Hunter J Purvis
University student. Professional writing major. Minor in philosophy. Contact Info: [email protected]
Here to share content made at Uni or made for fun.
The Great Anamnesis
The alarm went off. A voice recording played and it said, “Mon, it is nine o'clock at night. It is time for you to prepare for bed, so take your meds, put out the fire, and get in your sleeping bag and go to sleep. Remember that tomorrow is a big day. You have to get up early, so you can go see the sunrise.”
The Sensations of Seasons
The Touch of Fall That morning, my pillow was soft and warm. The thin layer of fleece covering my blanket felt like the soft feather of a bird. As I went to make my coffee; my feet moved from the soft and warm blanket to the cold hard wood floor. The flavor of the day was pumpkin spice without the pumpkin or the spice, so basically just hot liquid that burns the lips. The warmth of the hot liquid expanded through the cup to my hands and a cold breeze blew up my pajamas. I was left with a simultaneously cold and warm sensation; like that of a mouth full of hot sweet potato casserole and cold vanilla ice cream.
The Journal of Ayub
Here we go, or really, I guess I should say here I go, since I’m the only one really writing or reading this lol. I feel weird, and honestly, I don’t like this. I don’t like writing something no one else will read. When I write, I want to know the reader or at least I want to know that there will be a reader. I want to know who I am communicating with. I don’t think it is possible to write something in which the only intended audience is myself. It’s uncomfortable. It is almost like talking to yourself in a room by yourself, which from an outsider’s perspective seems quite strange and even borderline insane. I guess being borderline insane is not new for me anyway, so who really cares right? But that does not solve my problem. I still find it difficult to write without it being directed to someone. I guess I could just pretend to be writing to someone or pretend that this is intended for someone to read. My therapist never said I couldn’t, so why not do it?