Ami-Chan

Ami-Chan

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I adhere to my little place, my little ways passed me so many different faces pass I am transfixed at seeing them A striking purple catches my eye, then a daring scarlet next a beaming yellow again and again I see the unique brilliance of those around me All at once I look down at myself My eyes dull at the sight gray

My lips twist my face up, every pore, every cell dancing. I pop out of bed and do a little prance to the closet. I decide to take my time picking out my new skin for the day, having woken up early. My toes bring me to the kitchen, my heels too busy flying high to contribute. As I start up making breakfast, I don't even glance at the coffee machine. For the first time in a long time, I don't need it.

This is not something new, The twig twisting wildly from the steady branch above is merely a continuations for what should be And the branch bending down toward me, Merely a continuation of the tree Yet I ponder, perhaps pointlessly, about just what this has to do with me.

I stare straight on Glassy eyes just clear enough to see I can’t not tear my eyes away from the sight I refuse to tear my feet from the ground I instead dig them in deeper I clench my fists tightly around that little red string, Thin and delicate, Knowing very well how easily it could break Knowing it is our only link I stare as it slowly desintagrates Shaking hands causing it to sway Shaking knees causing me to sway with it It means nothing, does nothing But I still hold on till the very end Till it disappears….and long after….

"I specifically ask-!", wailed the twisted, red face. "Yes. I know.", came my signed response. This isn't the first mistake, and not the last. The difference between a white rose and a that of a black one is so small. So how am I suppose to know without being told? My eyes stay downcast and I hold in another sigh, "I'm sorry for the mistake." I would ask you to be more careful, but I know you shan't fail this time. You will be most specific, as you chose from which angle you will cut me down from next.

The institute is dreary in my little box It is to feel nothing To see nothing To be nothing My arms raise and demand release I stretch and shove against the boundaries Though my body argues with my mind And my reason with my want My eyes shake and cry with frustration at the blankness of my box Now my legs join in the fight alongside my arms My little box whines in protest But I go on My little box screams in anger and with a loud pop it's gone My eyes explore the the new sight My lungs grasp at the new air I know not what this worlds institute is But I know what it is not It is not the one that was my box

Dull, steel pierces through the bright shining world Screams and meaningless pleas bounce through empty halls Imaginary creatures leave you thunderstruck With their twisted and outrageous forms In this place full of the softest mummerings and the sharpest pain Fear is no where to be seen Fear is only found with the sane And for the patients and, yes even I With the strings so tightly strung in my head, Sane isn't quite the right adjective

iron

Break down the iron and steal Iron and steel Iron and steel Break down the iron and steal You need not worry Feel not the wounds it makes Wounds it makes Wounds it makes Feel not the wounds it makes You need not worry Do not scream and cry Scream and cry Scream and cry I am by your side You need not worry

steps

I struggle towards you, taking baby steps 1..2..3.. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping you don't grow tired of me 4..5..6.. We are a little closer, but I fear you are already sick 7..8..9.. I reach for your touch, will you reach for mine?

dawn

I watch from my place on the porch, as the sun rises, every inch of me covered with a blanket. I soak in the vivid sight of life till the slowly moving light inches up my face and blinds me with its brilliance. "You're up early.", a groggy voice states from behind me before I feel his arms engulf me. I laugh a little, lighting up with the distant horizon, "You are too."

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writing since 2016 · 39 entries · 29 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Ami showed up.

4longest streak

29days written

4entries / week

on this day 10 years ago

Ami wrote about pointed
“Sharp Angry It cuts It hurts The pointed finger Pointed straight at you You stare helpless Speechless There is no way to argue a pointed finger It is strange how the lack of words leaves you…”

the words Ami reaches for

slowlyclickeyestightlystarefacesounddegreelintscreamfingersgroundheartreachhandscold