April 29: Damage

From @chav_:
I'm glad tonight's almost over. Courage was leaving the house to be here with him, this creature who stole my youth, my innocence, who negged me to the point of suicide once.

But tonight was okay. Cordial. Deep conversations of the sort he's renowned for.

Turning to the waiter, he asks casually: "What's the damage?"

From Saumya Fernando:
Shouting out ugly slogans and demeaning names or manipulating the innocent and the peace-loving to exhibit your self-appointed power will never give you any peace of mind. We know your subconscious doesn't exist. We pity you and the futile effort you make to deliberately damage what is already hanging by a thread. Good luck, failures.

From @AntonyCF_:
1st Officer: “Captain!, she can’t take any more damage!” trying to keep her afloat.

Captain: “Just hold her steady till we reach the gates”, cringing, “where’s my support ship when you need one”

Right on cue, two support ships came from underneath on each wing to hold her steady.

Then there was silence.

From @chamfy:
'G-A-M-A-G-E', I spelled out.

'Oh! Easy. Rhymes with damage'.

I cringed.

'No, it's pronounced Gamma-Gay'.

The auditorium of boys erupted in hoots of laughter. This never got old.

'Where's your boyfriend Delta-Gay?', called out Jones from the back row.

Thus began the humiliation of another prize-giving rehearsal.

From @rami_desh:
The two-kiloton explosion drove the building far and wide, including the clouds of glass dust that flew in to her eyes, damaging not only her sight but her soul as well.

His well-being was damaged forever as he watched her struggle with the darkness and lose to a bottle of antidepressants.'

From @cernoblog:
Describe scars of history as evidence of what we inflict on ourselves. Or get sociologically personal. Detail wounds - typically on a woman or child. Inflicted by the familiar drunken man. Realistically, make art from sorrow, well out of society's gaze with (hopefully award winning) English. Futile? Yes. But why not? The damage is already done.

From Priyanthie de Silva:
"Damage control is of the essence" my friend had said. 'Easier said than done' I thought. The words had come out without thinking. It had hurt her no end. But it was too late, the bitter, biting words were out. May be true, but who was I to judge? Am I perfect? 'Damage control my foot!'

From @bhagsy:
It was obvious that they liked each other. Always looking in to each other's eyes with understanding. Kishali knew this was too easy to come by. The other girl was trying her best to take him away. Her skinny body entwining, creating a distance. Today the damage was done. He no longer saw Kishali, he only had eyes for the skinny girl.

From @PravNJ:
“Goddammit!” I muttered under my breath.

“This is going to be a long 2 hours…”

I scribbled away, surreptitiously glancing at the large analog clock staring back at me, the hands moving in almost an accusatory fashion. Tick-tock-tick.

The complicated diagrams came into focus

“Twenty minutes more? Fuck it! It’s time for some damage control”

From Raisa:
He used to say I was fragile, like a china teacup, liable to shatter on impact.

At first, I thought it was in play. Our breath, synchronized, only to have mine hiccup when he sank his teeth into my neck.

“Stop!”

“Sorry.”

Then he did it again.

The wounds took two weeks to heal.

From @PennyKinned:
“The sins of our parents have long shadows,” she thought, bitterly.

Turning away from him, she said, “I’m damaged goods."

“So am I.” he said, unexpectedly  “Who isn’t? I cannot heal you; nor will you be able to heal me. But can’t two damaged people be together? Maybe that will make us whole.”

From @shamsmakkiya: 
Brittle as a crystalline glass sauntered the girl in pulchritude. Unfathomable worries manipulated her pathetic soul throughout her life. The kaleidoscopic wonderland remained oblivion to her lost sense. The damage in her optic nerve was mercilessly beyond remedy.

@Mari_desilva
Distant to ensure self preservation. Distracted cos’ too consumed with larger picture to remain in the present. Cold cos’ am self loathing. Dysfunctional cos’ can’t detach from family baggage. Distraught at losing battle with inner demons. Selfish cos’ hurting many in the process. Damaged…beyond repair.

From @wikifreakz:
Having surveyed
the landscape of savannah
Moving towards
faraway mounts....

Zig....
....Zag
Zig....
....Zag

The desperate journey
of a straw-colored butterfly..

Coincidently faced a chaotic crossing:
express mail
traveling east
at 120 km/h...

Zigzagging now
through
the wide-opened windows...

Thus,
within a fraction
of a micro-second
damage is done..

Distance of Ages has been voyaged!