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Maybe you’re the one who tries to count the snowflakes as they fall, laughing when white flurries hit your cheeks.You love running down the powder-dusted hills, but hate leaving footprints in your wake, because you cannot stand to look back and see that you destroyed something so beautiful. (Again.) Maybe you’re the one who finds your best friend on his bed in a shivering mess, clutching his chest like his heart is about to fall out. You watch as silver teardrops cling to his eyelashes, and think back to the time that you kissed his eyelids while he slept and saw how beautiful he looked even though you weren’t supposed to think so. Maybe you’re the one who only eats the purple candies because they’re the prettiest, even though they taste like cough medicine. You eat the red ones, too, but they taste like him, like cherries and sweet and whispers, and you decide that maybe you like the taste of cough medicine. Maybe you’re the one who pretends to have it all, but inside, your ribs are broken and your lungs are punctured and your heart may as well be shredded into ribbons. You don’t want to, but when he says ‘baby, you can’t say no to me’, you just sigh and your chest heaves and you say ‘I know.’ Maybe you’re the one who drives only to hear the music pulsing and blaring from the stereos of the cars around you. You try to match your radio to theirs, but when you can’t, you surrender and try to drown out their music with your own. In the end, though, all you can hear is the clashclashclash of the two rhythms, and it secretly makes your stomach hurt. Maybe you thought it was okay, but one day you wake up and notice that the paint is peeling off of your ceiling and that your bedroom is fucking freezing even though it’s the middle of July and that the walls really do lack any sort of decoration. You think for a little while, and maybe it's a metaphor for your life. Falling apart and cold and empty. Maybe you're the one who promises you won't lie to yourself anymore, but you know that’s a lie in itself.... |
