missavanna
Her actual face was different than this one, but nobody else knew that. The makeup piled on in tons and kilos. The smile that was practiced in the mirror every day. The hair dyed shades darker than her own. She knew that it wasn't her real face, too. She liked it that way.
It was long overdue, really. Why she hadn't done it before no one but her will ever really know. But one day she looked out her large, palatial windows, and decided that today was the day. She put on her blue shawl and green overcoat, and trudged out into the snow, towards the direction of the castle.
I am determined to not give up I am determined to crawl out of this deep dark hole that my life has rudely thrown me into without any sign of hope. I will scrape at these walls of stone until I can pull my battered mind out of here.
It was July. I hated summer beyond any of the other seasons. Why? Don't fucking ask me why. All I knew was, it was July, I was lonely, and I was certainly not having any fun.
An object. That's all they were to him. They smiled, twirling around his life like a thousand toy tops. He didn't care about a single one of them. They were constantly around him; draped around the furniture after parties, curled around himself after a long night.
Himself being ready to go, he called upstairs. With a Southern trill she called back, "Just a mo'!" He smiled to himself. What a beauty she was. He adjusted his tie and stepped outside to breathe in the cool Midwest air.
In the past, she was alluring and beautiful. Her lips were bright red and her pores were filled with seduction. Boys would stop in their tracks, staring at her pale skin and flowing braids. But that was in the past. The past was so long ago. The past held a different person entirely. She sighed as she looked at the photos. Her heart hurt if she looked too long.
Underneath that blue sky we would run and play for hours. Her hair, braided into fishtails, would sway against her thin back as she ran, laughing, from my outstretched palm. Her checkered dress rose and fell in large flowing motions against the windy backdrop of a world we took for granted.
Local was the food that I ate. Local was the newspaper rolled like a scepter in my hands. Without my mother's car to transport me out of this dull college town, I was forced to buy everything locally. And it's not like local is necessarily a bad thing. it's just that every day I saw the same faces, the same dull, dreary, weary bodies circulating through a shadowy "life" here. I absolutely hated it.
There is nothing left but the single thought of it. Soon. Soon. Soon it will happen. Soon this will all be over. I paced restlessly. It will all be over soon. Soon. Soon. And my mind faded into that one singular word, relentlessly barraging my mind.
writing since 2012 · 11 entries · 10 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Savanna showed up.
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10days written
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the words Savanna reaches for
soonpastsmilefacemindlocalhimselflipswonderfulsingledullhatedbluehairagainstlarge