The story I am about to tell you
is only a story, but like any creative fiction, there is truth, mixed with lies.
I was a stranger to myself
So, I went to my adviser for help
“What do you want to do?” He asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What are you good at?”
“I can write.”
“What are you interested in?”
“People.”
“There you have it. Write about people.”
But when I tried, it wasn’t easy.
I thought about doing what he was doing.
I could get a cozy office in the education building
and ask students three questions
but when I visited, the second time
he jumped
splattering on the sidewalk
A suicide?
I told a professor
and when we got back
the body was missing
only a crucifix remained
I followed his advice, like gospel
wearing the sacred cross
while writing about people
and I stay away
from third floor windows
Two teachers told me, my advisor wasn’t real
I had discovered
and murdered
the stranger
inside
me.
Did it make you whole again?
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That’s a good question… the ghost inside, died, I guess… but I still hear voices, so–I think he’s still there.
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And so life comes from death in the endless struggle between light and dark
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Yes! I think that is true. Well said! Thanks for reading and commenting Malinda Meadows!
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Beautiful lines! Well shared 🎉🤗
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Thanks Priti! 🙂
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