These are just words I wrote. Sometimes we have feelings that we cannot say, that we cannot touch. Perhaps words will bring us the rest unspoken words cannot bring.


1. Movements

*These are just some things, feelings. Maybe someone else can find their words, or description of feelings*


The tiredness, the uneasy feeling within my bones, the ache in my body. What was it? What was the shadow that contained fear, exhaustion, confusion, tears, and hatred all in one body. What was it? Some intangible, unexplainable mood that took many prisoners, never let them go. The mood that squeezed me enough to let me breathe but tight enough that I felt that I had died, and was just a soul walking through town. The soul just walked on, just did everything it needed to keep the world thinking it was there. Just enough so the world wouldn’t forget about it. The soul, who asked, “Is this the best it gets?” The soul, who would feel the squeeze of the heart when literal aches took over the body. That night, in the hotel room. The soul sat, trying to figure out what this intangible sadness, this intangible sensation of being dead was. The soul that felt it had died, left its life, its old body. This was the end of the earth. Early that day on vacation, it had thought those words. It looked at the grey ocean, the endless stretch of water. The infinite grey clouds, that symbolized its mood as well. This is it, this is the end of the earth. What did that mean? That the soul saw how infinite oceans were, how the waves clashed. How even on a trip far away, the soul still contained the hidden darkness. The soul was being suffocated by the weight of the intangible monster within. That night, the soul’s father wanted to eat out at a restaurant. Soul felt sick sitting at the table, watching as life went on, and the soul had felt dead. The soul watched, as the car drove through the trees, its headlights the only thing protecting it. As the grey trees seemed to loom, why was everything so grey? As it sat, at that restaurant, it did not want to sit in. As it felt sickness loom throughout the day. Was it the monster within, the one with the clouds. As they made a stop for snacks. The soul saw the world, it saw it turn, it was aware it was turning. Why was it not moving? Why was the soul's body chained? Why did it know there were an infinite number of things it could do to get out of the fog, yet the fog chained it? That night, in that hotel room. When everyone was ready to sleep, and the soul was not. That night, that first night the soul knew there was a monster within. It did not deserve a name, but if it was given a name, the soul would call it darkness. When the soul lay in those sheets, eyes not wanting to close. As the soul's body fought the weight of the invisible shadow. The lump that forecasted tears surfaced in the soul's throat, through the eyes that started to burn. The soul felt this was the most crushing moment. This was the moment that the monster, darkness, set it. This was the moment the soul felt darkness enter. The moment darkness started to suffocate the soul. Darkness all around, darkness swallowing the soul in so many different forms. The next morning, a heaviness. The clouds still in the sky. The breakfast the soul received, it barely chewed through, it almost cried at. The tears that the soul let fall in the car, the nose that it shoved into multiple tissues. The sheer exhaustion the soul's legs felt, its heart, its body. The punches darkness just kept throwing at it. The thought, “this is my vacation, and darkness took it away.” The soul that had felt dead wouldn’t know, that darkness would stay for many more months. Make the soul question. The thoughts that demanded to be felt, but served no purpose. The sky, one big infinite stretch, just like the car’s headlights. The darkness, a bigger shadow than all of infinity. Contained in one soul, one body.

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