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Paper Vehicles

I sailed a paper boat into the ocean, I flew a paper airplane into the sun

Fake vehicles for fake people, crafted from suicide letters and private notes

I wrote the things I couldn’t say and I rode them away; secrets and dreams, whispers and screams, pleas from within and at the end of the day

I crashed them into mountain ranges and sailed into raging storms, knowing full well they’d destroy me

I sailed a paper boat into the ocean, I flew a paper airplane into the sun

Fake vehicles for fake people, folded from birthday cards and family photos

I took the things I could remember and I used them to escape; photos turned to sails, cards turned to wings, knowing I’d fail at each of these things

I crashed them into corn fields and sailed into coastlines, knowing full well they’d destroy me

I sailed a paper boat into the ocean, I flew a paper airplane into the sun

Fake vehicles for fake people, structured from unwritten nobels and sketchbook drawings

I took the things I once cherished and I captained them to ends; books became jet engines and art became anchors, destroying my things as I destroyed my self

I crashed them into buildings and sailed into whirlpools, knowing full well they’d destroy me

I sailed a paper boat into the ocean and I flew a paper airplane into the sun

Not to escape who I had been, but to escape who I’d become

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I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I’ve done, like my 2015 novel “You Ruined Everything”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my feed over at Ello. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip , buy prints/stickers and more at my online store on Big Cartel, or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Check Engine Light

There’s something wrong inside of me. There’s a small, flashing, orange light telling me something is wrong, but it’s a vague thought, something is strong and eating at my rot. It’s hard to pinpoint what is the problem, since every part of me is falling into disrepair, why should I care, there’s no gas in the tank, and the tire? No spare. My headlights are blinking, they’re dimming softly, no longer lighting up the way that they used to. The roads ahead of me are dark, I can no longer park in garages and take time to unwind and catch my breath.

The leather interior, the one people once lauded, the one that when new was first applauded, is now torn and weathered from wear and pain. The wind and the rain hasn’t been kind to the paint job, it’s been repainted time and time again; a new color, but the mechanical problems remain the same. My gears don’t shift the way they should, there’s smoke pooling out from under the hood, and my rear view mirrors can no longer see the potential dangers around them. Instead I find myself rear ending everything in sight, cracking bumpers, breaking head lights.

A mechanic? You jest. Someone in tan pants and a grey vest who could potentially fix the problems? I bet. Someone to take one look and know I’m upset, to write down on paper what’s needed to ‘fix’ me, who sees different problems than I see, who reads the owners manual differently. A little tune up, that’s what they said it would take, this is what’s at stake. Check the oil, the mileage, see that I’m not running the way I should be. The dashboard lights come on intermittently. I’m one skid mark away from a fatal crash, one blowout away from a brutal smash. The tires are worn, and I’m weaving in and out of traffic and I’m not wearing a seatbelt.

Check the engine light.

I need help.

Buy My Book!                Support Me Via Patreon!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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She Is Made Of Seasons

She had summer in her eyes, laying on our backs and pointing out clouds that look like something other than clouds; our hands just barely touching now and then between the blades of semi wet grass, light smiles dancing across our lips knowing that we were in eternal bliss together.

She had fall in her brain, clouded with nostalgia for a time her brain had convinced her was a better time despite knowing full well it wasn’t; we talked about the things that made us sad, and were grateful we both made eachother happy. The most morose season quickly becomes the most love filled.

She had spring in her heart, her bloodstream full of blooming flowers, wanting to pick them all and give them to me, and everyone else she loved; she could feel her body cleansing itself, turning her blood into clean rainwater, purifying her from inside out, and she couldn’t be happier with this new her.

She had winter in her smile, safe and cozy, and yet something cold at the same time, knowing she’d smiled at the wrong person one too many times and wouldn’t make the same mistake again, now reserving the fireside smile for those she really thought deserved it. Just as snowflakes are unique, so is every smile that crosses her lips.

She is made of seasons, full of constant changes, deaths and rebirths, and proud of the fact that she doesn’t allow others to stop her growth. She is herself, she is made of the years she has survived, and she will never be told to be anything else.

I hope to one day be as sure of myself as I am sure of her.

Buy My Book!                Support Me Via Patreon!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Shapes

you are a square and i am a circle.

there’s no reason of rhyme, just stating that i’m different than you. different than the others. you are a shape that fits anywhere. i am a shape that doesn’t have corners. i’ll have plenty of mourners; the kind who’ll pretend that i mattered, the ones who’ll say things like “she was special, ya know?”. throwing out cliches and faux praise, on this, the “saddest” of days. then they’ll go home and eat dinner, watch a sitcom and forget where i lay.

somehow, through our misshapen identities, we found solstice in one another; found the belief in eachother that we could be whoever we wanted to be. that we finally could understand the pain, the isolation, and be as one. but our shapes are too different. and frankly i’m done. i’m done being considered a second choice, a lesser voice because i have nothing to give when your triangle offers so much more. corners are the cornerstones of your relationship. they have points, you have points. i have a circumference.

if we try to mash ourselves together, we can fit, like slamming a puzzle piece where it doesn’t belong, we know that’s wrong but it feels just so right. i’m not one to judge your actions as my reactions are nothing but a blight, i admit, and when i see it, i apologize. i sit and cry and tell you how i feel, how real this is, how much i long to be a shape more pleasing to your own. a circle doesn’t fit anywhere. you have 4 sides. i have one hollow emptiness to fill. it’s not a thrill, exactly, but it’s still something that we can’t seem to get past.

but the other shapes. the triangle is more tempting. alluring. with their points to flaunt, a safety net of “i love you” and 2 cups of “the fuck do i want”. they’re sharp edged, jagged, and yet to pull yourself away would be to end all that’s seemingly safe, in place of trying something new. being bold, being you, being with me…well…it isn’t as fun as it looks to be. you are defined. you have corners and lines. you are the shape of the majority of furniture. bookcases and tables, beds and i…well i am a circle.

and you are a square.

