lauramar93
A gentle pitter-patter of glistening rain dashes across my windowpanes. I long for a downpour: something cleansing, revealing, and purifying. Something to reflect my melancholy, maybe justify my distress.
But, once again, nothing. Just the "drip, drip, drip" of the water tinking against the glass, mocking the feeble walls I've built around myself. What will it take to bring them down?
The must scent fills my nostrils, clogging it with the sweet aroma of decay. Pages spill everywhere, words and memories burst from the life of trees, begging, aching, screaming to be read.
Love me. Learn me. Figure out who I am.
Stacks upon stacks of these carefully caressed novels and self-destructive biographies clutter the floor, closing in on my every thought, my very heart, and the core of my soul.
It feels like home.
Go outside. Do something. Be something. Do more than just pass through life. Try to LIVE. Really live. Why are you wasting time? There are other things that are more important, more beautiful colors to see, more richness of life to be experienced. Are you really that self-absorbed? Change your life before it changes you. You have been warned: you only have one chance, and with it, you might as well live.
I'm standing there, looking over it. My heart doesn't feel a thing; I feel no rushing pulse, no adrenaline pounding my veins, no blood rushing through ears, deafening the horror around me. I stare at the abyss, wondering what it would feel like to fall. Wondering if anyone would ever miss me. And that's when I realize the only thing I feel is this:
acceptance.
Tendrils and curls; crazy and free. Who wants to be controlled by a hairstyle anyway?
I want to swoon, I want to give in. But I can't I simply can't. Do I really love you? I don't know. I want to be swept away by a breeze and that look in your eyes; I want it more than I've wanted anything in my entire life. But how can I love you when I don't even know how to love myself? How do I love? What does that even mean?
Split, broken, abandoned. The leaves gently skim the earth, lightly scratching my nerves, making me want to disappear, be cut in half again and again until there's nothing left. Nothing for anyone to miss, nothing for anyone else to regret but me.
It flashes, blinding all my senses, electrifying not only the dry, brittle earth but the weariness that lies deep within my bones. In another flash, a crash, my heart beats wildly, waiting. Waiting for what, my heart knows not. But my heart does know you.