Forever Falling

Self proclaimed artist and writer

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First attempt at crepes. They turned out really good.

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Got my dog his new tags.

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Took a two hour bath. This little guy was there from start to finish. Love my little Prince Caspian. <3

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I should probably finish this some day.

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Joe Yerian, it sounded like a guy’s name honestly. If the person who was born to be named had heard it for the first time, like everyone else, then she’d probably think the same thing. She was not a guy, though, and she had been born to that strange name. Well, technically she was named Little Joe Ellen Yerian. Yeah, that Little Joe. The one from the old western TV show. Bonanza or something like that. It had been a favorite of the woman she had once called mom. Joe had been reminded over the years that either way she would’ve been named after someone from that old western. Boy or girl, the name would still be the same, only difference is that Ellen, her middle name, would’ve been Adam. Like Adam Cartwright. Again, Bonanza. 

That was before her life changed. Joe was just a name some knobby kneed girl on a school playground had used. That girl had died. Died literally at the age of six from drowning in a tub. Luckily she was revived. A cough after being pounded on repeatedly had been enough to bring up the water, but then, ten years later Joe died again. Only this time it was figuratively, and with that death a new person was born. 

Some called her Ariel; a joke because she had once stayed underwater for over an hour before being physically pulled out. She was fine. Nothing to show for the odd event beyond wet hair. Others called her Atlanta. It seemed like no one could be that original in their naming attempts, and yet, there was one name that stuck.

It happened at night. The once strangely named girl who had drowned in a tub of water was sitting outside. This was the time of night when everyone was given a break from their personal training and group training. A time before bed but after dinner in the mess hall. This was when everyone could do what they wanted for a full hour. She just happened to like being outside, and on that night, the night she had been given her new name, the one that stuck for good, she was singing. A few other students passing by an open window heard the haunting sound, and yet when asked later on about what happened next, not one could recall their jerky movements as they climbed out of the window and jumped. Two boys, one girl, all fell and landed on the ground with a sickening crunch. Luckily they had not died. At least not again. Their wounds were severe. Not life threatening, thankfully, but it was enough to start a rumor amongst the different groups, and before long, the once strangely named girl was given a new name and she was moved from one unit to another.

They called her Siren.

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Too many times did the night end like this; blue smoke curling from purple lips and disappearing into midnight blue skies and icy winds. Another hard day has come and gone; blending into the one before it and the one before that. Sand dripping through an hourglass to pile onto itself. Green eyes, rolling upwards, were tinted red from being too tired and urban tobacco. 

"Peaceful nights and rushed mornings," those same purple lips spoke to no one in particular; staining the previous silence with hushed words and puffs of breath that disappeared nearly as fast as they came to be.

Another inhale from a burning paper wrapped around green leaves. Lungs held fast to the smoke. A lifeline to avoid going crazy. Grass was for healing after all. 

Exhale the bad thoughts and feelings with the curling blue smoke.

Inhale good vibes and hungry tendencies.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Then it was gone. No more healing smoke to pull in. No more anger to pass between slightly pursed lips and being dispersed back into the world for another day. The end of a cycle that kept the unwilling living for another day, only to begin again when alarm clocks blared in early mornings and greyed out skies.

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