(no subject)
I put on this burgundy jacket that my mom had gave me for Christmas. My head was throbbing with pain and my throat felt like a boulder from Indiana Jones was trying to roll down it, but got stuck. I was pacing around my house like a crackhead on Hollywood Boulevard. My hands were shaking as I reached for the cold knob of the backdoor. I twisted it abruptly and swung the door back as if I were in a saloon, and entered my backyard. The weather was okay, not too cold. It was dark gray everywhere. The neighbors were whispering inbetween the leaves of their bougainvillea fence. I cupped my hand over my mouth and started to cry. I looked up, but the clouds wouldn't let me see the stars, the same way as my hand wouldn't let my cries resonate. As I twirled around the yard turned to pitch black, and pink and red roses were floating around haphazardly. An opera in Italian was playing, getting louder and louder. The pink and red roses turned into women's dresses and women started to fill them and dance. My backyard turned into one of my dreams I had a very long time ago. I've never felt so sad in my entire life.