early morning toast and faces
This morning seemed like a good one for toast, drenched in not-so-thick boysenberry syrup. The sweetness on her tongue excited her, but only for a few moments before it became unbearable. She forced the rest of her bites because otherwise it would be a waste.
She was tired, but hopeful. Tired of the faces she was making. Of course, these faces were her choices but she was just so tired of them. She started reading again. She wanted to fall back in love with life. For so long, she held quietness close to her heart. To be a lady. To be peaceful. To be submissive. For the sake of obedience. Maybe even for the sake of her sanity. But now is not the time for quietness, for obedience. A 20-something year old should be full of life. Anger. Sadness, which she had on lock by the way. Love. Euphoria. Questions.
Questions. She always had questions. What am I supposed to be doing? Why do I think so damn much? Why did I make that choice back in 2016? Why does the world suffer, while so many of us sit comfortably? Why do I think about said choice everyday, but live so freely in love? How can I stop the pain? Why do I need to stop the pain? Feeling so distant and depressed is not healthy, right? But then why does it feel so fucking good? Why is he taking so much time? Why am I posting this photo? Who cares?
Honestly though. Who cares. Not a question, but a statement. Who cares.
She’s the center of her own universe. Those close to her don’t understand. They mistake this for selfishness, for impulsiveness. But who does she have if not herself? Putting herself first ensures she will not go crazy, lose her shit, and fade into this mad world. She loves herself more than anyone, but maybe not more than him. Her one true weakness.
She is ready to fall back in love with life. Back in love like the year 2016, where sadness met euphoria and they walked hand in hand, co-existing in perfect harmony.
