cynthiam
The air in the room seemed suffocating. There were too many people, too many voices, too much laughter, too much socializing. I had to get out of there.
My boyfriend ruined the new shirt I bought him for his birthday. I wanted to be mad at him but I found that I couldn't. His apology, though half-hearted, was accompanied by his signature, sweet smile. And in his drunkenness, his eyes glistened and the normally pale blue became a striking, vibrant blue. Even in my sober state, his allure was unconquerable. I felt myself staring at his lips, his strong, pale shoulders, his arms, his dark, cropped hair.
Do you remember when woman were still trying to get the right the vote?
Look at how far we have come since then.
Hundred was yesterday's word, was it not?
I remember sitting on the couch and writing about wishes a hundred wishes past.
A hundred wishes ago, she wished for a candy bar, but now she wishes for tomorrow. She looks at the white walls of the hospital room, and she tries to remember what the outside looks like. She recalls raking leaves with her mother a hundred wishes ago, and jumping in the leaves afterwards. She recalls eating grilled cheese sandwiches cut into tiny triangles. Maybe that's what the outside looks like, she thinks. Maybe it looks like families being families, and kids being kids.
"Help is on the way," he whispered to me, as I slowly lost consciousness. "Help is on the way."
I remember the feeling I felt at that moment. The feeling of hopelessness. Everything started to blur, even his face, the face I knew so well. I felt like I was losing everything dear to me, and that even if help was on the way, I would never get them back. It would never be the same.
Before you go accusing people of atrocities, you should hear their side of the story first. When it comes to judging it helps to not have a limited perspective. Try to be empathetic and step into someone else's shoes. You might be surprised by what you find when you do.
I was on trial for a crime I didn't commit.
It made no sense to me, that they believed I committed the crime. I am not the kind of person that would burn a neighbour's house down.
Am I being framed? If so, who by?
As I begin to descend into the life of an outsider, I become depressed. My friends begin to leave me, one by one, to fend for myself and my opinion is ignored even at the dinner table at home. I have become a shadow of who I used to be, I decide. I am beginning to become invisible.
Despite having seen his face from all angles humanly possible, she still couldn't recognize him. His once brown curly hair was a blur, along with the rest of him. She could hear a smile in his voice, but she couldn't see it on his face. She had gone blind, but despite it all he still loved her.
United we stand,
Hand in hand,
Together forever
In this land
We call ours.
I hear you calling me
To come and see
My future, and everything
That it could possibly be.
I run, fast on my feet
Towards you, excited to meet
My future self after all
This time waiting.
You smile, and watch me run.
I wonder if you think the same thoughts as I.
Do you wonder if in the future,
We will become individuals
Separate of each other,
No longer held together?
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writing since 2012 · 15 entries · 10 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Cynthia showed up.
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the words Cynthia reaches for
alivefeelingmeetwisheslovehairwaitingfacerememberhundredhearfuturesmilehelpwindsomewhere