Prompt Images





Fine, I’ll stop shouting. But you just never pay attention to me. I’ve been telling you the same thing your whole entire life, and you just keep ignoring me. I’m sick of it, to be honest. Your whole vibe is wrong. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.

For too long, you’ve acted like you’re nothing special. Like you deserve nothing special. You’ve let other people dictate how you feel about yourself, your worth, your self-worth.

It’s like you’ve forgotten who you are. Who raised you. Where you came from.

Well, not anymore, motherfucker. We’re done with all that noise.

I’ve got some questions for you, and I’m not leaving without answers.

What if you stopped thinking you’re weak?

Instead of just standing there, slack-jawed and soft-headed, like a defenseless baby cow living in a crate, waiting to be slaughtered and served at fine restaurants to people in suit jackets and pocket squares who never even considered your life.

You could never be that tender.

You’re a fucking bull. An OX. A belligerent Cape buffalo. You have horns and thick bones and muscles you never even asked for. You have a temper and a will of your own.

What if you got out of your own way for once?

Instead of just running around in circles, excited and directionless, chasing your tail like a puppy on hardwood, waiting to be taken outside where people who say they love you tell you where you can and can’t relieve yourself.

You could never be domesticated.

You’re a fucking coyote. A WOLF. A relentless wild dog. You have serrated teeth and a thirst for blood and a specialty for pack hunting. Once you’ve picked up the scent, you can’t help but chase it.

I worry you’re too caught up in the metaphor here to really listen.

So let me stop being so cheeky. Let me say it outright.

What if you just put your middle fingers up and stopped listening to the doubters, the haters, the voices in your head that tell you—



it’s too dangerous.

you’re going to get hurt. you’re going to fail. you’re going to die. you’re going to ruin everything. you’re going to be alone. you’re going to embarrass yourself. you’re going to get fat. you’re going to hurt someone. you’re going to need that someday. you’re going to regret this.

So what if you burn a few bridges? Would that even matter? You can swim, can’t you?

What if you just decided Fuck it, it’s time?

If you want it so badly, why not go and get it? Can you answer that?

What if you finally gave in? What if you just let it wash over you? What if you claimed what is yours? What if you stopped worrying about whether you’re worth it and just decided you are?


Do you hear what I’m saying? I don’t think you do. It’s very simple.

What if you finally believed you were good enough?

Instead of just fucking around, foolish and empty, like a circus monkey living in a cage, waiting to dance under a plastic tent for ungrateful people with laps full of popcorn who think they’re better than you.

You could never be the clown.

You’re a fucking gorilla. A silverback. King Kong ain’t got shit on you. You have the brains and the power, and these motherfuckers are slowly destroying your habitat.


You have two fists and one chest. It’s time to start pounding.

Kelaine Conochan

The editor-in-chief of this magazine, who should, in all honesty, be a gym teacher. Don’t sleep on your plucky kid sister.

learn more
Share this story
About The Prompt
A sweet, sweet collective of writers, artists, podcasters, and other creatives. Sound like fun?
Learn more