1001 Ways to Embarrass Yourself While Avoiding Injuries

Stepping forward into the darkness, she takes a RISK. Her hair messy and somehow coiffed, Her clothes elegant and scruffy at the same time- a gilded mess of purple and yellow flowers. This boy-child, hallowed, have the tables been turned? I who was Lolita have I become Humbert Humbert? What a risk, this angelic creature. I am angel too... Oh, what a risk.

The fat cat lay on the rug, Reclining and declining, My love and hope for it- Somehow saying it was not my equal. The cat had green eyes and the eyes were wise beyond its years and kin. The cat was me and I was the cat. In a flash of similarity striking like lightning, a scene replaying before my eyes, Titled deja vu by the believers, Madness by the sceptics. My hand is reaching out in time to touch the cat but when I come close, it disappears, into a bell jar, Down a tunnel, A rabbit hole? You cannot become yourself if you already are, the cat was running from me, and I became lost, In a forest of trees, like Alice, I saw a door, and stepped in and the door closed and cake I took a bite! The door disappeared and the fat cat was gone, and when I woke up, I was here.

This will be one of the more honest posts I've probably written, and what I'm about to write I genuinely believe in a 100%; and I hope you will too. I hope no one will read this, actually, because I am rather fragile after the breakdowns. I want a safe space to confess all my weaknesses and my sadness and my hopes and my dreams. There will... there will be no pictures, no catchy headlines, no interesting tag-lines, no witty stories, no creative writing, no plays, no commentaries, no social critiques. It is not the author's work you will see here, dear reader who hopefully does not exist, but just the author who does, very much exist. The first thoughts were the worst, dark and threatening, literally, to push me off the edge. I couldn't move, I was so, so, sad, depressed and angry. The stress ate me alive. I couldn't keep up with the high expectations. All my life I'd set myself goals I wished to achieve, higher and higher they reached until I could not rea

How did you get caught? (Or not caught, as the case may be.) Gnawing desperately at the slab of turkey breast I had hacked off the Christmas turkey in near delirium with a plastic fork, I ceased to pay attention to the surroundings. All I could think about was the turkey, the stuffing and my stomach. If ever there was a person fated to be caught doing the rare wrong thing at the exact, precise, worse possible timing… I suppose it would be me. And so, it happened. He walked into the kitchen nonchalantly, and I balked in horror, strips of whitish turkey meat stuck in between my teeth, one finger greasy from the stuffing, the others caressing an especially sumptuously plump mince pie. Dropping the remainder of the turkey in one hand into my cavernous and ravenous mouth, I pushed the pie as far away from me as it would physically go across the slick, faintly oily marble kitchen top. I had been caught eating the leftovers from the Christmas lunch we had … that we were supposed to