Short writing: Otto

I’m working on a short story/series of stories for my blog. I’ve been working on it on and off for a few months and I decided to post my introductory piece.


“Okay,” Diane huffs as she throws herself into the seat next to Calle. “I’m ready to get this class over with. I’ve tripped three times just getting through the house. I need to empty those damn boxes.”

“Yea, no shit, you moved in a month ago and for some reason, you still haven’t made things homey. I love coming over, you should let me clean up.” Calle responds handing Diane her morning tea latte.

“Thank you, dear.” Diane grabs the cup and sips.

“I’m just scared about what I’ll find in my grandma’s boxes. She and her wife are into some wild stuff and I don’t want to find some weird kinky things in those boxes… On second thought, maybe I’ll just let you look through it.”

“Alright, will do. Grandma and Gran have far too many things. I got you, girlie. Where is Shay? She’s always late.”

Just then, Shay runs into the room with paint smears all over her green overalls and some smears can be seen all over her arms and chin.

“I literally ran across campus. From the studio here. Not for class but for my-” Calle shoved a warm danish in her face.

“Yes,” Shay moaned as she sat in the seat next to Diane.

The two of them immediately slouch closer to each other. One enjoying her danish and the other sipping her tea and gazing at the video on the board. Today they are learning about the intricate processes of evolution.

As usual, Calle was the only one of the three who was writing out her notes aggressively., trying not to miss anything on the board. The other two jotting information down here and there. Knowing that Calle would help them study later.


The three girls walk back to Diane’s crowded home, their ritual after class. Once the door opens, Calle walks down the hall and heads for the kitchen to cook dinner and make them some tea. Shay runs upstairs to lay in Diane’s bed for her post-class nap.

Diane grabs her laptop and sits at the kitchen table while Calle chops onions on the counter.

The two girls work in silence for over an hour until Diane asks, “So, in evolution, there are some parts within the body that are useless now, like our tailbone, remains, even though we don’t have any tails so with that idea, my characters; if their ancestors had wings, they’d have wings bones? So, with wing bones, I can use the science within my world to bring those wings back. Right?” Diane asks Calle’s back.

Calle turns around for waving her knife, “Either way, it’s your own book with its own history, their history has a different kind of science. Just make shit up. If people don’t get it then, they won’t.” She turns back around and continues chopping.

“But according to Williams, the people within our generation will need to understand and connect with my plot. They need to understand the book and connect with the day to day in order for my book to gain popularity.”

“So say you write a book that conforms to society’s standards and everyone hates the book. Then what?”

“Shut up. You’re right but shut up. Am I just supposed to write this book for me and only me? What if no one gets it. Everything falls to the majority, to widespread media. So…. just…. How?”

“Just write. Let’s figure it out later. Go get Shay. Dinner is ready.”

Diane popped up from her chair and jogged up to her room. Diane walked past three unused rooms until she kicked open her own at the end of the hall.

She threw her body next to Shay on the bed. Shay turned over half asleep and just gazed at Diane. Diane gazed back. The two of them laid there staring at each other, unmoving for a bit. Finally, Diane whispered, “Dinner is ready.”

“Okay,” Shay replied, both unmoving. They heard Calle’s feet running up the stairs and the two of them slowly turned away and got out of bed. By the time Calle reached the room, Shay was heading towards the door.

Calle leaned against the door frame and slyly said, “I thought you guys were fucking. I didn’t know if I wanted to interrupt or join in.”

“Ha. You would just tell us to stop and go eat your dinner.” Shay grumbles.

The three of them walked downstairs and sat around the table, Calle already cleaned off the table and placed the food elegantly on the table. There were pots filled with pork belly, chopped scallions, green cabbage, jalapenos, limes, rice, and cilantro. A plate piled high with tortillas and a pitcher of sake margaritas. Tonight’s dinner was pork belly tacos, Calle’s specialty.

Calle loves cooking and combining both her heritage in every meal, Mexican and Japanese. She finds it a challenge. Both of her parents were born in America and don’t really cook so she learns recipes from her grandparents on both sides and cooks.

Shay drops herself into a chair and fixes her plate. She huffs and says, “I can’t believe that those idiots I call parents won’t stop drinking. They argue constantly. I know they hate Leo and I AND each other. They made a bad choice when they were young and now they are just miserable drunks who refuse to fucking grow. I don’t want to be there with them anymore. I’ve spent 25 years taking care of those idiots and hurting myself. I don’t want Leo to have to go through that. I wish we had somewhere better to go. We’re just squatting in my dorm room and hoping we don’t get caught.”

“How much do you have in savings? Can you get an apartment?” Calle asks.

“Not enough to afford anything near this campus. I can’t afford to pay for gas. I’m just a broke college kid.”

“It’s a good thing we have so much free booze from my Grandmother. Now we can afford to get drunk.” Diane says, raising her glass to the other two.

“HERE, HERE! Grandma has booze from everywhere around the world stored in her basement! I love her!” Calle yells, slurring her words a little.

“Your grandmother is a gay goddess and her booze and her home are saving us. Diane, you live in a fucking man… mas… mansion. How many rooms do you have? like eleven? twelve? Is there a pool?” Shay giggles.

“I do not have a pool and this house has I think ten rooms? I just stick to my own room. I’ve been too busy. There is an art room and a music room and a greenhouse. This place is wild.”

“THERE’S A GREENHOUSE?!?!” Calle looks up from her plate alert.

“Yes! It’s down the hall and to the right. I have no idea what those plants are but I water them every day. When I got here, they were dying.”

“What if they’re all mary jays!? Your gran is the coolest so I wouldn’t be surprised.” Calle implores.

“I doubt there is weed but I did see a bunch of herbs. Gran is a witch. Just like you, Calle.”