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, the satirical online newspaper of “Nowhere, US”, my podcast “Coping With Tonal Shifts In Reality” or my writing over at Medium. Also, I collected all the fiction, poetry and some new pieces from this blog and am selling it over at Payhip for cheap, cheap cheap!

Wanna donate to me directly? You can do that via PayPal! Wanna support me ongoing month to month and get content early? You can do that via Patreon! Wanna support me but can’t do it continuously? You can do that via Buy Me A Coffee! Thanks for whatever you can spare, I really appreciate it!

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Nice Girls Don’t Burn Ants: Stories, Poetry & Essays

nice girlsThis collection is available right now, at Payhip! Granted, I won’t lie to you, it’s 97% content from this blog and my Medium page, but there’s a few new things shoved in there, for the sake of feeling bad reselling you previously free content you’ve probably already read. But here’s the thing, I am dirt poor and don’t wanna end up homeless, so I really need the money, so if you want to help me out, you could buy this and I’d be super duper grateful. In addition to this, my first novel from 2016 will be available early February, also over at Payhip!

This collection essentially collects almost all the fiction and poetry I’ve posted here, along with some blog entries I liked, and a Medium article or two; then it also has two brand new stories that run about 5k each, so that’s where we are. So, if you like supporting artists or simply like me and want to have my stuff close at hand without having to come to my blog to read it, now’s your chance! Anyway, that’s where we are.

Thank you for supporting my blog and my writing, and I hope you keep on reading. Knowing you guys are out there really makes me feel better.

BUY MY GAUDY WARES RIGHT NOW!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, the satirical online newspaper of “Nowhere, US”, my podcast “Coping With Tonal Shifts In Reality” or my writing over at Medium.

Wanna donate to me directly? You can do that via PayPal! Wanna support me ongoing month to month and get content early? You can do that via Patreon! Wanna support me but can’t do it continuously? You can do that via Buy Me A Coffee! Thanks for whatever you can spare, I really appreciate it!

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Wanna Buy Stuff You Already Read?

nice girlsI really need the money, so I’ve decided to repackage the fiction, poetry and some essays into an epub and resell you content you’ve already seen for free on here! Think of it as the Blu-Ray version of my content. It adds no extra value to your life, but it’s got a few new things (maybe 20 or 30% new content) and it’s collected in one package instead of that 4 page DVD spread you grew tired of back in 2004. So here it is. It’ll be out sometime this month or next at the latest, and it can be yours for a mere 5 bucks. If you like my work, or just like supporting/helping out the content creators you see online so they can continue living indoors and eating, then perhaps think about buying it? It’d be so super appreciated.

Anyway, that’s the situation. Sorry to advertise on this blog. I hate doing it, but my girlfriend and I are really struggling and I figure there has to be some nice people out there who’d like to own something like this. Like I said, there’ll be a good 20 or 30% new content included that won’t be here, either for a long time or ever maybe. Depends on if I ever run out of stuff to make. But yeah, there we go. Thanks for reading.

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, the satirical online newspaper of “Nowhere, US”, my podcast “Coping With Tonal Shifts In Reality” or my writing over at Medium.

Wanna donate to me directly? You can do that via PayPal! Wanna support me ongoing month to month and get content early? You can do that via Patreon! Wanna support me but can’t do it continuously? You can do that via Buy Me A Coffee! Thanks for whatever you can spare, I really appreciate it!

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Gene Therapy

I’d like to say thank you, I’d like to give praise
For all the skills you gave me that don’t help in anyway
Thank you for the flaws, thanks for the illness too
And thanks for the genes not even good enough for you

You gave me a myriad of things about me to despise
Things that remind me of you, like these ugly hazel eyes
When I look into the mirror, I do not see me
Instead I see the person that I never wanna be

So thank you for the genes, most of them were useless
In aiding in my efforts, most of which were fruitless
Thank you for your rearing, most of which was ruthless
And props to your fake love covered up by rudeness

A child isn’t born broken, not sure if you knew
But a child is an extension of everything you do
So if there’s a trait that you hate in the child that you view
Remember that that flaw came directly from you

Look inside yourself, ask “are these genes worth sharing?”
Don’t spend their childhood complaining and comparing
Never should you ask, “Why are they this way?”
The answer’s fucking obvious, if I must say

So thank you for the genes, most of them were useless
In aiding in my efforts, most of which were fruitless
Thank you for your rearing, most of which was ruthless
And props to your fake love covered up by rudeness

The only positive that’s come from sizing up to you
Is knowing that my good traits are not from you too
I inherited the bad shit, but I created the good
I just want that to be something that you understood

Everything that’s wrong with me in part came from you
Everything you hate in me, you hate in yourself too
But at least there’s some things in me that I cherish
Knowing full well every part of you that’s in me will perish

So thank you for the genes, most of them were useless
In aiding in my efforts, most of which were fruitless
Thank you for your rearing, most of which was ruthless
And props to your fake love covered up by rudeness

Your genes might’ve failed me, but mine won’t do the same
I’m breaking the cycle of self hatred and self shame
I’m becoming better and stronger than you’ll ever be
And one day you’ll be mad you didn’t get your genes from me

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, the satirical online newspaper of “Nowhere, US”, my podcast “Coping With Tonal Shifts In Reality” or my writing over at Medium. You can also donate to my PayPal or support my work at Patreon, where you’ll get access to patron only content and new content early, all for as cheap as a buck a month! Thanks for reading!