claireg12
love is more of a procedure than an event; an event suggests luck as its catalyst, procedure suggests careful details in service of a result.
i could see them approaching through the windows, dusty and distorted in their age, and tightened my grip on the smooth wood of my chair. so soft under my fingers, i wondered how the leaders before myself handled this coming meeting. their palms sweaty, nervously running their hands back and forth on the wood, finding it much harder to breathe from a tightened chest. had they all taken it this seriously? surely i was a blink away from losing consciousness. i could already see the intruding black dots form in the corner of my eyes. i took a deep breathe. i had to compose myself. this day was inevitable and i knew that. but just another week? couldn't i have been given that? my title meant so much to me, i was terrified to give it away. they were coming through the door now and i managed a smile. as much as i wanted to cling, i knew i had to let go. my turn was up. it was time to let go regardless of how much i did not want to. they were all seated now, looking at me expectantly, already a number of them with foggy eyes. i had done my job and all i could hope was that my successor would hold the title as seriously i did. i opened my notebook and began my speech.
i can't see past your alibi. i am dulled from the inside. i am holding on tight.
my fingers like branches: they reach, but never touch
i cannot feel the duration of my days, it is with quietness that i lay
i looked up at him steadily, wondering whether or not the jitters, the butterflies, the nights of unclosing eyes and a wandering mind were all just pieces of my transcendental imagination, or if it was indeed a feeling mutually met.
this strength is foreign but it's here to stay.
success is at my finger tips.
its time to revolt against your love.
my legs like jelly, my hair a mess, i know you left me but you left me a mess.
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writing since 2010 · 48 entries · 45 days shown up
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