krisirj
I want him to say it, the little two syllable word. How hard would it be to promise to just attempt, to maybe, someday be interested in making this work? But no, I sit alone, hoping holding onto
Suddenly the wall was gone and all that was left for me was an upright lamp stand. I grasped the cold metal hoping it might provide some protection, but was left with nothing but hollow hopelessness.
Warm.
Drench.
Shade.
The pressure of truth, reality is weight heavy on my chest. Rattling in my head, pricking tiny holes in all of my dreams and plans. How can I walk forward without a hope of what could be?
I watched my heart slowly puddle up at my feet. Deep blue tears mixing in and swirling in the break, so heated with embarrassment--it melted.
Fear stretched over my face and melted down into the stomach. The truth stood on tiny pins waiting to topple delicately into the lap of my dear friend. What could I do to keep away the breeze.
Courage is a difficult thing. We can use it as an adjective or maybe a verb. Sometimes it is a willful move, while in most cases courage happens spontaneously. Caught off guard and forced into action.
I cannot describe the great blaze of anger swelling in my chest.
I can only sit calmly on the floor and let the coolness press against the fire.
There is no escape.
I stood naked in frot of that tall blonde boy. He captured my total vulnerability and I was stunned. This is not how one is supposed to become intimate with the opposite sex, de-robing in a public poolside restroom.
I placed two fingers in the cool liquid, poling under my car. The temperature was unfortunately warmer than I would want to report to my dad. All I could do now was huddle like the pool and hope it disappears.
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