Muse Ariadne.

Hi, welcome to the Muse page. I'm actually really bad at writing besides the occasional fanfiction that is slightly better than whatever I wrote previously. I want to get better at writing though… At least try. I may not complete all of the prompts.

Warning for some personal writing but I suppose it comes with the territory, lol.

week of apr 22nd: explore on the softness & blurring of edges—dawn/dusk, the place between sleep and wakefulness, transitions from youthfulness to adulthood and adulthood to old age. what do those borders & changes feel like, look like, smell like?

(Strange state of limbo?)
Limbo

Falling down into the sea of black and white.
The outside noise drowned out by the sounds of my memories.
Disconnected from the body that my mind once occupied.
Echoes of a life once alive.

I move around in a state of limbo.
Unsure of where to go next.
No smell. No sights.
Except for my body swimming in endless nothing.

Full of anxiety and fear and alone in my memories.
Is anybody out there?
But I trust in the memories and in the blackness and whiteness.
To take me back to where I once was.

week of apr 8th: try to make your writing as silent as possible. i know it's a weird prompt-- don't take it too seriously. have fun. what does it mean for writing to be quiet?

(I… don't know… lol. So I'll talk about my experience being mute or finding it super hard to communicate while being overwhelmed / overstimulated.)
Quiet is less words. You listen. Don't speak. Talk only if have to. But less is better.

It hurts to words. Like burning at mouth. Like chain to my tongue. Like pepper in eyes.

Some energy spent ok. No energy spent perfect. I am tired. Time to sleep.

People hate the quiet. Never quiet for me, always talking. Time for silence is the time for rest.

No more talk. Goodnight/day.

week of apr 1st: explore the concept of time in your writing. play with the idea of how we perceive passing time [linear/cyclical/all at once/not at all] and make it weird and surreal, or maybe go more classic & write some fun time travel/time loop fiction. how does time shape us?

I like to joke that I'm a being who exists outside the realm of time and space. Really, I'm just constantly in a dissociative state.

As such, time is difficult to make sense of. Amnesia worsens the state. Time is fleeting. I live in seconds or minutes, not in hours or days. Perhaps, this is how most people live but my memory is equally as fleeting. Who was the person I was a minute ago? What was my name? What was I doing? Oh, what? You're telling me that I was doing that?

When time slows down everything feels like it's melting like an ice cube in the hot sun. Or everything feels super big or super small. I start to fumble at simple words, I forget who I am, I feel outside of the world. Or that the world feels outside of me. My soul leaves my body. What is this world anyways?

What is time but just another contruct. As I fade into the blackness of my dissociative episode, I begin to wonder if this is what death feels like. And in death, there is no such thing as "time".

week of feb 26th: write about echoes, sound, and reverberation. what is an echo– just sound or something more? how can it reverberate through past, present, and future? can emotion be an echo in that way? what else can be?

(This was the prompt that made me want to join the writing club. Um... I'm schizophrenic so... yeah.)

When I think about echoes I think of a long dark tunnel from which the echoes reverberate from. These echoes cry out saying various things: some funny, some random, some angry, some anxious, some dark.

The way the echoes scream and laugh and cry... continously. Never-ending. They reverberate inside my head but also outside my ears. Sometimes they'll even reach out to me, a tap on the shoulder or a grip of my hand. Past, present, and future doesn't seem to matter to these echoes. They will echo anyways.

Sometimes I'll yell back at them, urging them to stop or asking begrudgingly, "What do you want?" The response depends on the mood, but usually it's the same reply. Like a canned customer service message that repeats itself over and over again.

I wonder who's at the other end of the tunnel yelling these things at me.