She hid her edges and the rough corners of her mind from him. Even if he was broken, so familiar with the feeling - she felt as if she was sinning from hiding something he understood.

His eyes flickered from one place to another. Always. His endless dark eyes (brown in the light, but grows dark when he’s forgotten what here felt like) His touch of words so soft in the air that he would be able to stand near a frightened deer, and whisper in it’s ear. You would have loved the sound, it would caress the crevices of your mind, the corners of your lips, the goosebumps on your arms -

She shook her head.

His tall form was always hunched, (there’s a hole inside of his chest and the edges are slowly deteriorating and love is caged in the place of his heart and his mind has been crushed into pieces - It’s been dark in here far too long) and you wonder what has made him seem so fragile there and then, what has locked him in place by invisible hands around his lungs and scorching words that burned what used to be there (don’t worry, he’s not empty yet.)

His past has taken away the courage from his shinobi uniform and the strength from the back of his tongue dissolved into nothingness. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry, he says over and over and it becomes a broken record in the background. 

How to smooth over the frown lines and the heal his chapped lips, oh - how she wished she could offer more than what her small hands can reach for because they always seem to stop. Not in the beginning or the end. Somewhere along the lines ofI’ll try and I can’t.

One day, he won’t need to worry about the poison ivy and thorns in his pathway. One day, he will be able to breathe despite the blisters and bruises. One day, she will give her corners and edges because healing makes things sweeter and real.

Don’t worry, she said. I won’t let go.

Spending some time in the cold.

I could tell a story from my very first bedroom window. It was time, quietness and a gentle presence from the air and the wind pressing against the cool glass. Everything was mine and I loved it.

Anywhere but here

 I dreamt of soft pink skies and luscious green grass clenched under my bare toes, the sweet lullaby of the ocean waves. Smells of salt and daisies and honeysuckle trees waft through my undone hair and over my senses. But then there were dreams of fast cars, heels, breathless smiles and a life outside a rock.

You live your life through fantasies and distractions because it’s so much better than taking note of your surroundings and the people around you. Don’t get me started on the incessant nagging and “You need to get better marks” or “Lets lose some weight okay” and you just want to run away, run away from the green eyes of envy and the family you don’t have.

I was able to walk with legs and arms bare, my steps were never hesitant and my thoughts were never about my appearance or what was right. It was on how the sunlight warmed my skin, or how beautiful the mountains looked. There were no “black and white” views on life and religion. There were so many It’s okay’s and you don’t have to be afraid.

Your feelings contradict your mind because your room feels like your own personal cage but it’s sickly comforting to spend your nights in. You don’t know how to get away from it but the loneliness it offers fills you in a good way because it’s so bad.

I’m so free in a city of high buildings and busy roads. The freedom to drive a car during sunset on my own, but mostly filled with the laughter of my best friends. I will take the longer routes because I have money to spend on gas and I enjoy making careless decisions. I will get home past 10 (past your driving curfew) but I take the scolding in stride because I’m wiser but also just a kid.

They talk so much about the future and about the decisions they like. You want to ask about getting nowhere in life and you want to know if it’s okay but of course you know it’s not okay so you don’t really ask any questions. You’re always skipping homework and you always think you will be able to finish it before class but you know you won’t.

I speak many languages and I eat spaghetti at the corner shop in Naples, walking over uneven stones.  The flavors that fill my mouth remind me of Nonna that had white hair and a half smile. People shouted from their apartment windows, and there would be music and dancing outside on the pavement. All friendly smiles and dancing just because it was something to do.

A dream is just a dream, no matter how much you believe in it. It’s a beautiful fantasy, but that’s it. It’s a place where you can escape for 5 minutes – or 7 hours. Besides, what would life be without suffering? Without a little suffering and pain, it just won’t be real. We need that pain to make it real. We need it to hold us down when we get over the top. In order to find ourselves, we need the pain and hardship to be who we truly are.

I missed this