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I wouldn't say this is SUPER close to my heart, but I feel like it's something which no-one thinks about and is important.

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Someone goes to prison because they did something REALLY bad, like murder for the sake of it, or even one of the few crimes that will get you beaten up by inmates until you're near death. During prison they've had time to reflect on their actions. They've served the sentence, they're allowed out. They're a changed person, according to the law they're clean. But then they try to do ANYTHING in society, and are spat on, insulted and seen as inhuman, for something they've already been punished for. That happened years in the past.

Fantastic idea. Now I wonder, would you rather I'd write in first person or third?

30,000 feet in a 737, an announcement comes over the intercom. "We have had an in-flight emergency. Is there a pilot on board?" You look around and noone responds. Just people looking around in fear.

Wether or not our cat is truly happy with the life we provide him.

Well, the closest thing to my heart is probably my best friend. We meet up about once a month to eat and catch up. We are both good tippers and we show up I'm between the lunch and dinner rush when the restaurant is mostly empty so the waitresses really like us and know us by name (they don't even ask me my order because I get the same thing every time). Well, a couple months ago, a waitress thought we were a couple on date night. I am straight and he is married with a kid. I at least still laugh at it.

The modern world is gripped by a loneliness epidemic. In 2019, pre-COVID, 61 percent of Americans over the age of 18 years were lonely, a dramatic increase since the 1970s when rates were as low as 11 percent.

More of us are chronically lonely than aren't. I have friends I enjoy spending time with. I had a ten-year relationship. I still feel lonely often.

Sorry, I didn't get very far because I am quite sleepy but here is what I wrote, so far.

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The first thing she did after unlocking the door, to her own home, was open the fridge. As she expected, everything was foul or plain rotten. It did not matter to her though, because nothing could beat that feeling of normalcy; being able to open your fridge and knowing that every single item there belongs to you. Even though they are all, either been spoiled for long made whole colonies of living things for themselves. As exciting rotten foods were, she made her way to her bedroom and threw her body onto the mattress. Nothing compares to your own bed, she thought to herself. This was a far cry from the firm beds she was used to, this one could swallow her wholy. It was a level of comfort she had not experienced for years. She started to fondle the phone she had installed at her nightstand, ‘what a fantastic tool‘ she thought. At that moment, the phone rang for the first time, in a long time.

“Yes?” she asked.

Going by the voice, she assumed it was a boy that had called her.

“Can I talk to Mr. Mort Here Raire?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mort does not reside here.”

“Could you call him, please? I promise you that it is important.”

“I don’t know what joke you are playing at but I am the only resident of this house, there is no Mr. Mort here, nor is he in my neighborhood.”

“Why don’t you just eat shit? Murdering whore!” he said right before he hung up the phone.

Bill. A gentleman who joined the army as soon as they got involved in Vietnam so he could choose a non-combat position. The worst "trouble" he ever got in was for bringing a badger home (they were friends). He also got a little talking to for doodling in church, since his pictures were distracting the other parishioners.

Christmas 2005. This guy is the most devout lay Mormon in the history of Mormons. Still, when my mom and aunt were misgendering my trans twin brother and trying to get him to drive their drunk asses around, Bill said, "Where is he? I can pick him up so he can celebrate with us." He was more thoughtful than self-proclaimed hippies.

Now he's in hospice. He doesn't have much longer.

I look forward to writing about Bill. They sound like a lovely person. Hopefully, I'll get a story for you tomorrow (I'm going to sleep now, I was more tired than I thought)

My lungs

A sliver of paper written by my deceased Grandfather. Very sappy and emotional but I feel like it also opens up a lot of opportunity for writing.

Listening to music as a coping mechanism

Doubles and doppelgangers and your experiences diverging wildly. You die and revive, but someone else brought the old you back from the brink of death. you die and revive, but you come back so fundamentally different that its a chore be the old you in order to cover up your own death. you die and revive as something fundamentally different, and someone else creates a clone of the person you were pretending to be so that no one has to really deal with the consequences of you dying.

When I was little, I got lost in my local stadium during a game. Thankfully, a staff member recognized me, and invited me up to the central offices so they could call out to my parents. I got the walk off home run ball that game, and I've had that ball ever since.

My parents have a farm in the mountains. There's a beautiful hilltop where you can look down on the sheep and chickens. Everything there has a sense of chaotic calm.

Well I'm not falling for that again. That is how the last fairy stole the tale of my wedding.

Cryptids. I love learning about different creatures, what they look like, the lore/legends around them, the history of the topic in general and reading about reported sightings/experiences. The air of mystery and fascination around the stories makes it all the better.

My mum, Anita. She died of cancer in 2020, but she gave me the best childhood a single mother of a full adhd daughter can. With lots of love and silly jokes

Hands me downs from a deceased loved one

My ribcage

Someone who has spent their entire life having other people tell them what to do and who to be is now being told that, according to the prophecy, they are the chosen hero and that they have to give up on their life for the sake of the people. This goes several steps too far and the supposed "hero" now tries everything in their power to get out.

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