005. Facebook, helping us procrastinate since 2005. Facebook, keep us connected to people we’d otherwise have no connection to, since 2005. Facebook like prison; there’s an open invitation for all, but there’s no checking out once you’re in. Facebook like gossip; where your friends are celebrities, the newsfeed is the tabloids, and you can stay updated even while taking a shower as long as you’ve a waterproof phone and keep the soapsuds out of your eyes. Continue Reading
A hospital bed, a shrine of the living and a cradle for the near-dead. Life and Death drawing up two chairs—those horrid, hard, dark blue plastic ones, with the awkward metallic feet and the lack of armrests—and sitting on either side of the bed, playing their card games over the body, shuffling the deck on the rattling chest below them. They’ve played this game many times, countless times, a myriad of times, and each time there’s one of two results, there’s only one winner, there’s only two players to choose from, and the winner is always the same. Continue Reading
Was there ever a passion that remained a secret? Was there ever a love that didn’t end in fire—in the explosion of fireworks, a blinding spectrum of lights that warned everyone else to stay away, that cradled you close in its church of light and warmth and feeling—or in the cold embers of a love extinguished by a jealous wind that proved to be stronger, or by a betraying, blinding fistful of sand that tries to cover up everything that was once alive and breathing, or by a shower of tears when one lover has a change of heart and ceases to be a lover?