Sometimes it’s just too much to take, something that frustrates my days and leaves me in a little bubble of my own; give it one touch and I’ll snap. I worry that perhaps I’m just a little selfish, that I really don’t care about anyone but myself, but I just yearn for just a little ease on what I take.
Do I get too involved? I guess so. Perhaps I’m looking too eagerly for things like these, to such a point that people just open up to me in levels I can’t even fathom myself. There’s just so many; it scares me to think that the person at fault would be me.
I get through with this as often as I can, but as this newer life continues I feel it growing heavier. The people add on, the stories make friends, and I struggle to find a way to keep this all aligned. So when I disappear for just one day, or let out an expression just a little too harsh, seeing how they react just makes me fall even deeper into such a mind-whirling pool of confusion on what it is I should do. Taking my steps elsewhere for even just a second leads me to feeling incredibly guilty.
Despite it all, there are undoubtedly those who know how to put my mind at ease. They aren’t people I have to tell this all about, because why would I tell anyone? Having them around just talking to me is enough to lift my spirit a little higher. And I’m incredibly grateful for them. I don’t think they realise, but I sure hope they’ll know it sometime. Besides, if I told them I think they’d frankly find it quite strange really.
Given this time, I suppose I can really think things out. The unimportant stuff is out of my head now, and my friends have always been the ones to help hold up the right filters. Call it a stressful day, another one I’m going to have to push to get through, but hopefully that’s a saying I won’t be saying too much from now on.
It’s funny how I could put all the trust in you like I do to her. Just how much of you do I know about you really? Unlike the rest of the world, neither of you were blind. Your words of irritation urged me to see for the second time, and only then did I really listen. Someone of your demeanor is just someone I could trust with almost all my life.
I know I showed you a part of myself I didn’t show to many people, but you were there, and you listened. You knew that I wasn’t in need of comfort and only in need of someone to help me and listen. You see, you were someone who understood me. And I’m only one out of a hundred more voices.
I never told you much about myself, but you knew me. Without you, I think the night would’ve rolled into a hectic whirlpool, so thank you. You were the one who made me really tune in, who made me understand what it all really was. No matter what everyone else said, you understood me, and you understood my ground. I know I’ve said it a thousand times to you, but thank you.
Perhaps I had imprisoned those memories; his constant smile, and the way he would never actually look me in the eye. There was that time when he stared at me in disbelief, waiting for a response. I chose to just laugh and look at the road ahead.
It was nice being with him. It felt like resting on still water, my eyes closed and arms at my side. I’d reap in the clean air, and I could let out that slow exhale.
But he had left. And those memories would always come back, always scratching at my mind. I’d try to get them out but they couldn’t, even with all I tried.
Maybe it wasn’t me who had imprisoned those memories. It was those memories that had imprisoned me.
He was just the type to see her in the rain and hold up an umbrella. Except he wasn’t holding it above her; he was holding it in the distance with his back to her. That was the cold heart that he held so dearly and yet she still had the capacity to love him.
The sky swept with elegance, an upside-down rainbow smudged into the lengths of the sky at 6 in the morning. A cloud had erupted, quite literally, resembling that of a volcano, white paint dabbed above the crater, as if dreamed lava was cascading out. Slight tension arose as I listened to music, looking at a bucket of gold-yellow spilling into the clouds, a true victory of light over darkness. Red streaks tore the sky in a distance not so far, the moon still alight behind me, seemingly watching the breathtaking scenery with me. It was at that point did I realise that I was looking at the world turn, an entire open sky doing a sort of angled back-flip in slow motion. Not long after, I looked back at the main view to see that the cloud was too large to be able to move its stuck arse from the canvas any time soon – not that I hated that of course. I wondered what magic was happening behind that silver lining, but from that I instantly knew that the sun would not be putting on a show for me this Friday morning.