I'm in a strange mood and needed to write. This isn't funny, or meaningful, or particularly logical. It's just an outpouring of words. Thought vomit. Sorry. Deal with it.
x
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Her heart is in her throat, a sick feeling in her stomach. She knows it isn't right, but she tries anyway. She knows it's all destined to doom, but she can't help but hope that maybe this time, this time, it'll all be different. That maybe for once, it'll all work out and she'll actually succeed. She can't believe she's being so stupid, but she knows that the short burst of happiness will be worth it, even if only for that tiny glimpse in time. Her chest aches with pain; the very thought of it kills her inside. But she keeps going. She'll risk the self destruction, just to feel something again. She's desperate for it.
She smiles at nothing. Her light blonde hair tangles around her face as the treacherous wind whistles by. She ducks her head in embarrassment, her awkwardness showing through as she remembers that this is real life, not some cheesy Hollywood plot. Her laptop bag is heavy on her shoulders as she walks past. She steps carefully, in case her feet slip and she trips again. She always trips over her shoes. He watches, a half smile on his face, but she's too shy to make proper eye contact. So she converses with the ground instead.
She smiles at the world, the blandest of expressions plastered on her face. She's always civil to those who pester her day and night. She's just another normal, ordinary, sweet girl. Not the brightest, though more self aware than most. But through her head whispers the notes of rage, and in her laughing eyes is murderous intent. Beneath the surface simmers a molten pool of hatred; years of suppressed resentment and bitterness. She keeps it all quietly inside, burning with shame at the state of those around her. She wants more than this. She wants to be better. But she knows it's impossible...and so she despairs.
She sits on the train, avoiding eye contact. The scenes fly by like the world is in a perpetual time-lapse. But inside, everything is quiet and still. People moving in slow motion, eyes closed or fixed on their papers and screens. She breathes quietly, afraid to disturb the frowning man beside her. She is just another zombified commuter. But she wants to dance. The music trips through her ears, the drums gently tapping her into a ridiculous mood. She wants to move to the rhythm, and as she struggles, every little noise becomes music. But outwardly, she is still.
Her heads bops gently and her back can't help but follow. Her feet tap in time to the beat and a smile swims vaguely across her face. The typing is in time to the cow bells. The guitar is like the neurons firing off in her brain. She wants to sing, to get up and sing like no tomorrow. But she stays at her desk. The class carries on silently around her, and she restrains herself. As always.
This is her, in every way. She does everything she's supposed to, and nothing she wants to. She'll let herself do the stupid things, but everything else...she cannot even bring herself to attempt. She is you, and she is me. She is everything society has made us. She is pretty on the outside and so very ugly on the inside. Do you love her? I don't.
Self destruction is easy. But can you be better? Can you escape what she is? Can you build something beautiful?
Try.
