"Oh, instincts are misleading - You shouldn't think what you're feeling ..."
Here is a story I wrote in two pieces I think like two years ago. To be honest, I've done better ... but it has special meaning to me that I don't think anyone understood when I wrote it. The first part was actually true - I know you're thinking "you really freaked out cause someone smiled at you" but yea I did - I was a pretty obsessive kid years ago ... I can tell you that much. Yet, somehow I can't help but admire myself and the things I went through. You know - I hope years from now I look on this time of my life and feel the same. It is a little long, but if you read like everything I ever posted in my "goodethoughts" lj username then you've read it before. Just wanted to post it because I don't want to forget it's importance and impact of my life.
It was raining but I looked up and faced the drops. I mixed them with my tears so no one would notice or ask and I would avoid their worries. I walked the path I walked everyday. I looked at the leaves and the walls they minded their own business and showed no concern. I wanted to just keep walking, but they car was close. I got in. Sat quiet and waited for the usual conversation between my brother and me each afternoon. It never came. Both to in the gloom to care about each other. I was glad but it later came and I lied and laid low and did not ask how things were back. Home - Room. Sitting on the bed thinking about everything. That smile - that grin. I know that grin he gets - I fell for it. I always fell for his suave being - his natural smoothness. I fell for his plotted seduction each time. He knew he was captivating to me. He knew that grin could get him anything he pleased. He knew it right? He planned it right? He was smart trying to play dumb right? He knew ... right? Maybe he just grinned outta kindness. Maybe he sensed my depression and wanted to ease it. Was that a smile or a grin? Short and sweet - spells out grin to me; spells out awareness of power to me. Go back outside and wish in the rain for a while. Rain feels so good on my face and neck. Cold and harsh but soft and kind - a bitter sweetness I never take time to enjoy. That grin or that smile it was like this rain. It was cold and harsh but felt soft and kind - a bitter sweetness I read wrong.
............ I sit some more and forget what I was thinking about or worried about and move on inside to dry off. Tears have stopped their useless streaming. It makes no sense to cry because hidden tears do nothing. I have no reason to be in pain at all - this pain I walked into. I jumped to the sword this time. Move on - get warm - stop thinking; you think to much. Warm and dry now I stare in the mirror. My features are so strange and foreign to me. My nose is round and plump my eyes are droopy and red. My hair is frizzed and wet. This face though, my face, god I hate looking at this face. It is to round and it is to fat - it's teeth are crooked, its lips are too big, and its eyes to dark. A smile looks worse than my frown when I try one on. I feel false so I take it off quick. I'm still staring and thinking up every little mark or imperfection on my face and putting myself down for it. Cursing this face that I can't bear to even see. I finally turn away and walk out into my room. What do I want? I want to sit - no sleep - no stand. I bounce from feet to chair to bed and finally pick the company of my beds blankets and my pillows grasp. I actually lay and stop thinking for awhile, but then I go back to remembering my face, my figure, my image that haunts me each time I pass a mirror or a window. Be happy little grown up girl - you'll be fine you little grown up girl. That's me I'm a little grown up girl - oxymoron if I've ever heard one. Well, a story has to end, but little grown up girls lack conclusion. This is a fading phase that has no end and no beginning.
It was raining but I looked up and faced the drops. I mixed them with my tears so no one would notice or ask and I would avoid their worries. I walked the path I walked everyday. I looked at the leaves and the walls they minded their own business and showed no concern. I wanted to just keep walking, but they car was close. I got in. Sat quiet and waited for the usual conversation between my brother and me each afternoon. It never came. Both to in the gloom to care about each other. I was glad but it later came and I lied and laid low and did not ask how things were back. Home - Room. Sitting on the bed thinking about everything. That smile - that grin. I know that grin he gets - I fell for it. I always fell for his suave being - his natural smoothness. I fell for his plotted seduction each time. He knew he was captivating to me. He knew that grin could get him anything he pleased. He knew it right? He planned it right? He was smart trying to play dumb right? He knew ... right? Maybe he just grinned outta kindness. Maybe he sensed my depression and wanted to ease it. Was that a smile or a grin? Short and sweet - spells out grin to me; spells out awareness of power to me. Go back outside and wish in the rain for a while. Rain feels so good on my face and neck. Cold and harsh but soft and kind - a bitter sweetness I never take time to enjoy. That grin or that smile it was like this rain. It was cold and harsh but felt soft and kind - a bitter sweetness I read wrong.
............ I sit some more and forget what I was thinking about or worried about and move on inside to dry off. Tears have stopped their useless streaming. It makes no sense to cry because hidden tears do nothing. I have no reason to be in pain at all - this pain I walked into. I jumped to the sword this time. Move on - get warm - stop thinking; you think to much. Warm and dry now I stare in the mirror. My features are so strange and foreign to me. My nose is round and plump my eyes are droopy and red. My hair is frizzed and wet. This face though, my face, god I hate looking at this face. It is to round and it is to fat - it's teeth are crooked, its lips are too big, and its eyes to dark. A smile looks worse than my frown when I try one on. I feel false so I take it off quick. I'm still staring and thinking up every little mark or imperfection on my face and putting myself down for it. Cursing this face that I can't bear to even see. I finally turn away and walk out into my room. What do I want? I want to sit - no sleep - no stand. I bounce from feet to chair to bed and finally pick the company of my beds blankets and my pillows grasp. I actually lay and stop thinking for awhile, but then I go back to remembering my face, my figure, my image that haunts me each time I pass a mirror or a window. Be happy little grown up girl - you'll be fine you little grown up girl. That's me I'm a little grown up girl - oxymoron if I've ever heard one. Well, a story has to end, but little grown up girls lack conclusion. This is a fading phase that has no end and no beginning.