In a second everything was blurry. With a curse she ducked down, shielding her eyes as the sand beat down against her and ravaged the tent. It was intense enough to almost knock down her haven of pitched hide, but it was strong enough to hold as she crossed over inside of it and turned around to fasten the opening with the very strips of leather she’d dismissed last night.
His face was just a blur. A beautiful blur that was going more and more out of focus with each passing second. What I would give to caress his cheeks once more. To feel his golden locks. To be kissed by those soft strong lips like the world was going out once again.
It’s good to know that she wasn’t in a hurry to get glasses, because her head having been knocked on the wood of the table at the side of her head was starting to ache a bit. And she didn’t know if the pounding and the blurry sight was because of having no glasses and going on a movie marathon or if it was because of the accident.
Instead of doing the one thing I am supposed to be doing, what I was hired and paid a large sum of money to do, I am looking for the person who murdered my father. I can’t help it, it’s a sickness. What did they think would happen when I became a cop? That I would just let it go? They’re crazy and they’ll regret the day they told me to stop.
She didn’t know who the photo was supposed to be, but she liked the blurry edges of his chin, the hint of depth in the eyes, and she felt herself going blurry, defocussing. She was melting. She said, Who is this. There was no answer, but she hadn’t expected one.
what is blurry?
the memories of the past long dead, the recollection
that feeling of almost remembering a forgotten dream, a word you feel is just at the tip of yout ongue.
it all feels blurry, in a dreamy haze of nothingness
such are dreams and memories: unreliable.
Fading between the lines, moments passing, time in a hurry, seconds dancing, life is blurry
– – a strange, strange song that echoes inside your body, a song that has long-burrowed its way into your heart, an old friend that you have not seen for years with eyes that are as old as the stars themselves, burning with secrets.
The horizon at the end of any road will be blurry, not matter which direction you want to head in. It’s going to be confusing even if its one straight shot for miles on end, or at least as far as you can see before the haze takes your certainty of direction. But you should never let the fog take your faith in yourself.
The sunlight made everything blurry–or maybe it was the hangover. She shouldn’t have gone out last night with Greg. She was an agent now, expected to make critical, mature, intelligent decisions. Such as not getting wasted with a co-worker on a Tuesday night.
It had been, however, to celebrate her promotion. Stuffing her face back into the pillow, she burrowed her hands beneath it and pricked herself.
“Ouch,” she muttered, and withdrew the sharp item.
Her new badge. Silver and ornate, heavy and… hers. She was officially Agent Paulson, one of the Association. One of an elite group of werewolf-hunters. One of… the victims of the worst hangover she could ever remember.
Reality itself rippled before my eyes.
I lifted my hands to my face and wiped the remnants of sleep away from my eyes and the world came back into focus.
The mirror before me showed me as I am, not the blurry imagine I once was.
Have you ever noticed how blurry letters look through tear-filled eyes, when you aren’t ready to read that last sentence and your hands are trembling, but you still have to find the strength to text, “goid bue”… as your phone corrects a message to that number for the last time. “Good Bye.”
{7.21.14 —
Imani Hawkins
I sought out love in every aspect of life. I searched behind buildings, in the back alleys of tortured souls and in the end, still I only found myself… broken and searching. (I wrote this on the 21st before I had an account)}
Shit. I can’t see a damn thing. Everything is blurry, just like my life. I don’t have a clue where to go from here. The whole world looks blurry and out of focus. Shit.
If I don’t wear my glasses, words on the screen are blurry. Images are blurry. I don’t like seeing things blurry. It’s not pleasant. It’s annoying. It’s enough to make me want to go to the eye doctor and get some new glasses. Oh yeah, it’s that time of year. No more blurry!
The winds howled around her, wreathing her figure in a shimmering maelstrom of icy silver rain. Blades of air sharpened by the force of their movement tore at her dress, the flimsy fabric long since soaked through yet still billowing around her legs in an imitation of soft silk. The cold had seeped into her very bones, her skin as numb and frigid as the pale alabaster appearance, and shaking hands clasped a sodden cloak close to her breast in a futile attempt to retain heat in the heart of this storm.
A stray verdigris lock, almost obsidian in the night, blew across her face from the harsh wind. She paid it no mind, studiously ignoring it as she did everything else. Grey-green eyes were firmly trained upon the flush of gold creeping across the horizon, visible even beyond the thick grey of thunderclouds. Slowly, softly, the storm petered out as the heavens stopped weeping but for a continuous curtain of misty rain.
A second, two, minutes, hours passed as the sun steadily rose, dominating the sky with it’s bloodied gaze, till the inevitable came true. Day had broken with a red light. She stared forwards, unseeing, with empty eyes. Frozen lips barely moved, breathing but one sound.
“No…”
A last flash of lightning lit up the heavens, thunder roaring it’s defiance as the last of the tempest faded away. In it’s wake, a clear sky paved the way for a dance of dawn. The sunrise was truly magnificent – vivid splashes of orange and pink, of infinite blues and streaks of violet – all encompassing a vermillion sun, yet she did not see.
It’s not about can’t see. It’s also about thoughts and feeling as well. When everything starts to look in less clear direction, I will think that the future is blurry.
In a second everything was blurry. With a curse she ducked down, shielding her eyes as the sand beat down against her and ravaged the tent. It was intense enough to almost knock down her haven of pitched hide, but it was strong enough to hold as she crossed over inside of it and turned around to fasten the opening with the very strips of leather she’d dismissed last night.
