IamBMETammy's Journal: Results from the writing exercise

1. Spacecraft
2. Parasite
3. Refugee
4. Volcano
5. Boiler
6. Generator
7. Jam
8. Photograph
9. Boxer
10. Onion

I don't think I belong here. I used to search the night skies waiting for the spacecraft to come back and take me home. But I'm stuck here, like a parasite going where my host goes, feeling as out of place and lost as a refugee. Maybe I am of this earth, but as alien as those creatures who live under the ocean, born miles under water in the bowels of a volcano and unable to live outside the boiler womb. The strange chemicals rise up from the vents, generators of unnatural creatures like me.

I could just be crazy... That would explain why I look for messages spelled out in the miniscule seeds hiding in my strawberry jam, little messages of hope or cries for help from the fruit before it is gone forever. Mutilated beyond recognition, nothing like the photograph of the plump berry the looks at me from the label of the jam jar.

Sometimes always feeling out of place makes me hurt inside, like a boxer has been using my soul for a punching bag. But I'd never let the hurt make me cry, I never do. If I ever feel like it I go cut up an onion and when someone asks why I'm crying I hold it up.