Tables Turn

Sometimes I wonder, if I hadn’t said anything, would anybody know my pain? Or would they dismiss that constant expression on my face as my regular expression, taking comfort in the fact that they deemed everything to be alright?

What if I had never spoken at all? Would I be consumed by my past, looking for closure in thinking that if I had spoken things may have changed? Maybe I would have eaten myself alive and crumbled at every minor obstacle that thus far I’ve somehow completed.

My confidence may not be so high and my burning desire to progress and provide for myself could possibly be non-existent. My attitude towards other’s attitudes towards me may be different, causing me to collapse at every unkind word spoken against me.

Either way, I suppose I can look back and believe I did all I could in a situation out of my control, to try and help myself. Though now it’s different. I will do all I can to help myself, in a situation that’s in my control.

Oh how the tables turn.

Dark Road

The crisp air, though bitingly cold, somehow refreshes my cloudy mind. I’m walking along this unknown road in the still of the night, blanketed by darkness. The only light I see is the red, amber and green from the traffic lights; carried hazily by the fog.

Much like life, I wonder where I’m going and where this road will take me. Although unlike life, I have no fear where my final destination will be. Unlike life, I know the sun will eventually shine and brightness will lead the way.

Sword

My wounds had already been reopened but this cut felt different. This one went deeper than the rest. And that’s saying something from the girl who survived an axe attack.

I was unprepared for the samurai sword coming at me; the platinum-diamond-carbon hardened blade racing towards my heart. Through my back it entered and pierced my delicate heart, shattering it into millions. To pick up the pieces would be near impossible, though that was the least of my problems.

Rather than immediately remove this weapon from my weakened body, I let the poison resonate. Contaminate my blood flow. And when I did finally draw it from my heart, black blood bled slowly yet surely. But it was too late now.

The venom was being pumped through my veins.

Wolf

Chills ran down my spine. Then I felt numb.

For the past half hour I had cried like never before. Cried enough tears to eradicate an entire famine. Howled like a wolf in the moonlight.

Although unlike the wolf in the moonlight, I was terribly afraid of the world. I felt more like the wolf in sunlight; out of my natural environment due to the presence of the sun, even though I was perched in the same spot that the moon shines down on.

My usual mysterious silhouette was now under the spotlight and it was as if my every flaw and weakness was displayed for the world to see. At that moment a spec of dust could have broken me. Torn me apart and ripped me to shreds. Exposed my vulnerability for all to see and pick at.

If only I could be more like a cat. Much smaller than the wolf yet so confident, sleek and sassy. Unconcerned with how the world perceives her. Unafraid of the many pitfalls and traps set up within the concrete jungle, ready to eat you up and swallow you alive. Such a fearless little creature.

Perhaps one day I could be just like that. Again.

We Both Know

Having met you only for a few minutes, I recognise. I see the pain in your eyes. I feel your battered soul ooze out of your body via the tears that fall from your face and reach for mine. No words have to be spoken in this heart-wrenching moment. We both know.

I Love Writing.

Having contemplated the nine minute drive home in the eeriest fog I’d ever witnessed other than on an episode of Scooby Doo, I had a thought. Not out of the norm, I brainstormed possible ideas for a story featuring that drive home as the setting.

Then it came to me.

Damn I love writing.

Anxiety

Paralysing my mind and body like an illness, this fear takes over me. My brain floods with worried thoughts; in turn causing my heart rate to increase in a similar manner to my temperature. My palms start to sweat and my mood declines. Tears are ready to fill my eyes over this matter at hand which may or may not even happen. All I can do is wait in despair for any definite sign that will relieve me of this debilitating illness.

Concrete Jungle

“Concrete jungle where dreams are made of, there’s nothing you can’t do…”

Who do I speak to about changing my life, please? I’ve definitely got the right place. There’s no mistaking a concrete jungle. Especially not this concrete jungle. The dreams are in the bag on my back. Now, tell me about the part where there’s nothing I can’t do.

I don’t mind waiting, either.

Houses

Radiating in the early Summer sunshine, surrounded by the greenest grass and hanging baskets containing various splashes of colour, those beautiful houses stood. Somewhat hidden from the busy road by lazy willow trees, they were the epitome of beauty. They were peaceful and quiet, despite the noise from nearby traffic. It was almost as if they were in their own little bubble that could not possibly exist in this area.

There was something magically enchanting about these sleepy houses. Not a single soul had ever been spotted leaving or entering via the paved pathway that lead directly from the road. The windows were never opened and the usual sounds of living could never be heard from these places of dwelling. Despite the serene solitude of these small buildings, it always felt as if somebody was watching.

Were they behind the curtain that caused not even the slightest stir? Did they watch on from the upstairs window, absorbing every little thing that occurred? Were they even there at all? Nobody ever knew.

Water

Parched. It was like I had swallowed a thousand deserts. Not even the cacti could dig deep enough to find a viable source to quench their thirst.

The sun was blazing down and the heat was prickly. I longed for water to hydrate my dry throat. I longed for the sweet taste that H20 provides when one is beyond thirsty. A single sip would only tease my dehydrated throat and I would not be able to bear it. It would definitely leave me in a worse state than now.I craved the cold liquid in my mouth, hydrating my dried tongue and pleasantly watering the humid desert that was my throat.

I lusted for the beautiful feeling of satisfaction I would get once the pure aqua was swallowed once and for all.