Blurb #3

Copyright Julia Bydulia.

Word Count: 99
Title: The Blushing Bride
---

The air was sweet and full of the scent of the flowers that the bride had chosen herself. The grass was perfectly green, the chairs were in perfect rows, the temperature outside was not too warm or too cold. Max was standing at the altar in his tux, waiting for the blushing bride with the rest of the crowd. As the music started, everyone turned around to see her arrive on the arm of her father. "I love weddings," I whispered to my date. Then, I turned my head to look at him and realized the seat was empty.

Blurb #2

Copyright Julia Bydulia.

Word Count: 93
Title: Road Trip
---

I pressed my forehead against the window and felt the cold jolt through my skull. “Are we almost there?” I asked, not feeling very optimistic about the answer. “No.” The word was like a popped balloon: you knew it wouldn’t last forever, but, you were hoping it would last a lot longer than it did. Then, in the end, all you’re left with is some brightly colored rubber and a very long drive home. I kept my head on the glass and closed my eyes. The world was more colorful behind my eyelids.

Blurb #1

Copyright Julia Bydulia.

I used to keep a journal just for 100 word pieces of prose (blurbs). In order to keep me writing regularly, for this week I am going to post at least a blurb a day. That's up to and including next Saturday.

I'm going to be posting them on my tumblr, as well.

Word Count: 100
Title: Sweaty, Stuck, and Miserable
---

The floor was scratchy against my back. I regretted taking off my shirt, despite the crippling heat. Through the window, the stars were winking at me. I did my best not to scream. At the stars, at the heat, at myself. At him. There was no way around it, no way over it, and no way under it. I was sweaty, stuck, and miserable with no sign of any of it letting up. That, and the night seemed unwilling to break into day. I prayed for all of it to stop. But with my luck, prayer doesn’t do much good.

Cotton Candy Sky

Copyright Julia Bydulia.

---

The air was thick and sweet, carrying the sounds of summer bugs. The wood of the dock beneath my feet was damp and rugged, and it scratched my heels. I clenched and unclenched my toes as I stared at the blue-green water of the lake and considered jumping in.

Behind me, I could hear him breathing. He held laughter in the air he was exhaling, and I could feel the laughter inside of me and surrounding me.

I had waited all year for summer, but, now that I had it, I wasn't sure what to do with it. I tilted my head back and stared at the sky, which was covered in shades of pink. The clouds were floating, grey against all that cotton candy.

Without a sound, I walked on my toes to the edge of the dock and lowered myself so that my legs were dangling off the side. The very tip of my big toe touched the water and sent a shiver up my entire body. I swung my leg and sent ripples through the water, that were swallowed by the other small waves that were moving through the water.

I heard his footsteps behind me, and then he was next to me. He was warm where the water was cold. He pressed his whole left side into my right and I rested my head on his shoulder.

I wasn't sure what to do with summer. I didn't know what to do with the sky, or the dock, or the sticky, sweet air. It all seemed to big for me, surrounding me and swallowing me in waves of pink and blue and green.

I wasn't sure what to do with summer, but, I knew what to do with him.

I laced my fingers through his. I breathed in the air. I looked at the water, watched the ripples and the waves. The summer was too big for me to hold, but, maybe that's not what I needed. I just needed to be a small piece of it, linked together with him.

So there we sat. The clouds kept on rolling and the water never stopped moving, but, I was happy sitting still in the middle of it all.

Rain on my Wedding day

Copyright Julia Bydulia.

---

I want it to rain on my wedding day
and I want it to stain my perfect dress

because no day is meant to be perfect.

We all remember the mistakes and the blunders
and that's what makes things memorable,

not perfection.

Perfection is boring
so I want it to rain
on my wedding day
and I want it to stain
my perfect dress.

Strike Us Like Matches

A continuation of Mini Golf.

Copyright Julia Bydulia.

---

Rain was pouring down in fat drops and slanted lines, though the sky was bright and blue. White felt clouds were glued to the skyline as we drove along the highway.

He was sitting behind the wheel and I was in the passenger's seat, my feet resting on the dash. "Where are we going?" I asked, tugging on my shoelaces and staring at my legs (shaved smooth the night before, in preparation for seeing him.)

He smiled and glanced at me. "Guess," he dared me devilishly.

I smirked and pulled on the bottoms of my shorts. "I don't know, Rich. The mall?"

He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. "Guess again."

"Mini golf?" I teased him, sticking out my tongue just because I knew he wasn't looking.

His cheeks flushed, but, he didn't say anything. He shook his head again and kept on driving.

I stopped guessing and he stopped telling me too, so we just listened to the rain hitting against the roof of the car. I looked at him once in a while, taking him in in my usual way, still blown away by the vastness of my feelings for him. I wanted him, I needed him, but, I knew I shouldn't have him. Danielle's words popped into my head for the thousandth time: Lil, you know it would crash and burn.

