Amrutha Obulasetty
Bio
Hello fellow earthlings! My name is Amrutha. I am a HUGE rhetoric nerd and love to write prose and poetry. The best thing you can do to fit in is to be yourself.
You are WORTH IT!
Stay safe. Stay Strong. Stay Beautiful.
<3
Stories (4/0)
Time
A watch is used to tell time. It was created with the use to check the time. Now, some may use it more as a fashion accessory since it come in many colors and shapes. It can be matched with another article of clothing. Although many use the watch for different purposes, nobody wishes to use it as I have. My watch is a white circle. That is as simple as it gets. Its big blue numbers mean nothing to me as I put it on in the morning or run back into the house to grab it. The grip is strong since the strap is rubber. A bumpy rubber which leaves a mark if pulled too tight. This purpose is scary. It can be never spotted in a number of people with watches. This purpose blends in, and that's the point. It hides what people can't see with the naked eye with something that draws everybody's attention. When people stop to grab your hand and pull it closer to them for a closer look, they don't mind the racing of your heart, and the slick movements of their fingertips across the skin so close to them. They see the watch, and they see only the watch. Success, we think! They didn't notice, but they will notice when it's off and the red marks are no longer because of your watch. Now they want an explanation for which there is no believable lie. It's red, it's a darker shade, but your watch was never on the pull the skin and constrict its movement under the rubber and small piece of metal. Now it's because your skin was pulled by an object foreign to your skin, the cells have just been created. You're separating it again, and the metal object in your hand fits itself so perfectly, you think, into your fingers. You think no other object felt so close to you when using it for a bare amount of time. Time that can be told from the same watch you set as a reminder.
By Amrutha Obulasetty6 years ago in Poets
Laughter
I laughed today. I did, and then I stopped. I stopped because it wasn’t real. I stopped because the fluidity of my laughter was different than it was before. It was no longer molded to fit in my mouth. Laughter is a hard silver, a chunk of gold unable to flow out, only to be swallowed, never to be heard. It pivots around my tongue trying to find the perfect fit in an area where it’s moist and warm. Turns and turns until it can find a notch at least in my throat, it doesn’t find it. It keeps turning, churning, igniting flames of nothingness.
By Amrutha Obulasetty6 years ago in Poets
The First Visit
When the gates first opened, I recall waking up from my slumber into an awakening of darkness. It was a murky darkness where her doubts swim in a pool of confusion like fish swimming around in a pond. When she began to swim in the pools of ignorance, questions rose, igniting flames of discussion but never being able to get as close to answer.
By Amrutha Obulasetty6 years ago in Poets