Unable to think, stopped at a wall, you stand motionless with the exception of the gentle tapping of your left foot on the tiled-floor in rhythm to the music that floats in your head. The same song, seven hours on repeat and you still haven’t gotten sick of it. That is a quality you really like about yourself. Other people overlook it.
Oddly enough you can’t think straight, but you write it all down anyway. Maybe one day it will make sense. Maybe one day the truth will come out. The truth you are the opposite of what you claim to be, that your heart is softer than you make it out to be, that you need someone to love you. But right now that is just not the case. They waste their words; they fall dead before they hit your ears, never to enter, never to seep down from your head into your heart.
You turn pink. He whispered something in your ear. It was far from inappropriate, but you are just that shy. His lips that close to your ear turned you inside out.
Kindly talking behind their back never was wrong; you spoke nothing but good things of them. Too bad you were too scared to say it to their faces. Maybe they would have loved you more, maybe they wouldn’t have left.
Candidly you speak. You shouldn’t, sometimes your words aren’t censored. But now it is too late, and you already let your secret out. You care more than they think you do. You care so much you cry for them when they aren’t there to see you. Your heart can’t take it for much longer. Do something.
Uncomfortable feelings of whiplash are nothing compared to finding all your playing cards in messy piles- don’t they know that you organize them every time before you put them in the box?
Fighting with your eyes closed, fighting all the while. You turn to black sheets of paper with names scribbled out in bright orange colors. Blankets of snow, reflect the sunlight and blind you, you are unable to get past this next hill. It is too steep. It is too steep.
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