It’s far too late in the night and I can only hear strange bumps and buzzing. Possibly due to the wind or rowdy neighbours. I refrain from the urge to sit and guess. Somewhere in the distance you hear a fox and I can only relate it to a possessed dog. There is a moment of hard hitting reality damaging me for life and as I keep blinking my exhausted eyes I am somewhat aware the image in front will clear up, eventually.
Ironically when you are an adolescent, a parent teaches you to survive with a crucial lesson; 'you must learn to mask the truth'. Somewhere along the way I forgot all about it. I glided past half a decade with no real recollection of who, why or where. Surely I would understand at some point how detrimental this to my very existence. Correct?
Sitting at the table surrounded by random nothings, I pause, take a step back and observe. She sits staring blankly around her. Her hands rubbing her eyes as she squints at the dim overhead light. Her skin covered in goose bumps, she isn't entirely sure whether it’s the cold or exhaustion or something else altogether. Growing up is strange. You forget what it truly feels to be happy or sad. Numb feels familiar.
She feels that all too familiar kick in her gut looking at her clock. It’s still on the old time. She gazes at the seconds hand and wonders why it won't slow down like before. It’s early and she hears the birds chirping in excitement for a new day. She closes her eyes and tries to remember waking up for school as a child and the only birds she could hear were crows. Bizarrely that still soothes her senses. She clicks right back to the present and she knows its time but this time she can't plead for five more minutes. Another reminder she is no more that little girl who would kick and scream to get her way for now no one would listen. She gathers herself and pauses to breathe. It’s a long savouring gasp of air which hurts her chest; she holds it in and tilts her head at the grey sky. Finally a pout and a frown results in her breathing out. It’s loud and she is aware of herself. She steps out of the door in a rush, gathering all that she can messily as if to not remember to forget. She quietly sits in the car and takes one last look. Her eyes hurt taking in the sight, knowing its time. Its rather poetic how the car gently rolls off the slope, letting her absorbs each detail as she aches within.
Silently they flow from her eyes and she is painfully reminded why she fell in love. This saviour was always enough. People were simply sights in a city which needed no enhancement or facades. She begins a daily ritual of a conversation with herself. There is no mirror but she sees herself sitting by her side. Today there were no words. Just silence. Another chapter has ended and another shall begin. She drifts into another persona in the same dimension and continues as she is meant to.
Ironically when you are an adolescent, a parent teaches you to survive with a crucial lesson; 'you must learn to mask the truth'. Somewhere along the way I forgot all about it. I glided past half a decade with no real recollection of who, why or where. Surely I would understand at some point how detrimental this to my very existence. Correct?
Sitting at the table surrounded by random nothings, I pause, take a step back and observe. She sits staring blankly around her. Her hands rubbing her eyes as she squints at the dim overhead light. Her skin covered in goose bumps, she isn't entirely sure whether it’s the cold or exhaustion or something else altogether. Growing up is strange. You forget what it truly feels to be happy or sad. Numb feels familiar.
She feels that all too familiar kick in her gut looking at her clock. It’s still on the old time. She gazes at the seconds hand and wonders why it won't slow down like before. It’s early and she hears the birds chirping in excitement for a new day. She closes her eyes and tries to remember waking up for school as a child and the only birds she could hear were crows. Bizarrely that still soothes her senses. She clicks right back to the present and she knows its time but this time she can't plead for five more minutes. Another reminder she is no more that little girl who would kick and scream to get her way for now no one would listen. She gathers herself and pauses to breathe. It’s a long savouring gasp of air which hurts her chest; she holds it in and tilts her head at the grey sky. Finally a pout and a frown results in her breathing out. It’s loud and she is aware of herself. She steps out of the door in a rush, gathering all that she can messily as if to not remember to forget. She quietly sits in the car and takes one last look. Her eyes hurt taking in the sight, knowing its time. Its rather poetic how the car gently rolls off the slope, letting her absorbs each detail as she aches within.
Silently they flow from her eyes and she is painfully reminded why she fell in love. This saviour was always enough. People were simply sights in a city which needed no enhancement or facades. She begins a daily ritual of a conversation with herself. There is no mirror but she sees herself sitting by her side. Today there were no words. Just silence. Another chapter has ended and another shall begin. She drifts into another persona in the same dimension and continues as she is meant to.
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