Fletcher Fox

“love means nothing at all” by Fletcher Fox

You’re listening to music, trying to block out the thoughts. You’re in despair. Hopeless, really. Hopeless is a synonym of despair. You’re both of those. You’re numb when he’s here, but after, it’s after that the impact truly hits. You start wondering why you’re still alive. You’re alive, you know that because otherwise you wouldn’t have a body that could feel. If only you couldn’t feel, maybe you wouldn’t feel this maelstrom of self-loathing, anger unable to be properly directed at its target, this indescribable despair that only ever hits ...

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“secondary” by Fletcher Fox

I’ve heard somewhere that anger is a secondary emotion, and that always makes me think about primary and secondary colors. My favorite color is orange and my mom’s is purple, so clearly secondary colors are more popular than primary ones in my family. Shades of anger, like frustration and proclamations of hatred, are also vibes my mom passed on to me, mainly as a teenager when we screamed at each other. I was allowed to be angry with her because she was angry first, sometimes at my dad and then at me for defending him, sometimes just at me. ...

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“Sleep alone tonight” by Fletcher Fox

TW: INCEST, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, ANXIETY ATTACK, DISSOCIATION I was never the type to romanticize prom. Queerness evident as soon as puberty hit, half the time I feared the prospect of even interacting with peers platonically, nevermind falling into a romance of the sort young adult novels were written about, ending in “Promposals”, the very concept of which gave high school students the illusion of permanence to extremely temporary romances. My first and only romantic relationship was with an extremely closeted guy that lasted three mon...

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“Never counted on wishes (breaks a man to see what he misses)” by Fletcher Fox

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #253

“I wish we could stay here forever.” Of course, everyone says that their first year of university. The excitement, the freedom of being away from home, the longing for an impermanent state to be permanent - that wish is genuine, yet rarely was it quite as potent as it was for you. You didn’t know at the time just how fleeting here would be - weeks later, you would again return to your childhood bedroom, a pandemic having closed down your new barely existent friendships, never again to be as easy to maintain as they had at that dinner table w...

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“Paradise Lost” by Fletcher Fox

TW NONCONSENSUAL INCEST AND MENTIONS OF SUICIDE They say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. But I knew, even as I was inching towards the deadline, staring down into the abyss I knew was reaching for me, I knew exactly what I had. I had even gone as far as to write over fifteen thousand words about it, an almost-novel, the setting ambiguous but very obviously a university. I knew what I had. I just half-hoped I wasn’t really losing it. That the fall was the fictional part, not what would later be memories of paradise lost. The l...

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“unfamiliar exploration within a familiar environment” by Fletcher Fox

Submitted to Contest #247

Can the concept of graduate school be considered a place? It certainly is unfamiliar, both like and unlike the actual locations the education takes place - or, rather, would be taking place, if I was actually doing real tasks beyond ‘exploring my options’. It shouldn't, really, be unfamiliar - I'm by no means a first-generation student. I grew up on stories of my mom's master’s degree from Columbia University.  Only she was studying a completely different field from what I want to study. She was a speech language pathologist, and I aim ...

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“select silence (or betray your only family)” by Fletcher Fox

CW SUICIDE ATTEMPT, INCEST/SEXUAL VIOLENCE The problem with secrets is that keeping them requires a level of intellect, an ability to know when to speak and when speaking will result in trouble. The easiest way to avoid trouble would be to quit entirely - when in therapy, that meant quit talking, letting the quiet of the body breathing do the communicatory work; letting the therapists pathologize you as they always did. Selective mutism, sure, you selected mute like the button on the TV remote. Your parents picked you up in the waiting room,...

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“comfort the disturbed” by Fletcher Fox

Submitted to Contest #239

Creating was carving out pieces of your soul, sending them out into the universe, begging for judgment based on something other than the physical body you were born into. Judgment comes when you show others your work, but you welcome it. Your artwork was there for you when nobody else was, and letting audiences in was a form of connection you allowed, eventually. Comfort the disturbed, disturb the comfortable - your work has always been good at that. Disturbing, disturbed, you've always been that. Your creations first began as a way out...

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“love is a four letter word and I'm already cursed” by Fletcher Fox

Submitted to Contest #238

“I -” I didn’t know how to respond. “I’m sorry; please… don’t - ” I didn’t know how that sentence would end as I said it, my mouth dry and still tasting wrong from the unwelcome intrusion. don’t do that again - don’t get any closer - don’t love me all those were possible endings to that sentence. Language formulation was why I didn’t finish my sentences, my mom told me. Certain natural disasters knock formations to the ground, and what they had just done was one of those.“I thought you liked me?” They questioned, and I couldn’t suppress the ...

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“Nostalgia, Not.” by Fletcher Fox

Submitted to Contest #236

TW: PHYSICAL AND SEXUAL VIOLENCE, PTSDYou can’t feel nostalgia anymore. You’re not sure if you ever could - can a child be nostalgic? You had difficulty understanding emotions as a child, especially ones involving other people, like embarrassment. Nostalgia doesn’t fall into that category, but it is an emotion that’s easier to feel when there’s someone to share it with, someone who was there at the time. The feelings your parents feel when reminiscing about your childhood just don’t exist in you. Maybe because you’re not that kid anymore. Ma...

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