Today, I am 27 years old. Officially at that age where I can say I’m close to 30, officially at that age where I can look back on the last decade of my life and measure up what I’ve done, what I’ve yet to do, and what I’ve accomplished. It’s a dizzying, heady feeling and it’s easy to have it overwhelm me if I’m not careful!
Instead of focusing on that, I thought this site’s revival was long overdue, and an appropriate way to celebrate is to look back on 27 reasons why the heck I was so busy in 2015 in the first place. (Spoiler alert: travel involved).
Today’s Prompt: Write a one or two-paragraph extended epitaph, in the third person. Consider there won’t be a lot of space on your tombstone and yet you’re a writer, so every word counts. Try to say as much as possible using the least amount of words. What do you want to be remembered by?
I can’t believe we’re here at the end of this writing journey. Thank you for being a part of it. Here’s to the next chapter. 🙂
Jennifer [insert last name here, whatever that may be]
Daughter. Sister. Wife. Mother. Grandmother. Great Grandmother.
She loved with all her heart, created with her hands, studied with her mind, and traveled with her feet.
She saw the world, embraced it, and made it better. She laughed. A lot. And she hopes she made you laugh, too.
Now, on she goes to her next journey.
Still round the corner there may wait A new road or a secret gate, And though I oft have passed them by, A day will come at last when I Shall take the hidden paths that run West of the Moon, East of the Sun.
Today’s Prompt: Imagine you’re the villain in a story. Fictionalize and vilify your real traits to create a character out of your shadow self. Stay away from extremes. Give your villain self some good qualities, but let the shadow take over. What would he / she / you do as a villain?
She loves fiercely. Too fiercely, in fact, that it blinds reason. When she focuses – fixates = on one mission, one thought… nothing else matters. She’s determined, that’s for sure. Nothing will stop her from getting what she wants, when she wants it… and it doesn’t matter who or what is in her way.
She’s selfish. It doesn’t matter what you do, or say, or think. It’s her way or the highway. It’s her future that matters. It’s her needs that must be met. She’ll help you if you need it, sure, but she sure as hell has something to get out of it in return.
She keeps to herself. She likes deafening silence, likes hearing the sound of her own thoughts, her own pounding chest, the ghosts that keep her company. While she doesn’t turn company away, she doesn’t seek it out, either, much preferring the idea that she relies on no one else but her own self. Isolation is welcome. It gives her room to think. To plan.
She is friendless, loveless, alone, and it suits her just fine.