Mitch sits on the porch steps. He see his daughter near the tire swing. She spins and spins and spins, her tight blonde curls flying around her as the late evening breeze weaves its fingers through her hair. He thinks of how much she looks like an angel. The force of her delightful twirling sends her tumbling back into the soft grass beneath her. Mitch looks to his wife resting her head on his shoulder as she sleeps and smiles. This is their life and it is good.
I can taste the tingle on my tongue the second it touches. I can smell the sweet/sour, crisp, smell. The food is amazing here. They have things I have never seen before. All of the yellows, oranges, blues and reds. The rainbow of food. The tastes of everything is new and refreshing. None of it makes sense. How can a place like this, make such beautiful flavors? The new discoveries of flavors and smells fills my mind. What new things can they even make? Find? The question lingers in my mind.
He sighed. It was an all-too-frequent result. Women never noticed him (here he paused to chastise himself for thinking that without providing any statistical evidence, and to suggest to himself that perhaps he had an availability bias), and he was lonely.
Why shouldn't he be able to give and receive love, like every other member of the human race (here, he noted that it was unethical to assume that any individual deserves the respect or love of another without earning it, and that he should avoid thinking of a romantic partner as an object that one acquires)?
It just wasn't...
Light.
It had been a while since I've seen it. Not the kind of light that you switch on or off when you walk into a room, but the light that switches on when you hit the bottom. The light that you were missing while you were walking blindly around that led you to fall.
I know many times before I could have just switch it on, but I'm stubborn. I couldn't let go of my pride and admit I could not see and that I was wrong.
Arrogant.
But the Lord is patient. He knows me very well, heck,...
Once upon a time I thought that I was a bird flying through the sky.
And then I realised that I'd just dreamt it. But once I realised that I was able to control my dreams, I decided to fly whenever it occurred to me that I was asleep. I would fly over my Grandma's house, I would start running as fast as I could and my arms would reach out beside me and I would just run up and up and up and there I was, able to fly anywhere. Able to see above all that was happening and...
since the days have past, a girl of a young of her time has to run away as if she ever knew what was going on. She had always had a taste for running away from others yet she didn't know what to come, after a few years the girl came when i said her name but she would always want to be alone by herself in a dark cold room of the night. After a day or so had passed she began to come when she was told even tho she didn't know why, she thought that she had...
To push a button. Such a simple thing. But where would it take me?
Down.
But what will be waiting for me there? Is it a place I want to go?
I thought I had hit rock bottom, but when there seemed no lower place to go, the answer is this elevator.
Down
But maybe Down is Up. The raised letters under my fingers promised escape and newness. In a life where everything is the same and without hope, any change can be good, right? Hope as a byproduct of fear.
Nothing to lose.
Down.
She remained there, trying not to be washed away by the torrent that unfolded minutes beforehand. It was a terrible scene, yet pleasant; watching the rain soothed the fire stoked within herself.
Did she wish to begrudge another man? Did she want to carry another grudge? Did she care to add another misery to her life?
It was the same old lie it always was.
"The day after tomorrow, this will all be over."
Of course it would. And tomorrow morning, someone would say it again. And the day after that. And the day after that.
Tomorrow may never come, but the day after tomorrow? Not a chance. Not a glimmer of hope.
The days all ran together anyway, here - there was nothing that set any one day apart from another. The air would be thick with tension, the trench would be cold, somebody would get injured, another would die. It was the same every...
The pistol was cocked, ready to go. I was going to show him. I was angry, no, furious. He cut me off! In this city, that's somehting you just don't do. In my neck of the woods, driving like that could mean you migght be at the end of the line. I thought anout it, I mean really thought about it. Did I want to do this? My life would change forever, and so would other people impacted from the results of my actions. I decided to uncock my pistol, put it back in the glove box, and keep driving....