𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐀 𝐌𝐄! ༊*·˚

[vi‎ ‎]

someday i will walk
where the sky is blue and purple, and the sun still shines
hugging the horizon
the wind will take me
finding its way through the seams of my jacket
entangling my hair
chattering my teeth
i will let it
when i close my eyes
maybe i will be out at sea
the groan of the ship
trying to steady my feet
can't you hear the waves?

[vi‎ ‎]

sometimes it takes my breath and i feel as though something
inside me stops the air in my throat
grabbing me by the neck
fingers tapping restlessly, eyes searching, wondering what the time is
where am i?
everywhere at once
and yet the room is quiet
i am still here
the house is still, sometimes the floorboards shift
the whisper of air, in and out
the mugs sit on the counter
the pillow lays on the bed
i breathe again

[vi‎ ‎]

it's okay
just let me down soon
i won't be able to hold on
much longer
anyway

do you ever wonder how
when people have nothing
to say
they say something so plain?
like -- "it's so cold."
or
"i'm so tired."
i used to hate that
now i don't mind
it's kind of like, wanting
to say something but not
really being sure
it's desperate, don't you think?
there's nothing wrong with it
well
you can let me
go
now
thank you for not letting me
melt

isn't it cold?

[vi‎ ‎]

outside the sky is gray. the trees shiver in the wind. my hair is sprawled out on the blanket and i can’t move.

the rain is starting to hit the window panes now. i think of a call i made. i think of saying “goodbye” and “thank you” more than once in the same conversation.

i think going outside does that. wakes me up in more ways than one. i wish i could sleep all the time. or i wish i could just stay in my room. it feels like a blanket is draped over me, and everything is softer than it actually is. translucent. leaving home feels raw. like responsibility. like maybe you should make a schedule. like you should go outside.

when i was seven, i wanted to learn how to swim. a girl at camp pushed me into the lake and i couldn’t breathe.

the rain is so loud. am i drowning? are we really here? did you find that funny? tell me more about her. please call me again. i hope you’re doing well, i really, really do.

[vi‎ ‎]

the fox lay on the grass, its black eyes locked on the moon. i just keep thinking that with each passing day that i am gone, the trees and the flowers and the stars will forget me, it said.

why don't you go back then? and see for yourself how the flowers remember your touch and the stars shine on your fur just like they always did and how the trees sing that song they always do when the wind blows, the moon replied.

the fox pondered for a moment, listening to the sound of the breeze and the long, steady hoot of the owl in the woods. but the forest is so lonely, moon. how will i know it is right for me to stay? though there may be other foxes and squirrels and birds, i cannot help but feel like everything around me is quiet. it lowered its gaze, shook its tail slowly, and waited for a reply.

the moon was silent. loneliness came in more ways than one.

[vi‎ ‎]

EACH PASSING DAY IS SLOWLY LOOPING INTO THE LAST read the beaten up TV. tempest pushed his floppy rabbit ears out of the way of his eyes and munched on his measly bowl of carrots.

he sighed. the same as always. had it not been for the foreboding feeling that rested in his stomach throughout the day, tempest would have never put this much thought into anything. especially not meaningless gibberish that shows up on TV screens at god knows what time in the morning.

like his body was slowly sinking into the water, like the plummet couldn't be stopped, like it was almost fate. the feeling that things would soon drain him and his daily chores would not just become daily chores but something even more dreadful.

the text was slowly being typed again.

EACH PASSING DAY IS SLOWLY I

tempest shut the TV off. "utter your nonsense to someone else," contempt laced his words. "i have things to do."

[vi‎ ‎]

x

[vi‎ ‎]

and in two seconds i realize just how hard it is to pretend to be whole. stopping myself from messaging people knowing i am probably bothering them, acting like i have things to do without people, trying to be so aloof and in the air so that i may not feel the fall. can loneliness feed a person? can it make me whole and full and healthy so that i won't have to beg for someone to speak to me? to hate myself for wanting someone to care about me as much as i care for them? like drawing a line somewhere so i won't get hurt, like "how much is too much? oh that's definitely it", like not even wanting to take the step and land somewhere. like sitting at a cliff and staring off the edge, too afraid to reach out.

[vi‎ ‎]

x

[vi‎ ‎]

i feel like our friendship is a ball of yarn that is wearing thin. it's like i can almost pick it up in my hands and see that the color is fading. if i pluck it like a guitar string it might just give out and break. i'm not ready for you to leave yet. please just one more day, one more hour, one more minute. please stay.