110 Assumptions
There was a project we had to do in one of my writing classes last semester. It was called "110 Assumptions." You found a single subject/object and built off of that subject with, at first, 10 assumptions. From those 10, you had to make another 10 assumptions for each. They could be false, they could be true, they could be outlandish or whatever. It was sporadic, it was on the spot writing, no thinking. It was meant to be detailed, very descriptive. For me, to be extremely descriptive stole away my sporadic thinking. I was second guessing what to put down.
I wanted what I wrote to be raw.
So what did I do? I said eff the description and did it the way I felt was the most genuine. I did try to go back in and add after, but it still did not sit well with me, so I left it alone.
I did slightly get scolded for not completely following directions, but I was lucky she still appreciated my work and did not fail me.
You had to take some of the assumptions and make a piece/narrative out of them. I share with you my piece.
Untitled - By Shaire Blythe
Love does not exist when only one heart is consumed by it. My heart has stopped beating, laying on his chest. I know that what he says is empty promises. He has changed and he thinks I do not notice.
Promises are created for any fool who listens. I am the fool. Lies are the destruction of beautiful ties. What we once had had been beautiful and nice; it was everything I had ever prayed for. He has let go of everything he has ever prayed for.
He has a wandering soul that knows no place to go. Alone is what he will happily be without me.
Love is an emotion that can be faked by the prettiest actor. He is the best actor I have ever known. I rather be numb to emotions so I will never have to think of him again.
No one ever tells you how much love is pain. I want to be anywhere he has been, but know that it is impossible now. And still, I have to question why would I want to be where he has been. Like a little child, he gives the silent treatment when he does not get his way. We are both adults, and he rather not speak to me to solve our problems. Instead, he chooses to shut himself in his bedroom and listen to the paranoid voices in his head. He gets back to me when he finds it convenient.
I have come to realize, like the devil, he has no soul. His lack of a soul equals no home for another human being to dwell in.
I wanted what I wrote to be raw.
So what did I do? I said eff the description and did it the way I felt was the most genuine. I did try to go back in and add after, but it still did not sit well with me, so I left it alone.
I did slightly get scolded for not completely following directions, but I was lucky she still appreciated my work and did not fail me.
You had to take some of the assumptions and make a piece/narrative out of them. I share with you my piece.
Untitled - By Shaire Blythe
Love does not exist when only one heart is consumed by it. My heart has stopped beating, laying on his chest. I know that what he says is empty promises. He has changed and he thinks I do not notice.
Promises are created for any fool who listens. I am the fool. Lies are the destruction of beautiful ties. What we once had had been beautiful and nice; it was everything I had ever prayed for. He has let go of everything he has ever prayed for.
He has a wandering soul that knows no place to go. Alone is what he will happily be without me.
Love is an emotion that can be faked by the prettiest actor. He is the best actor I have ever known. I rather be numb to emotions so I will never have to think of him again.
No one ever tells you how much love is pain. I want to be anywhere he has been, but know that it is impossible now. And still, I have to question why would I want to be where he has been. Like a little child, he gives the silent treatment when he does not get his way. We are both adults, and he rather not speak to me to solve our problems. Instead, he chooses to shut himself in his bedroom and listen to the paranoid voices in his head. He gets back to me when he finds it convenient.
I have come to realize, like the devil, he has no soul. His lack of a soul equals no home for another human being to dwell in.
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