285. Repeat: Write about a time when you've had to repeat yourself or a time when it felt like no one was listening.
"I'm used to it," she said, through gritted teeth. "I'm used to it, I'm used to it, I'm used to it."
Repeat it like a mantra. Keep saying it until it becomes real.
With a shove of the spade into the freshly turned flowerbed, Maude knows that's a lie. You can't force something into existence, and certainly not a concept. Yet facing the truth was too painful; it grated on her pride and sense of self-worth.
No one cared about what Maude had to say. She wasn't funny or clever or smart. She didn't have nuggets of wisdom to pass out. She didn't speak too much or too little, but just enough that it was quite easy to ignore her. Maude wasn't talented or special.
But she still didn't know why they had to treat her so.
Another thrust of the spade into the earth. Maybe if she pushed it in hard enough she would matter.
But you can't make something come into existence.
The hard truth was that Maude didn't matter. She was always least important and least needed. The even harder truth was that it was her fault. She didn't try enough to be worth something, and she knew it. It was her Herculean punishment that she simply didn't care at all, until all at once she cared too much. Then all of the feelings she should have addressed earlier washed over her in a tidal wave that crashed her to shore.
How do you begin to care? How do you rid yourself of apathy? How do you be someone you're simply not, so you can be someone you like?
Maude didn't know.
Another thrust into the dirt.
*
This would be such an intriguing character to play with.
YOU ARE READING
365 Days (Part 2) | ✓
Short StoryEvery day of the year, I'll be writing a short story, a poem, or even a reflection over my own life. It's a wild and crazy journey. I like to experiment with different styles and different ideas. Ever since starting to do this at the first of the ye...
