Safety Wall

She reached out to touch, smooth, cold. Leaning back she breathed. Her safety, where she could see all. No one could come up behind her. Everything covered with her peripheral. Then it all went dark when she closed her eyes. Still so much noise. All the talking, movement, life going on. She could black out the sights, but the sounds remained to assault her ears. Eyes open again, moving from person to person, from tree to bench. Leaned against the wall, she was none the less a part of the scene. Regardless if anyone else noticed, regardless of her wills.

Drifted

She sat as things rolled by her. Lost in her own world. She saw the cars pass, she saw the people out the window. She heard the faint rumble of the conversation behind her. The details of the faces, the color of the cars, the words that were spoken, none of that registered to her. Her mind was too removed from typical thought right now to notice such things. She tilted her head to look up at the sky. Blue, interrupted by streaks of hazy clouds. Her mind drifted toward them. She blinked her eyes a moment just to breath.

Gravity

He sat above the rest, looking down. Wondering if anyone else was aware of the perspective a place like this gave. Everyone was so small, so insignificant. His feet hung over, swinging lightly. A sharp breeze stung his face, he did not shiver. He had no more sense of feeling cold or warm. His body had gone numb to the elements. As his mind went numb to the world. Looking at a penny he pondered gravity. He decided to test out those old laws. Held the penny out, stood, and let go. He and the penny racing to the ground.

Survival

She turned and looked away. No longer willing to look. To see as the world fell around her. Closing her eyes, covering her ears. Just shut it all out and it might all fade away. The voices will not be silenced. They scream to her. Her hands pull from her ears in defeat, fingers tighten in fists. She opens her eyes and screams. If only she can drown out the other voices. If she doesn’t see them or hear them, she can pretend they don’t exist. If she can just stand a little longer, she might survive until the sunrise.

Questions?

What if you could go back and alter something in your life? Would you do it? Would you have any notion of what impacts it would have on everything else around you? In an attempt to change yourself, would you change your whole world? Would that world even remotely resemble the one you know? Or would it seem that anything about yourself would have so little an impact on the world around, that the changes would be so subtle as to barely notice? Can any of us really know what kind of an impact our presence has on the world?

Reality

Reality. It’s something we gotta live with. Like it or not, it’s how things go. How the world spins and fate unfolds. We can choose our actions, but not always the outcomes. We can choose our words, but not those of others. So much of reality out of our hands. Dependent on everyone around us to see how things will turn out. Some push the bounds of their reality, never content to let themselves be bound. While others sit back, just allowing reality to act on them, however begrudgingly accepting their own realities for what they are, good or bad.

Just a little Push

Pushed just a little higher, funny what they can do. Looking down and the giggle can’t be helped. Strange they are so amusing. Just a little confidence booster. A good mood achieved through the funniest of ways. A little extra bounce, a little extra exposure, and wondering if they have also attracted a little extra attention. Feeling a little bit bolder. Now this is a feeling that one could get used to. Six months to take that step, and will the bravery be there to make a second. Perhaps so, just look down and giggle again at the valley below.

Body

A body. We all live in one. And each is a little different than the next. Apparently variety is the spice of life. Yet we get these specific images that are held up as the most this or that. Most of which are completely unreachable for the normal person. I have issues with my body, however, do not muster the motivation to change it. Will I ever have my perfect body? I do not think my body will ever look how I would truly want it to, at least not naturally. So what is the answer? I don’t know yet.

Temporary Solution

Grab hold, to what, it doesn’t matter. Anything strong enough to hold me back from another slip further down. It doesn’t really matter if that landing leads down a tunnel of something else dark, at least I’m under my own will for a moment. So where does the path go? Sometimes out, sometimes a slow decent even further into darkness. Sometimes it simply leads back to the fall. But anything for a quick fix. Anything to get me away from myself. To get away from that part of my mind that takes pleasure in ripping another hole in my soul.

Suicide

How simple it would be. Sit down, and pull out the blade. A little cut here, little slice there. Feel the sting, but the pain will fade away. All that pain will just drain away with the blood. Everything will fade away. Warm and dark it drips. Watching the water turn pink and then red. The vision blurs and darkness begins to reach out its arms. Breath in and out one more time, till it all fades away. Just take the razor to the skin, cutting down along the vein. Somehow it would all just be so simple to end.

I'm Sorry

I’m sorry for all the things I am. I’m sorry for all the things I am not and likely will never be. I’m sorry for being something you never wanted in life. I’m sorry for the time I took of you. I’m sorry for all that I did. I’m sorry for all you did too. I’m sorry for never being able to be perfect. I’m sorry for the things that will probably never be said. I’m sorry it has all come down to casual, occasional pleasantries. I’m sorry that we will probably never be what I hoped we would be.

The Ride

It spins and turns and tosses you around. You reach for a handle to hold. When will it stop? It has to stop you tell yourself. Sometime it will have to stop, because that is just the way these things work. Finally it slows, you get your feet back on the ground. Looking back at the ride you try to think what made you get on it in the first place, and if you will again. But you will again, you always do. Again and again you take the ride. Each time you hope it will somehow turn out differently.

Warm

A chill goes through the body, curling up to stay warm. Finger tips like icicles. The whistle blows, the water has boiled. Out from under the blanket and into the kitchen. Make the tea, turn up the heater, back to the warm blanket. Cupping the mug, the hands warm. Steam rises to the face, pale flesh flushes. Lips to the mug, a long sip. Feeling the warmth slip down the throat to the belly. Slowly warming the core of the body. Lips warm, press together after another sip. The wonderful burn as the liquid marks its trail. Finally feeling warm.

Not that

Not that strong. Not that smart. Not that dumb. Not that normal. Not that unique. Not that pretty. Not that thin. Not that fat. Not that strange. Not that bad. Not that good. Not that wrong. Not that right. Not that lucky. Not that unlucky. Not that pessimistic. Not that hopeful. Not that crazy. Not that sane. Not that balanced. Not that nice. Not that cruel. Not that confident. Not that happy. Not that sad. Not that popular. Not that cool. Not that lame. Not that open. Not that closed. Not that little. Not that much. I’m not that girl.