The human mind is such a contradiction
We desire both freedom and restriction
We are the main character in our own lives
And yet the most helpless victim in our own eyes
When will we realize that pain and power is fiction?
About the Creator
Naomi Tyhurst
Art is meant to be seen and stories are meant to be heard. I create, because I want to share the dreams playing in my head.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Keep reading
More stories from Naomi Tyhurst and writers in Poets and other communities.
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
This really hits me. As a person who has OCD, I can say nothing feels more authentic than this.
This is it
Wow, this hits deep.
Too true. Love it.