[BIG FUCKBOI GAMBINO]

Erm. I need to write some cheerful shit. >c
prompt: the day her momma slapped her, or something.

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Yellow,

said to be the color of life. This color defines me a vibrant, jubilant, wonderful and spontaneous person, emphasis on spontaneous. My mother would tell me that there is no love without pain, and that it is all right to hit the ones you love every now and then. Tell them that you care, and you love – and to also keep them in line.

Love will make you stupid,

crazy, irresponsible, reckless and dangerous. A life without love is not worth living, but a life without love is so much easier. So less painful, all the confliction that arises from love, the pain and heartache, there is no greater pain than the pain from love.

I was wrong.

The first time I laid eyes on him, it was a magnificent moment, and I felt so lost, so blissfully lost. I could finally understand all those women when they spoke of love, how stupid they felt. Honestly, I never wanted to be grouped up in that lot. I preferred my individuality and how different it made me, how I stuck out – he noticed me and wasn’t hesitant to make a move.

He was a musician,

a real player, soft spoken, warm smiles and honeyed words. And even though I didn’t like honey, he was real sweet and just out there, y’know! He moved fast, and so I moved faster! And faster, and faster, and faster, and soon he fell behind. My first love? Oh no, I was already done with him, moved on to better things, things that I could keep up. Didn’t mourn him none.

The mirror,

never interested me, so I didn’t look. Days had just become blurs and what brought me back to my senses? My mother loving hands smacking my face, yeah she was right, you have to hit the ones you love every once and a while to show them you care. You’re there.

She’s gone,

it’s been many years since she’s gone. To a better place, maybe, I don’t think like that much anymore. I’m just living life to the fullest, so many blurred days, long dark nights, and sometimes, sometimes, I move too fast. But it’s okay, even though she’s gone; I keep her hands close by.

Locked away,

maybe one day, I’ll get out. But I’ll never forget the day I first felt my mother’s hands. It wasn’t the day she’d gone away and it wasn’t because of love that she struck me, but on that day and every day thereafter I died on the inside. Love isn’t worth the pain, but I will keep

momma’s hands close by.

[THE TRUE JIN]

updated

+ 20 points. Please update your points tracker.

Wasn't sure how you could turn that prompt into a happy one, but you proved me wrong. jeezus you write fast saito lol