The blurry clouds were creeping on the blue canvas of the sky
like water color seeping through thin crackly paper
All I see is haze as my eyes tear up
The whole room appeared blurry. Her hazy eyes focused on a scene of empty champagne bottles, confetti, and partiers passed out on couches.
His face was just a blur. A beautiful blur that was going more and more out of focus with each passing second. What I would give to caress his cheeks once more. To feel his golden locks. To be kissed by those soft strong lips like the world was going out once again.
It’s good to know that she wasn’t in a hurry to get glasses, because her head having been knocked on the wood of the table at the side of her head was starting to ache a bit. And she didn’t know if the pounding and the blurry sight was because of having no glasses and going on a movie marathon or if it was because of the accident.
Instead of doing the one thing I am supposed to be doing, what I was hired and paid a large sum of money to do, I am looking for the person who murdered my father. I can’t help it, it’s a sickness. What did they think would happen when I became a cop? That I would just let it go? They’re crazy and they’ll regret the day they told me to stop.
She didn’t know who the photo was supposed to be, but she liked the blurry edges of his chin, the hint of depth in the eyes, and she felt herself going blurry, defocussing. She was melting. She said, Who is this. There was no answer, but she hadn’t expected one.
what is blurry?
the memories of the past long dead, the recollection
that feeling of almost remembering a forgotten dream, a word you feel is just at the tip of yout ongue.
it all feels blurry, in a dreamy haze of nothingness
such are dreams and memories: unreliable.
Fading between the lines, moments passing, time in a hurry, seconds dancing, life is blurry
– – a strange, strange song that echoes inside your body, a song that has long-burrowed its way into your heart, an old friend that you have not seen for years with eyes that are as old as the stars themselves, burning with secrets.
The horizon at the end of any road will be blurry, not matter which direction you want to head in. It’s going to be confusing even if its one straight shot for miles on end, or at least as far as you can see before the haze takes your certainty of direction. But you should never let the fog take your faith in yourself.
The sunlight made everything blurry–or maybe it was the hangover. She shouldn’t have gone out last night with Greg. She was an agent now, expected to make critical, mature, intelligent decisions. Such as not getting wasted with a co-worker on a Tuesday night.
It had been, however, to celebrate her promotion. Stuffing her face back into the pillow, she burrowed her hands beneath it and pricked herself.
“Ouch,” she muttered, and withdrew the sharp item.
Her new badge. Silver and ornate, heavy and… hers. She was officially Agent Paulson, one of the Association. One of an elite group of werewolf-hunters. One of… the victims of the worst hangover she could ever remember.
Reality itself rippled before my eyes.
I lifted my hands to my face and wiped the remnants of sleep away from my eyes and the world came back into focus.
The mirror before me showed me as I am, not the blurry imagine I once was.
Have you ever noticed how blurry letters look through tear-filled eyes, when you aren’t ready to read that last sentence and your hands are trembling, but you still have to find the strength to text, “goid bue”… as your phone corrects a message to that number for the last time. “Good Bye.”
{7.21.14 —
Imani Hawkins
I sought out love in every aspect of life. I searched behind buildings, in the back alleys of tortured souls and in the end, still I only found myself… broken and searching. (I wrote this on the 21st before I had an account)}
Shit. I can’t see a damn thing. Everything is blurry, just like my life. I don’t have a clue where to go from here. The whole world looks blurry and out of focus. Shit.
If I don’t wear my glasses, words on the screen are blurry. Images are blurry. I don’t like seeing things blurry. It’s not pleasant. It’s annoying. It’s enough to make me want to go to the eye doctor and get some new glasses. Oh yeah, it’s that time of year. No more blurry!
The winds howled around her, wreathing her figure in a shimmering maelstrom of icy silver rain. Blades of air sharpened by the force of their movement tore at her dress, the flimsy fabric long since soaked through yet still billowing around her legs in an imitation of soft silk. The cold had seeped into her very bones, her skin as numb and frigid as the pale alabaster appearance, and shaking hands clasped a sodden cloak close to her breast in a futile attempt to retain heat in the heart of this storm.
A stray verdigris lock, almost obsidian in the night, blew across her face from the harsh wind. She paid it no mind, studiously ignoring it as she did everything else. Grey-green eyes were firmly trained upon the flush of gold creeping across the horizon, visible even beyond the thick grey of thunderclouds. Slowly, softly, the storm petered out as the heavens stopped weeping but for a continuous curtain of misty rain.
A second, two, minutes, hours passed as the sun steadily rose, dominating the sky with it’s bloodied gaze, till the inevitable came true. Day had broken with a red light. She stared forwards, unseeing, with empty eyes. Frozen lips barely moved, breathing but one sound.
“No…”
A last flash of lightning lit up the heavens, thunder roaring it’s defiance as the last of the tempest faded away. In it’s wake, a clear sky paved the way for a dance of dawn. The sunrise was truly magnificent – vivid splashes of orange and pink, of infinite blues and streaks of violet – all encompassing a vermillion sun, yet she did not see.
She could see nothing through tear-blurred eyes.
It’s not about can’t see. It’s also about thoughts and feeling as well. When everything starts to look in less clear direction, I will think that the future is blurry.