Sunday, 29 July 2012

The Silence

So every Sunday evening I'm going to post something I've written. This is an old one, but next week I'll post a more recent one. This is one of my favourites so I decided to post it here. Here it is, enjoy:

Silence. There’s nothing but silence screaming in my ears. The sky shatters into glass pieces around my bare feet, keeping me trapped in my own personal hell. I squeeze my eyes together, and hug my legs, not caring about the wet grass I’m sitting on. My chest keeps aching, as if it was ripped open for enjoyment. Sporadic thoughts shriek in my head, but nothing makes sense anymore.
I can’t remember the last time anything made sense.
You break through the ringing in my ears, ask me if I’m coming with you, and when I finally open my eyes it’s as if the chains you bound me with have loosened, tempting me to escape. I breathe. I breathe again. It keeps getting easier.
“I’m going.” With that I grab my bag and run with all the energy that is possibly in me. The fury in my veins pushes me forwards as I rush past the trees, the grass, and the people out by the lake. The familiar, everyday surroundings are nothing to me now, merely smears of colour as I turn another corner. A hand grasps at my wrist and I barely hear the words, “are you okay?” as I shake them off. I need to escape.
And then I’m there; my unknown destination. The place you won’t know to look for me, the place I didn’t realise I was headed to. My old dance studio. I drop my stuff and walk up the stairs, into the deserted room. The place is empty, but it’s my old haven. The old scents come back to me, and memories dance around me. These are memories of before I knew you, before you existed in my world. The sound of ancient laughter, music and oblivious immaturity echoes around the room.
I stand for a minute, searching for something. Searching for the comfort this place used to bring me, but it’s long gone. Gone with the old friends, locked in that box of memories along with my old self. I feel like a rock is stuck in my throat as I back out of there. I never realised how much could change in just a couple of years. Or how much I would miss what I had left behind.
Now I head back home. My footsteps are slow, pondering. The trees and houses define themselves, the blur of bodies become people, and I regain my sanity. The path is straightforward; my home is within sight. I can almost feel my blankets wrapped around me and the sleep I desperately crave falling upon me. I sigh as I turn the corner to my front door. And then I see you. You’re sitting on my front steps, waiting. Waiting for me?
You’ve heard my footsteps and you look up, hurt flashing in your eyes. You get up and make your way towards me, reaching for my hand. I try to get around you, to finish the journey that you began for me, but your tight grip on my arm holds me back.
Tears are forming in my eyes, and the end seems to drift away, but I’m not letting it go. Not this time, you can’t keep doing this to me. I pull away from you again and again, but you’re too strong. I want to leave. I don’t want to be here. Let me go. Let me go.

All it takes is one word, the simple murmur of my name, and I’ve forgotten it all. Again. I turn and look at you, your grey eyes taking mine for a journey of their own as you wrap your arms around me.
Silence, once again, here in your arms. But this time, it’s as if it’s whispering sweet nothings to me, and now I’ve found what I had lost in my forgotten haven.
But is it enough? The shadow of doubt creeps over me, engulfing me in its truth.
I hear familiar words falling from your lips, “Forgive me?”
I pull myself away to look into your eyes, but what I used to feel has disappeared with my journey. My heart doesn’t race, no smile falls on my lips, and the urge to make you happy disintegrates. The monotonous, parasitic cycle of what we were has finally hit me.
Your arms fall limp at your side and I walk away alone, never looking back, moving forward, into a new journey.


So I've never really thought having a blog made any sense. Really, to me, it's like keeping a diary, and I was terrible at those. I could just never get the hang of writing to myself. But I figured, hey, I spend so much time talking to myself I might as well keep a blog. So I decided instead of just documenting random thoughts, I will write about things I'm reading, or I will actually post things I'm writing. Not that I expect anyone to read this, but hello if you are! I'm going to start off by posting some old stories just for kicks.
More later,
A girl who writes.