ellarose
It's easier to not decided, she decided. Immediately giggling because of the obvious contradiction. It fit.
She never did anything that made sense.
Maybe that's why she usually ended up alone.
No one could put up with the unpredictability.
They wanted decisions.
Summers, middle of the woods. Whatever we could find to mix with. Jungle juice. A collection of bad ideas, a group of people who can get away with them. So many adventures.
The ache tells me I'm still standing tall.
Creaking and cracking, I won't stop going.
My bones hold me up.
The florescence of the computer screen leaves few words sincere enough for this. Miles in between us. A glowing thread of electricity. Not enough to be a comfort.
The caramel colored liquid sloshed in my glass and I blearily looked at him from across the room. It may have been the whiskey talking, but I wanted that boy bad.
I read the books along it like the years of my life. They are all there, ready for me to revisit, flipping through pages smudged with dirt and crinkly with rain. More sentimental than the half-filled photo albums stacked on the very last shelf.
It was that perfect moment of sunset, when the sky is all different colors, fading down to dark, deep blue, and the trees are silhouetted, mysterious figures reaching toward the brilliant sun.
It's easy to not pay attention first thing in the morning, especially when you're used to everyone wearing black and white (penguins spring to mind, but, no, we're students). Eventually they realized that a number of students had inconspicuous rainbow ribbons pinned to our shirts. And today was when the new archbishop was coming for mass.
Here goes nothing.
It's a motto.
Running after something with wild abandon.
Waking up in cars to a 5 am sunrise.
Being bruised and battered and completely happy.
The sun hovered on the edge of the earth, reluctant to finally slip beneath the horizon and end this day. As if reading my thoughts. I wanted to stretch that sunset into infinity, never let the night come. It was that sort of day.
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