When the weather became sunnier he would walk a mile and a half in hopes of a better way to spend his time. To take off your glasses while walking towards the place you’ve mistakenly labeled home everything is blurry enough to make yourself settle back into the comfortable adaptation you called your dream. To stumble in a somewhat awkward angle with the fingers put into your pockets, freezing at the tips, some sort of comfort following you while you slip and catch your balance throughout the process of crawling up that hill to the train station we called beautiful. And there you stood. On the edge, under the rain, with soft hair and dry lips. Cracked and chapped in results of ignorance and lack of worry. Your shoes are fading in color; your scarf is irrelevant as always and you’re waiting. You’re waiting and blinking for much too long thinking, how much longer you should wait until someone comes and pushes you. What you wouldn’t give for a shade of color seems distant and irresponsible now. There are no more cigarettes left for unconvincing comfort. There are no more wretched people lingering softly near your shoulders, playfully asking you to come and join them. With nothing to offer but yourself and perfectly timed remarks to seem intellectual and caught up in this stupid and sick knot of lies. Choking on your breath you cough and cough until the idea of disappearing is being darkened and outlined in your head. Unlike the high-strung kids with too much things to say you don’t have tears to blink back or close enough friends to confess these secluded lies too. You only have headaches and instable answers to offer yourself and the lady at the bus station. You're staring outside your own eyes, trying to see out into the cloudy sky, but all you can see is your own face. Your tarnished flesh and haggard hair. There is this coffee station down the block. There is an advertisement posted there. Last year it was for two things: the new band and pregnancy tests. The advertisement has changed. Now it says "take your mind off your weight." We say we're getting better, but we know who we really are. Nothing ever works out in the way your ego plans. Is this something to be grateful for? There are always these people, being canny and great at the same time. There isn’t enough love to pass around, there isn’t enough lies to keep repeating. These highs and lows will only make you say ‘life should never feel this good. You haven’t regretted getting out of bed this much since yesterday and the day before and the day before and the day before. And you think, you’re searching through these incredible letters, these incredible speeches trying to desperately find out who you were, and who you are and who she was and how we all got along fine with each other. But you can still plainly say that if this step wasn’t taken you can enjoy walking to the ocean and lying low in your own skin feeling the wind whip against your eyes, your hair and your cold cold face. So you breathe in and lay down on the cement thinking, the sky is too blue for its own good. |
Submission Name: If you're feeling sinister