And that much was true. I knew it would crash and burn, but, I couldn't help myself. I still loved looking at his dark hair and how it fell in his face every time he turned his head.

"Can I put on some music?" I asked, resting my feet on the floor of the car and sitting up straight.

Without answering, he handed me his mp3 player. I took it and turned it on, smiling as I scrolled through the songs we both loved so much. I stopped on a Fall Out Boy song (labeled as The Fall Out Boys, one of our jokes) and played it, knowing I could sing along with every word.

"You are a getaway car, a rush of blood to the head, but me, I'm just the covers on top of your bed. You steer away in a rear view mirror, you make my head swim. I keep you warm and won't ask you where you've been," I sang, not looking at him. I didn't have to look to know he was watching out of the corner of his eye and listening sharply.

The guitar was strong and almost overpowered the rain, but, not quite. He joined in singing on the chorus, and we sang together, at the top of our lungs. "Strike us like matches, cause everyone deserves the flames. We only do it for the scars and stories, not the fame. At least everyone is trying, everyone is shining. Everyone deserves the flames but it's such a shame, such a shame."

It had been so long since I had listened to this song and it felt good to let the words slip from my lips again, to feel the chords ring through me again. I loved finding songs again and remembering every second.

"We're not going anywhere, are we?" I asked him quietly.

He didn't hear me over the music or the storm, but, I knew the answer. We were driving, moving, and it felt good. I felt good.

in a way

copyright julia bydulia.

stream of consciousness off the top of my head because it's how i'm feeling

---

i don't know if you'll read this
and i'm not sure if i care

because all that matters is
i like like you
and i hope you like like me back

because if you repeat a word enough
it can change its meaning

and i want the 'us'
and the 'we' we use to describe ourselves
to double and triple

until the meaning changes
and you are mine

and i am yours

because in a way i've always been yours
and i think i always will be

in a way

These Words Are Real

Copyright Julia Bydulia.

---

I never planned on pretending to
like the people I didn't or
hate the people I loved, but,
circumstances can change a girl
whether they be complication
and labyrinth-like or
simple like the wooden puzzles
from your kindergarten classrooms.

I never planned on having to ask you
pressing questions that
weigh down on me like a boulder
while I wait for you to answer
and to hopefully relieve me of this
guilty feeling I don't think
I should have.

I made the bed myself
and now I'll have to lie in it
but I won't let you lie to me
about the past, the present, or the future
while you promise you are being honest
like you know everything
and I am a fool.

Honestly, honestly, honestly,
---you are one of my favorite people
---to smile with, and to love
---but I am not going to let you
---act so nonchalant while I
---absorb the peoples' anger
---from every angle, every side.

No Safety Net

Copyright Julia Bydulia.

---

Without meaning to, or trying to, or wanting to you snatched me up and held me still when the rest of the world was speeding forward without me.

Even you were moving, getting smaller and smaller until you were a dot on the horizon that I could barely see. Whether I was being blinded or just blindsided was hard to tell at the time.

In the morning, I would always try to keep you away from my mind, from my thoughts. When you sneaked in, you would poison me with the promises I remember you making (and forgetting).

In the afternoon, my bed was rock hard without you there to keep me safe in your arms.

Safe.

The word has warped and twisted into something-some concept-that I scarcely understand now. There is no safety in the insecurity I feel when I walk into a room, alone. That alone-ness is the parting gift you gave to me. It makes my skin crawl.

It was a Saturday. I know it was a year ago, but I remember it. It was a Saturday. That summer was sticky in more ways than one.

You made it seem like a day together. "I'll come over," you told me on the phone that Thursday. "We'll talk, ok? Just me and you."

The bed was soft. I sank into it with you, your arm around my shoulder and your fingers playing with my hair. You whispered the words, every letter like a knife, cutting me, tearing me apart. "I don't love you anymore."

And just like that, it all shattered. I came unglued; I fell apart.

Those little piles of hair surprised me. Who knew I could pull so hard? Pacing and talking in circles, I begged you to take it back. We could forget it and move on. Go get some ice cream, I said. I'll never stop loving you, I said.

You shook your head and slid on your jacket, but, I wasn't having any of that. I grabbed your arm and tried to keep you there with me.

You walked away, though. I wasn't holding on tight enough.

Now, I am alone. The sun burns. Everything burns. Without meaning to, or wanting to, or trying to, you pulled me close to you and held me there in your arms, and in your eyes. Everything but your thoughts.

Now, I'm all alone. No safety net and no more love. Just old CDs to listen to when I need to cry and empty rooms to remind me that you're not here.