Milly-Battle
The words bleed out of the page and into my shaking fingers as I try desperately to grasp their meaning.
A letter. Crafted by a girl who spent hours dreading this moment. Hands drifting past each other and eyes meeting eyes. Cheers numb her thoughts, as she pushes through the crowd. A letter, embellished with heartfelt drawing and decorated with painfully honest thoughts.
I used to dream about a cave made specially for me, where I could go and listen to the rain. I used to dream about a cave full of blankets to sleep in on those nights where I wasn't sure who I was, or who I wanted to be. I used to dream about a cave that could incase me in darkness and leave me to my thoughts. Then one day I started filling my cave with people, I started to knock down the walls and let people in.
I spend every hour trying to escape, fumbling in the dark for the path, always bumping into the jagged walls. Sometimes the light shines through, bouncing off of every wall, and for just a split-second I know where I'm supposed to go. I can see what is waiting for me, and that hope carries me through the dark.
I spend every hour trying to escape, fumbling in the dark for the path, always bumping into the jagged walls. Sometimes the light shines through, bouncing off of every wall, and for just a split-second I know where I'm supposed to go. I can see what is waiting for me, and that hope carries me through the dark.
Leathery has been the word for two days now.
I don't know that much about leather.
Jackets can be made of leather.
So can couches.
I like it when people where leather jackets.
It's kind of hot.