Sometimes, you are in anguish.
It could be that you saw a picture of your ex with another girl on Facebook, or that your fantasy football team has managed to win 110% of its games. Maybe your dog decided he hates you, maybe you just found out your entire family is planning on seeing Les Miserables at midnight … without you.
Whatever the anguish-cause may be, if you are an artist (pronounced “art-teest”), then you will inevitably want to express yourself through some sort of art, whether it be pottery formed from mud and tears, or a painting, also formed from mud and tears. I am a writer. It’s taken me a really long time to be able to say that without hating myself, but I heard a volcano or flaming horesman might murder me on Friday, so I’m going to call YOLO on this one. I am a writer.
As a writer, I express my grief through … writing. Obviously. Why do you think I’m typing so much? Each word adds a few minutes of distraction from my aching tear ducts. Now, I’ve learned (made up) something about art, and that is: you have to write about a million crap things to get one good thing.
And so, dear reader, I thought we could explore some really really terrible metaphors. The theme of this post is misery. Someday, maybe after I publish my first book about my struggle to publish my first book, I will muster up the sunshine to write a bunch of terrible metaphors about happiness. Maybe.
Let’s start with metaphors that involve food. The key is to think of a feeling and then describe it using food as a metaphor. Said my tenth grade English teacher.
– Loneliness is like biting into a bagel and then realizing it is moldy.
– Getting over you is like the worst food poisoning I’ve ever had: even months after the violent vomiting, I can’t trust other foods like I used to.
– I feel like the fruit tray at a breakfast buffet: neglected.
– Being with you is like eating a Hot Pocket: I worked so hard but am somehow so empty. And nauseous.
[Actually, I just realized that all of these are similes, not metaphors. You see, similes use “like,” or “as,” whereas metaphors just state that something is something, like a replacement. Look, I just did another simile right there. Like magic. (Aha! Again!)
I could go back and edit this whole thing, but we’re on a journey together here, people. Sadness has no backspace key!]
Boy oh boy, did that make me want to vom! Let’s move on to
metaphors similes that involve bodily functions because those are easy and relate-able because almost everyone has a body!
– Losing you has been like cutting out my own heart and watching a stampede of deer trample it, only to return hours later to nibble at it and bring pieces to their starving young.
– This sadness is like getting a terrible rash when I didn’t even roll in any ivy. Or weird itchy bushes. Or hay from the elephant exhibit at the zoo.
-It feels like my heart got a horrible knee injury, had surgery, but then broke its crutch and fell down five flights of stairs. And then got beat up. And mugged. (That was an inception simile because my heart felt like a knee!)
Wow! Similes sure are a great way to express yourself. Let’s try an old favorite of mine from high school: nature similes!!!
– I am like an over-watered rose, drowning in sadness.
– My thoughts were like rainbows. Now, they are only black and white.
– Unrequited love is like waiting for the crops you spent all summer sowing to grow, but then they don’t and you have to spend winter eating your
children hopes and dreams.
– Trying to be happy is like trying to get a fish to breathe out of water: smelly.
– My tears are like rain. Because they are water. Obviously.
– My eyes are like clouds. Because they make water.
See how easy it is to make up absolutely terrible similes?! And it’s super cathartic. I stopped crying into my cat at least four times to laugh at myself while writing this. And you can, too!
For the record, all of this has been massively over-dramatized in an effort to make myself laugh. Selfish. If you really are feeling as sad as those
metaphors similes, you should probably talk to someone. Like my mom, except whatever your version of my mom is. In the meantime, know that I love you as much as a person can love another person (or robot, no judging here) through a screen.
Feel free to comment with your own terrible metaphors!