Random writing (4)

Another 30+ degree day over in Australia so I’m going to be slack and re-cycle previous efforts i.e. share the products of my previous writing exercises. This is the last of my series of my conflicting facial expressions with emotions.

Topic: I have to cry whenever I feel angry….

I have to cry whenever I feel angry. It’s a way for me to work off the anguish in my system. As tears flow out of me, I can feel a tangible decrease in the weight nesting in my chest. Yes, my tears are heavy then, heavy with the intense anger suffusing my blood, choking me.

I have to cry whenever I feel angry else I will physically explode. I feel lava coursing through my veins at moments like that and I need an outlet. Yes, an outlet. That’s why I cry. Crying is my outlet….

I have to cry whenever I feel angry. It’s therapy to me, it soothes me like a lullaby soothes a baby.

Random writing (3)

To compensate for the shorter than normal post today, I will post the third of my conflicting facial expression with emotion random writing series.

Topic: I have to cry whenever I feel happy….

I have to cry whenever I feel happy. Good events are so few and far between in my life that I look upon each of them with gratitude. What expressions I wear for the rest of the times, you ask? None at all. I learnt to go without any expressions. You see, they become your weaknesses. Weaknesses that others could exploit. So yes, I go around expressionless. Expressionless when I’m depressed, expressionless when I’m angry, expressionless when I’m insulted, expressionless when I’m denied.

I have to cry whenever I feel happy. It’s the only expression I allow myself, in secret, in absolute solitude of course. I have to cry whenever I feel happy. It is a way for me to commemorate these few and far in-between occasions. As I cry, I absorb a part of these experiences to hold in my core in exchange for the floods pouring out of me.

Random writing (2)

Yet another of my random writing to share while writing insights are stagnating.

Topic: I have to smile whenever I feel angry….

I have to smile whenever I feel angry. This way, I make them really scared of me. And I keep them docile. Yes, docile underlings are the best. They don’t think on their own, they don’t get squeamish, they just act. They become valuable tools, extensions of your own ingenious mind, manifestations of your own iron will.

I have to smile whenever I feel angry. My father told me so. I used to cower when I saw him smile. I remembered the sense of fear taking hold of me. For me, fear doesn’t paralyse, it creeps up on me. First, it seizes my neck, then it slithers down my spine, inching itself along it ever so slowly. Inch by inch…

Now, I drink in the sense of fear that my underlings exude. Yes, they exude fear and the smell is absolutely intoxicating. Better than the sweetest perfume. I inhale deeply of the perfume of fear and I laugh. I throw back my head and laugh into the sky.

Random writing (1)

For a while, I’ve been trying to do daily writing exercises from some prompt but like my diary writing attempts, it died out after a while. However, because I cannot formulate a post that provides actual value to readers out of the 2 writing mistakes that I’ve lately discovered about myself for today, I’ve decided to make use of these outputs of my earlier efforts. The following passage is the first of a series where I’m trying to construct the situations under why a conflicting or at least non-congruent expression observed by outsiders could arise to the actual feelings felt by a particular individual. The actual phrase that sparked off this series again came out of Cathy Birch’s The Creative Writers’ Workshop: I have to smile whenever….

Topic: I have to smile whenever I feel angry….

I have to smile whenever I feel angry. This way, I make them really scared of me. And I keep them docile. Yes, docile underlings are the best. They don’t think on their own, they don’t get squeamish, they just act. They become valuable tools, extensions of your own ingenious mind, manifestations of your own iron will.

I have to smile whenever I feel angry. My father told me so. I used to cower when I saw him smile. I remembered the sense of fear taking hold of me. For me, fear doesn’t paralyse, it creeps up on me. First, it seizes my neck, then it slithers down my spine, inching itself along it ever so slowly. Inch by inch…

Now, I drink in the sense of fear that my underlings exude. Yes, they exude fear and the smell is absolutely intoxicating. Better than the sweetest perfume. I inhale deeply of the perfume of fear and I laugh. I laugh towards the sky.