(no subject)
I sit hunched against the wall of my home, one leg pulled close to my chest; the other wrapped around the ankle. I curl my fingers through my hair, slowly pulling it out by the handful. There’s a woman shopping for school supplies, shallow and without purpose. Peter Nicols contemplates whether he should leave Amanda Bishop alone this year -he loves to tease her- but then he does remember the black eye she gave him last term.
I hit my head repeatedly against the wall and before I know it my feet have brought me to a stand and I walk somewhat hesitantly -but purposely- to the front door, knocking over a potted plant along the way. I need to see-
“She wonders where the light has gone. No, no room for others. You must choose-” Focus. He has to leave this room, find his girl, needs know. Hear. See. Feel her in his arms.
And yet if I leave this room, I know it will become harder for me. Harder to keep them out. Harder to find her. Harder to tell her what I’ve been meaning to tell her for weeks. That I’ve been drifting away from her, as if a kite set lose by its owner on an unknown course. Drifting lost. Gone into the wind.
He doesn’t know who he is. He thinks he’s you sometimes, but knows he can’t be. Doesn’t have the necessary parts. He was lost, lost in the woods. How he got there he doesn't remember. He remembers cells. Being inside padded walls. A cabin in the woods, but not knowing how he got there. Safe there, away from people. Away from civilization.
I turn the handle, pull the door back with great force and immediately crouch down and look up at the night sky before breaking at a run, using my hands to support me along the way.
He has to help the girl.
I hit my head repeatedly against the wall and before I know it my feet have brought me to a stand and I walk somewhat hesitantly -but purposely- to the front door, knocking over a potted plant along the way. I need to see-
“She wonders where the light has gone. No, no room for others. You must choose-” Focus. He has to leave this room, find his girl, needs know. Hear. See. Feel her in his arms.
And yet if I leave this room, I know it will become harder for me. Harder to keep them out. Harder to find her. Harder to tell her what I’ve been meaning to tell her for weeks. That I’ve been drifting away from her, as if a kite set lose by its owner on an unknown course. Drifting lost. Gone into the wind.
He doesn’t know who he is. He thinks he’s you sometimes, but knows he can’t be. Doesn’t have the necessary parts. He was lost, lost in the woods. How he got there he doesn't remember. He remembers cells. Being inside padded walls. A cabin in the woods, but not knowing how he got there. Safe there, away from people. Away from civilization.
I turn the handle, pull the door back with great force and immediately crouch down and look up at the night sky before breaking at a run, using my hands to support me along the way.
He has to help the girl.