She looks at them, hair softly patting her face as the wind carries it around, like birds on their wings to the warmer places.
They keep standing at a certain distance, not a cliff nor a mountain between them, nothing but a few, single steps that could close everything secret about the word ‘us’.
She looks at them, cheeks strained with tears and eyes red and puffy, but nothing leaves her lips for yet more moments.
Moments within they curl their hand over their chest, face pulled into a grimace as if someone had hit them square right in the chest. Moments within she fiddles with the bracelet they left upon her wrist, and old, unspoken promise about ‘forever’.
Moments they almost turn around and leave, the burden such a heavy thing that they almost flinch under the weight. Moments within she keeps standing, however, blank eyes trifling with the background and their presence, as if her heart couldn’t quite decide upon which future she will grab ahold of.
When her lips finally part, they smile;
,,I will survive you.”
There are days she feels numb. So numb, not even the soundless words upon her paper makes her feel anything; resulting in more feverish scratching, almost desperate to feel that pull the words make within her, an unsacred place she couldn’t withhold.
She closes her eyes, shuddering breaths leaving her body as she stills.
When she leaves the house, the birds are singing. A fitting description would be a setting sun, but that’s not what she sees. She sees the faint moon upon the skies, half hidden behind faded sun beams that warms her darkening skin. She sees empty streets filled with colors and green, summer soon arriving. Worrying her bottom lip shortly, she starts running.
She manages to lane a couple of kilometers before the sorrow truly hits her.
,,Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please-“
She smiles as the next message beeps in from Cody, spoiling yet another huge twist in the book she just recently brought. He’s active on the phone, she retorts, ignoring the previous message he sent.
‘Because there’s nothing to do on this job.’
‘I do! But it still gets kinda boring, ya’know?’
She sighs, shaking her head as she plumbs down on her bed, hair dripping after the cold shower she just took, and then starts typing.
The thoughts about being unfit and wrong and breathless are drifting away from her.
But it doesn’t settle her.
It scares her. She doesn’t want to let go of those thoughts – not because she determined for her to feel miserable and nothing and terrible and horrible and all bad put together; but because leaving those thoughts untouched…
Would just leave them open to touch her whenever she expects them the least. When she’s most oblivious, when she finally forgets those moments of torment and darkness, they will come back. Merciless and screaming, turning her into a broken mess, and it scares her even more to know-