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IV - Part 1: The Dreamscape (Rough Draft)

  Photograph: Michal Hlavac/Unsplash A white owl perched in a tree with brilliant green leaves. Its yellow eyes glowed as it stared down at the woman lying on sanguine dirt. She was motionless, but the owl watched her closely, tilting its head slightly. The sky was blood red, as if the world was ablaze, but there was no fire in sight. Someone’s watching me. Althea’s eyes flew open in a panic. She sat abruptly, her heart pounding in her chest as fear gripped her throat. The owl in the tree shifted as if it was commanding her attention. Startled, Althea looked up at the bird. It simply gazed down into her eyes with the same contemplative stare. Where was she? How did she get here? Althea tried to remember the events that brought her to this moment, face to face with this dazzling creature, but she couldn’t retrace her steps. Althea examined her surroundings. The green leaves of the tree were in sharp contrast with the sky. The white of the owl against all the red made it look like an...
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Unnatural Fate

Photograph: Sourabh Panari/Unsplash I didn't know what to do, but I knew I couldn't go on much longer. It had been years since I felt...right? Normal? I don't know what word fits. I just know that it had been years since I experienced it. Maybe never. My life was good, envious. Yet, despite all that, I couldn't stop the despair. The sense of impending doom. The feeling of unease. On paper, I was healthy. Everything was in the appropriate ranges and ratios. Except maybe my weight, but who wasn't a bit chunky in modern times? Pounds aside, my bill of health was snow-white. But that's only according to the things that can be measured. The things that we know to count. The things that technology is capable of measuring. But what about everything else? Numbers unseen, unknown, and unknowable? How was I in terms of those? I have no way to prove it, but I was deathly ill in the realm of the unquantifiable. Somewhere deep inside of me was a pit, a void. I could sense th...
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Drowning My Fears

  Photograph: Matheo JBT/Unsplash I always thought that dying would be panicked and painful. That lifetimes would flash before me—memories of moments long forgotten. I expected it to be so sad and lonely that I’d wish for one more—breath, hug, day, kiss goodbye.  I was wrong. Dying is rather peaceful if you let it be. I learned this on a random summer day in my youth. It was supposed to be a typical day. All days are supposed to be ordinary until suddenly they’re not. Dad and I took our usual trip to the beach. We’d spend the day enjoying the sun, playing in the sand, pausing the mundane. One of my favorite games was standing in the shallow spots near the shore and jumping over incoming waves. Dad enjoyed this too. I remember holding his hand and waiting for another wave to appear, but when it did, it was different. I’m unsure whether it was too high or forceful or if something disturbed it a little more than others. Perhaps it wasn’t different. Maybe we were different. Whatev...
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Some Poems

Some short poems for your enjoyment. Author My words All that I am A click on a keyboard Some ink on a page waiting to Be seen. Tonic They say, "You're so bitter." Yes, and I'm also sweet. Like honey with some lemon juice, I heal. All Warriors War and Strengthen muscles Keep practicing technique. Chiseled and sculpted, trying to be Above. All will Succumb with time Bodies are meant to fail, To crumble and return to dust. Fear not. © 2023  Completely Undone. All Rights Reserved. 
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A Bit About Me

Photograph: Daria Nepriakhina/Unsplash I have been toying with the idea of writing for a long time. I started and abandoned my first novel over a decade ago. I didn't know how to flesh out the idea in my head, so I set it aside and eventually let it go. Throughout the years, I'd pick up the pen off and on, writing poems and streams of consciousness. I have a folder with several abandoned short stories, some of which are quite interesting, even though they're unfinished. Part of the problem is an abundance of ideas. They come to me faster than I can write them. Another part is not having practiced enough to develop the skills I admire in other writers. A third part is being perpetually burdened by perfectionism and self-criticism. I'm constantly destroying things before they have a chance to take root. I  was sitting outside in the sun on a tiny purple chair with my Freewrite in my lap when I gave myself permission to just type whatever came to mind. I instantly started ...
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Welcome

  Photograph: Yoal Desurmont/Unsplash Welcome to Completely Undone, a space where I'll be sharing some unfinished essays, stories, poetry, streams of consciousness, etc., that I've written over the years.  It's a place to put some of my incomplete thoughts into the world, practice creative writing, and improve my skills. I firmly believe that there's beauty and value in the unfinished. When I go back and read the things I've written and abandoned, I find new meaning and connection in them. Hopefully, you'll experience some of that connection too. - Aneeda P.S. - I'm interested in connecting and collaborating with other writers who struggle with finishing, starting, and everything in between.
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