Writing Prompt

The human soul changes the way our handwriting does over the years.

We learn the basics of it early on, and create our own unique alphabet.

We perfect it, our letters turn into full readable sentences, turn into letters.

We become comfortable with it, we are recognizable through the strokes we make on paper.

And it is when we've finally created our final draft, that we notice how much it differs ...

Are we truly unique, or are we mosaics of everyone we’ve ever known?

If I’m honest, I’d like to believe the latter.

I want a home like my grandma’s where there’s always a seat at the table, and no one has to wonder if they belong.

I want to cook like my mom—never asking if you’re hungry, just setting a place in front of you certain that you are.

I want to be as free as my husband always was,...

Humans are a strange topic

We imitate others

Friends, sisters, brothers

But they say we are unique

When I was little

They taught me that

We were all different, just flat

But it's not just a simple answer

I studied, in my own way

Hanging with people unlike me

And felt how the way I act and see

It matches all of them

No one can be sure

If we are the same

Or different, it's such a shame

But I thin...

My accent changes for everyone I meet,

Like a chameleon of personalities standing on two feet,

Am i unique or just a mix of expectations and choices made to please,

Did I buy that because I want it or because my friends said it was neat,

Am I pretending to be something more than I am,

Like those ads for things that turn out to be a scam,

If they could read my twisted mind,

Even If I was them I’d r...

We are all alike, in small ways

Things that were passed down in history

Things forever-living

Like sunrays

We are combined

Stitched from mosaics passed down

Each thread being cut into you

Small pieces being made new

Something different

But still the same

A mosaic different

Yet composed the way the other came

Stitch by stitch

Makes something new

The same template used

To create you...

My mother’s hands

My Fathers fine hair

My sister’s love of adventure

I say’ I love you’ easily

Because you said it without censure

I fight for every underdog

Because of all you bullies

I find beauty in a stone

Because you showed me truly

All my sobs and tears

Because he taught me how to cry

I saw how much I hurt you

And so it hurts to lie

Beautiful mosaics we are

- more beautiful with age

...

“That wasn’t rhetorical, my tender tadpoles. I am asking a real question and I want a real answer,” Dr. Lovelace said.

The ethics professor pranced before the auditorium of first year students as if to pounce. Avoiding eye contact at all costs, the students squirmed in their seats. Janeway opted to look out of one the wide classroom windows onto the maroon hills of the Mirrīkh University campus....

Are we truly unique, or mere echoes,

Carrying fragments of those we’ve met,

Lives entangled like threads in a woven glow,

Patterns stitched from moments we can’t forget.

Are we each a flame, a single spark alight,

Or shadows cast from those who came before,

Reflections in a window, flickering bright,

Pieces of the past we can’t ignore.

In the eyes of a friend, do we see our o...

Am I a vibrant mosaic, intricately crafted from the countless souls I have cherished, even if only for a fleeting heartbeat?

Each tiny moment, from the simplest smile to the most profound decisions, weaves together to shape my essence.

Or am I merely attempting to fill an aching void with the echoes of their voices, swirling around in my mind? Did I genuinely love them as they were, or was I me...

It’s a kick in the guts when you realise that you’ve never had an original thought in your entire life.

Not once.

Nada.

I am like tiny shards of glass that have been glued back together. Glued so tight that you might not notice at first. But when you look hard enough you see.

She’s just like her

Mother

Father

Brother

Sister

Best friend

I am complete.

And completely empty.

A faded carbon co...