tellmeastoryaj
They blamed me for all of it. They needed someone to blame. What would life be without a scapegoat; an escape; a reason to not be ashamed.
I am a desert without you.
My chest an arid, aching expanse.
No life, no safety.
Vulnerability.
I am a desert without you.
Just five more minutes, please?
Here comes the rain.
If you look closely, there are little white lines running horizontally across my left wrist.
Tiny lines.
Raised up.
I am scarred.
These lines tell of a girl who used to be - broken.
But now, I am proud to be lined like paper. For on these lines is written my story.
I am happy to be an open book.
I am scarred because I survived.
My mind is a sponge. I've been studying like crazy for this new job and I think my mind has reached saturation. No more tonight.
My beloved. My reason to breathe. My safety. My hope. My dreams.
My beloved. My life. My heart. My pride.
My beloved.
My.
My..
My..
My beloved.. Maybe one day.
Backed into a corner; pressed against these walls. Pressured. Panicked.
No matter how much time passes, my heart cannot forget the things it has seen; the pain it has felt. Forgetting is impossible when memories have been tattooed.
The mud caked layer upon layer on his cowboy boots flaked off in dusty chips as he stepped, right foot then left foot, onto the deck. He blinked quickly, his eyes adjusting to the shade from the roof above him. He reached a strong arm up to take his hat off, rubbing the sleeve of his blue and green plaid shirt across his forehead, wiping away beads of sweat. With a deep breath, he stepped twice more and lifted a heavy hand to knock on the screen door in front of him.
I road to my hotel in Canada in a limo. They over-booked the shuttle.
True story.
I wonder what life would be like if I could live out of my backpack.. Just go. Just walk for miles and miles; seeing, feeling, thinking, living. All of my things wouldn't fit into a backpack.. Why do we need so many things to begin with? Maybe I should consolidate my world to fit into a single backpack.
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