salonisingh2
Our love is a jacuzzi. When we first got in, we were excited. It made us feel warm, comfortable and safe; it felt like home. We sat there for a while, explored all its features, worked out all the kinks. We didn't even flinch as time rushed past us. Suddenly one day, - it could have been days, weeks, months later, who knows? - I looked down and my fingers were wrinkled. Clearly I had been there for too long and I realised it was time to leave. But yours weren't. It's funny, scientists say the wrinkling of fingers occurs to help us better grip objects underwater. Maybe if yours were, you could have grabbed onto me before I got out.
All my life I've hated chemistry and physics. I never understood their abstract concepts no matter how hard I tried. Instead I opted for biology, something an animal-lover like me thoroughly enjoyed. 3 things I did not expect to have to do in my first year of Biology:
1) learn the chemistry behind water, membranes and photosynthesis.
2) apply physics concepts of latent heat and vaporization.
3) dissect the brain of a lamb just like the one that made me smile on my way home everyday.
Molly lives in a bubble. It isn't transparent, or blue, or plain like the regular ones but it's equally fragile. On the inside everything is colorful, bright reds, neon pinks, yellows. Things inside the bubble change every second and sometimes it's bewildering but never boring - no, never boring. She's tried to let people in, she really has. But every time she describes her bubble to them, they say that funny word - what was it? - schi-zo-phre-nia. It sounds like they've made it up, but she's heard it from so many different people, mostly doctors. Anyway, Molly loves her bubble. It's her safe space. It's her happy place. It is definitely NOT a struggle.
Of all the strange things people have ever said to me, being called taffy was probably the weirdest. I guess it makes sense if you know where it was coming from: namely, my ex-boyfriend.
3 years and a bad breakup later, this is, in his opinion, the most accurate representation of my character: twisty, complex and the place where all problems come to seek shelter in its pink, fluffy recesses. Taffy.
I watch you through the glass -
Bending in unimaginable ways to fit into the mould.
Walking on a tightrope that only you can see.
Scared to even step off the footpath for fear of getting run over.
If only you knew that falling is an art in itself; if only you could break away from the stencil.