Shay jumps up, “Sorry, it’s Leo, one sec.”

Diane and Calle began cleaning up the table.

Shay runs back in, “I need to go, they caught us, campus police found out about Leo and they’re kicking us out.” She chokes on the last words.

“What? We’re coming!”

The three girls grab their jackets and head out.


They spent the night comforting the 17-year-old, frightened Leo. They all had to pack up Leo and Shay’s belongings, deciding they’d move in with Diane for the time being. Someone down the hall mentioned an underaged kid wandering the halls which made the campus police check in.

The police told her that she needed to leave housing immediately, even after explaining their situation, they kicked them both out. Shay was allowed to remain studying on campus but due to her financial aid and the housing policies, she needed to vacate her room.

The four of them traveled back to Diane’s home an unloaded their things in their new rooms. The girls sat in the living room complaining about their new problems and fell sleep on the couch together.


let’s take a chance

let’s take a chance
what’s living in our truth
let’s be authentic with ourselves
always and completely

let’s acknowledge when we must
forgive ourselves, others, circumstances

Let’s  be clear about what we need,
always and allow ourselves to

be responsible about that

we are made of love and deserve

love. I am now aware of that

I apologize to myself

for taking so long to realize that

but I forgive myself


I’m going to own up to my mistakes

to stay in my integrity;

continue to persevere

and to gain a deeper understanding

love myself

to all the boys who never loved me

I obviously had a year of some mild heartbreak……

To All The Boys Who Never Loved Me
I’d like to say you’re stupid

how could you choose
the skip over
my expensive
hopeless romantic love

how dumb could you be
the skip over all this treasure
the fall for knock-off love

To All The Boys Who Never Loved Me
I gave you so much of me
I gave you a taste of my
love, my appreciation and you
used it as a doormat

To All The Boys Who Never Loved Me
I want to thank you

I want to thank you
for your stupid choices

although I got hurt
I am also happy
I am happy that I’ve

I’ve learned that in “loving”
You, I forgot to love myself
I forgot how important
I am while “loving” you

I want to thank you
for not loving me back
because I love I would
Have given you would
have ruined me

I would have broken
myself in half to make
you happy

so all the boys who never loved me
I thank you for

helping me realize

I needed to love myself

thank you for not loving me back
now I can love someone better,

to all the boys who never loved me
thank you for being dumb as hell
thank you for not loving me
while you were still broken
because two broken people
don’t make a whole one

thank you for coming into my life
to help me grow
and become a better me
I just wish the same
because you were just as dumb as me.

Featured imagine found on Twitter.



I wrote a poem about the home that I’ve been dreaming about for the past few months. The place I plan on staying by myself and feeling the most comfort.


where tea is overflowing
and coziness is one step away

we’re soft music will fill the silence
we’re the only troubling voices
are your own or your pets

where you choose to be social
when calling to chat is in your power

where the characters in your books
become well-known friends

where you can hear and acknowledge
what your heart asks of you

where creativity is around every corner

where my heart can finally sit still
warm and loved
it is home.


The featured image was found on tumblr.



connected like trees
who’ve grown together

like s
who have

unknowingly morphed

sometimes, I don’t know
what’s yours
and what’s mine

sometimes I feel your energy
as if it’s my own

sometimes, I think of
when I connected with you

emotionally in bed talking
about our hurt
hours on the phone
just brightening each other’s day.

feeling your touch on me.

not knowing where your
body started and mine began

feeling your breathing.
knowing you’re there for me
in a way no one has been.

and no one will be.

just as you are/

we are branches that have
grown so close together

I don’t know which pieces
are made of you or which
is made of me

we’ve been ripped apart by a storm
and who knows
if you will be
brought back together

knowing that we are apart,
are we meant to remain
broken and Droopy?

or will we connect
once again?

what we grow to
stand on our own?

will we become two different
trees, blooming
next to each other
but never touching?

Drunk poem at 12:45am

my foolish heart fell for him

she felt that deep urge for him

wanted more than mediocre.

wanted to get that dream of being more than a solo person

to become a team with someone

my foolish heart looked at him

reach for him

wanted him

looked through all the hardships and the hurt

look through the broken I felt and broken I saw

my foolish heart stretched through the dark wanting to be more

wanting to see more

needing to be more to you

to be your muse

your joy

your excitement

like I feel for you

wanting moment shared between us

hot cocoa in the cold

cuddles in bed

wanting to be with you in moments of calm

I want you.

I want to lay up under you

I want to breathe you in

I want to understand every moment of your being

I want to share

I want to shed even piece of me

In being this open with you

that vulnerable place that I’ve never been before

not knowing how to be open

You, being too open

being in a  place where you don’t want me with you

being in a place where you don’t want me

you don’t want me

I’m not wanted

you don’t yearn for me as I do for you

do you breathe in me as I do you?

that love, that you don’t want.

you don’t want me.

My Foolish Heart by Jazmine Sullivan

Written in class. I think it’s a poem.

It’s kinda shit but, it eased a little tension for me. It’s not named. Maybe I can name it…

How could he not see her?
Years of being near her.
Years of conversations he never read into
Moments he could never see as anything more than what it was.
It wasn’t until now,
Her unavailability but friendliness is what finally draws him to her.
Now, he longs for her.
He reads into her friendliness with hope
That it’s coming from more than lust.
He gives himself longing.
Being quiet in moments she allows him to speak his truth.
He can’t see her as someone who can love him.
He can’t see her as someone who wants him,
So he keeps her in the dark.
After all that was said and done.
After everything was ignored.
He wants her, wants to hold her,
To touch her but
Can’t be near her.
Knowing there is no readiness for this romance.
The not knowing, unknown
Of what is to come or what could happen,
Can he enjoy her company without touch, without lust, or without love.
Or can silence be the only answer.