What today holds, what tomorrow may bring
A short metaphorical story written by the QuirkyGirl staff
Just another morning, I suppose. One where you hop out of bed, that sacred place of rest and unrest where the night howls at you in your bleak monotone despair. Drool fills your pillow, clutched with fear because of what the real world and your own fantastic world show you. I shiver with disgust, at nothing more than how naughty of dreams have been dreamt, and what silly worries contanstly play in my brain. All is the same, as usual. The bleak prison seems it would be a happy place, but it's the same old prison. All documents destroyed or hidden in confidential areas, and all possessions of value hidden away. Like a bandit successfully stole all the important things out of my room. My life was stolen a few weeks ago, when I realized I actually don't know how old I am. What else is new though? I climb down the stairs,as usual, and scoff down breakfast, as usual. It is harder to breathe and move on when you are insecure and worried and have lost yourself.Turn the corner, crawl up the stairs clutching your heart....the usual routine. A rocking chair may slowly blow in the wind of your heavy breathing. Into a dark room,one that would be more inviting if you weren't so drained as to switch the light switch. But I am so drained, the darkness comforts me. It helps me pretend I didn't lose everything. Or at least not yet, I think. Into the bathroom where my clothes are thrown off, watching my weary self dress in slacks and a sweatshirt that do not look at all good, just feel right to the occasion. My hair is quickly splashed with gel. All is usual. Come bus time, and I am sitting with my green iPod nano watching Germany's Next Top Model, quietly laughing at Heidi Klum's voice and smirking at the beauty of Larissa, the 16 year old on the show. I remember some times. The bus ride stops at this building that I wish I could say was familiar, but to me it is not much more than a first time walking through. I stumble to find my way, my locker calling out in fury to hurry up. Futile and naive, I barely listen. Friends stand by and wait as friends so often do. Pain fills me at the thought of standing by and waiting. Putting life on hold must be painful... more so for him, I think. I practically die on the way to that classroom with the dreaded title of biology. What a pity wasting time talking about proximate and ulitimate causes. I have my own ultimate cause in life, and that is to be loved and to love with no obstacles facing our way. Sucks to my luck, though. I barely comprehend anything, just because this mind of mine just doesn't want to listen, doesn't want to see. I spy out a kid one friend says she likes. I take in account all his feautures, and quietly recite what I think in my head. His hair was my turn off. Other than that, beauty and the smile was large, but I couldn't help but wonder if it was as fake as mine. My real smile isn't this blasted big thing, it's a shy one, that curves slowly as color fills my cheeks. Only two people have ever seen me happy. You can also tell when my head is thrown back in bliss, laughter rolling onward with no end. Like thunder rolling on. The class ends and we are off to an assembly with that dreaded criteria and objective of facing the rules, the insane ones shabby adults who forgot who they were make up. I listen in disgust as consequence fills consequence. Life is hard enough, but rules make it more tedious. I do not mind following them, for a while. Until I break free, of course. Then off to math where I watch in amazement the theory of numbers. A quite fascinating trick to play with my mind. Through the halls, almost crying at the though of going through these halls without him, without him...without him. It repeats in my mind like I had just died, and now the last though has been "without him" and it will just repeat and repeat until judgment day. Something is definitely wrong with my confidence in myself. I look around at a crowd swarming with beautiful faces, any one body a body he could hold. I can envision each and every nightmare, but they honestly all seem so wrong and out of place. I think of my face, one of a complicated complexion, so pale and chipped it ruins to run a satin slash against it. Eyes of bland coloring burn with this intense water-filled cry, as if they can see right thtough the world and just want to escape. It's all the same, as my flab on my legs wiggles and giggles when I step. Self confidence is the most important thing, and I don't have it. I remember when I did, but now those times have faded, like my star. They were shattered, shot at with many a gun! Head down, as I squeeze my brain as if it were a sponge and get rid of all my worries to take a test. Decked out in lucky attire, all I need. And of course, confidence in that works. I think of him. What else do I do? I go on to lunch and bring about some more mischief and fun, always the adventure...moreover more American studies, and then some band. Where my skills fail me, but I am commended by the Beast of Trombone, who says not to worry, he was not as good to play that piece when he was a freshman either. What a genial man, very amiable I suppose. I play on, with pride in my mistakes. Then comes German, where the world fades in disappoitment as a kid aimlessly flirts with me, and I flirt back with constant unconciousness, because of course all I am thinking about is him, him and his lovely blue-gray eyes, the ones that stared at me once upon a time when I talked and said to me words that are lost and gone from him now. Words of how I am beautiful. I cringe, hug myself casually. A chill runs up my spine as I envision his arms around me in embrace, warmth suddenly difting over me, but never caught. Some kind of radical change in 'tude' as I sift away from this class, one of such a level of disappoitment all I can think is thoughts of unwise fatal problems. I get lost, in the midst of the halls. Literrally, I am gone. I see myself, the stumbling one in the band room, dropping a book, staring off into space and realize how unfocused I am. While I am lost, I find a way. I follow others like a sheep. I think like an owl. I know that I would be so much more found if something changed, but what? The forbiddeness would be nice, but that is so far-fetched. Maybe perhaps something quick and easy. A love note? Some kind of forbidden gift of thoughfulness? I never know anymore. Nothing besides him, and love. I know love like Ethan Frome doesn't. I am positive in my willingness and want. I want to be with him forever. The- day -we- die forever, as I said. Let me say that again :F-O-R-E-V-E-R. Do you understand, or are you going to stab me too? Pretty soon all the blood from my body will be leaked onto the floor. No one will be there to clean up the mess. It was all you Nay-sayers that stabbed me though, can't you see? When will the dawn come and when will you see what is happening to me? I'm in love, and I'd die for love. But what good is it when....when....when you're me. When you're me, I say, as I find the bus. When you're me.
We hope you enjoyed this fictional piece of writing written by our staff. More coming soon! =)
Keep smiling, even when days go bad, days will soon go good!