Living with training wheels meant living grounded, you can never fall. But someone can make you consider take those off.
P.s : Im rusty, this is my first time writing after a long time, so im not sure abt this one, I had this idea after a dream (woke up so sad) also english is not my first language I hope its not messy
''I love everything you do, when you call me fucking dumb for the stupid shit I do
Wanna ride my bike with you
fully undressed, no training wheels left for you''
Training wheels - Melanie Martinez
You can travel the same tracks every time you get on a train, going from one point to another on a route with a beginning and an end, but the truth is that what really changes is the space between one seat and another.
You knew how to be yourself, and believed that was the only one thing you truly knew, where everything around you seemed like a world full on uncertainty, a map to a land you had to learn to walk by yourself.
And to be you, in that circumstance, essencially meant repelling yourself from what presented danger, and what invaded you, what messed you up fromt he inside in.
Wich was a lot of things
It was like living with training wheels, never truly at the mercy of the chaos that the world seemed outside your mind, always relying on your self preservation. As if always getting on the same wagon of the same train would keep you safe and sound. At least thats what you used to believe.
You were nothing like Alex
Moving himself in between the seats as if they belonged to him, as if the world were nothing but a blank page for him to write whatever he wanted to and whenever he wanted to.
Him and his two friends walked around like a group of dogs
From that first time you saw him, you never felt like your eyes could stare that much.
He was looking around, one of his friends grabbing something from his pockets, and the other also seemed like searching for something, or just watching.
You watched, head low.
Not being perceived by others made you forget that you actually had a body and that you were not that invisible.
So when those green eyes found you, you felt a chill on your spine, your head turn in a snap to look the window, pretending not to care.
After a short moment, you hear shouts
You look towards that direction, to the doors of the wagon, and he was there, with his head and half of his body sticking out, yelling excitedly.
The wind cut in between his strands of hair, throwing him back as he fight against velocity, holding that iron handle bar tight, dodging every pole.
Each one causing you affliction, waiting for the next pole to decapitate the young man.
But he seemed smarted than that, and now you are glad he never lost his head.
That day was'nt the only one. Thankfully it was'nt the only one.
From bumping each other so often, and share glances sp frequently, maybe Alex had become more used with your face. Or maybe he just wanted to make sure there wouldn't be a pair of eyes against him if you ever found out where he went to school.
One way or another, he pulled you into his world.
He is the type of person that makes you wonder if he ever used training wheels, or if he knew they even existed. Maybe he learned everything by himself, his knees were far more scrapped than yours.
You carried more band-aids than you could ever use
With this training wheel that kept you from falling to the ground
And he knew that
For him it was one of the few thing that tasted sweet on his tongue
Little by little he learned to hold his hands on your seat, the whole way around.
He would carry band-aids on him too, but never really say.
And little by little, you would build courage to pedal a little faster.
You grew found of the way he acted, loving everything he did
You were great friends, and thing were simple. Simple like feeling the wind on your skin, simple like getting up after tripping over a stone, simple as couting clouds while talking on the passager seat.
You let yourself go
In that wagon where landscapes come as fast as it goes, the sound of your chatting would be part of a short symphony.
You would tell him about things he already knew
Or explode, asking him where he wanted you two to go
Sometime you would be self aware of your four wheeled scheme, but he made it look so simple to let go, it was natural for him. He has been riding in two-wheelers all his life.
You would catch yourself glazing the idea to take it off, let yourself oscilate out of balance for once.
Alex could drive you crazy, and bring you back to reason with words only. Sharp as a knife or smooth as silk.
You would call him a idiot for the stupid shit he did
He yelled to the winds, playing with the idea of losing his head. You froze and shouted for him to come back inside, covering your eyes with your hands.
''Stop it! This is'nt funny, its stupid''
He did'nt care as much, so he shouted back to the wind.
His body sticking out of the wagon swung back inside, his breathing uneven. He looks at you and a flash of idea crosses his green eyes.
In one quick move, he grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the open doorway.
You screamed the moment your body tipped forward. You screamed even louder when the cold night wind crashed against your face, your hair tousled, the velocity throwing it back.
You could feel Alex right behind you, his fist gripping the back of your jacket, holding you steady.
Instinctively, you clutched the iron handle as though your life depended on it (cause it actually did). Your fingers burned from the friction. Your other hand stayed inside the wagon.
''Pull me back! NOW!'' You shouted
'' Wooo hooo'' Alex yells beside you, his cheeks pressing against your ''Feel it!''
Your legs were firmly planted on the ground, your body as rigid as a stone as the wind cut across your face. Your eyes then open and you spot the stone post coming at full speed, or rather, you going at full speed towards that object.
"ALEX!"
You squeezed your eyes shut
And then you felt yourself being pulled back inside for a fraction of a second.
Things were silent for that brief heartbeat
Until you hear the wind cutting past your ears and your hair flying up again.
Alex was laughing. You dared to open your eyes, only to find the dark tracks beneath you again. This time you breathed, somewhat relieved.
"I'm holding you." Few words, but it was enough.
Your knees trembled like wheat in a field; you couldn't even feel your fist against the metal anymore.
For a second it was just you, Alex, and the wind.
He was having the time of his life, laughing and looking at you. You were being washed over by relief. Of course he was there, holding you.
And it was over; he pulls you back to the safety of the wagon. Your body almost collapses, your hand slips, and your knees give way. You stumbled forward almost falling.
Alex catches you by the arms. " feel that? Its adrenaline crash'' he grinned
You were still catching your breath, you held his arms back, your fingers digging on his warm skin before you could notice.
You looked up and met his green eyes staring into yours.
You smiled, it was ridiculous, but you smiled.
"Fuck you."
"Thought I would smash you against the pole?" He scoff
"You almost did"
"I was teaching you"
"Not taking notes"
"You should'' he shrugged ''because I won't be holding you next time" He was lying
"...I hate you" You were lying
I really...like you
His way of being everything you weren't, made you want to ride without training wheels beside him.
As long as he held you, and promised not to push you to the ground
The part that protected itself so much wanted to scream to make him yours, but it was hard to say
So maybe this time you would let yourself oscilate fully
there’s something so gutwrenching about the fact that the female characters in obsession have real dreams and wishes but never get the chance to see them realized, while both male characters waste their wishes on short-term selfish satisfaction. they were complex, free-spirited young women who just wanted to create art, and they were destroyed by a man determined to confine them to his superficial perception of them. nikki wanted to be a writer, sarah wanted to be a tattoo artist and now neither of them will get to be anything at all
I usually dont write texts that long in english, so I used my own language on drafts then used the translator to help me out (I dont feel poetic out of my native language lol)
Sandman content...in a way
prompt: I was never afraid of the dark
Gates of Horn and Ivory
I was never afraid of the dark.
On the contrary, I embraced it, I coexisted with it when the light in my eyes was painful like the tip of a needle against my corneas. The dark was silent, it didn't assault me in any way, it numbed me, and it's the only state where I can look inward instead of getting lost in the bright world outside my mind and body.
But that changed.
At first, it happened when I closed my eyes and let myself slowly drift into a deep sleep. Spiraling through mental images that distorted and formed scenes until I fell into some dream completely.
In the last few weeks, I didn't fall into just any dream, it was only one, which repeated itself night after night, as if it were the only CD available on my shelf of dreams. It was dark, a forest, the branches of the trees twisted above my head, almost preventing me from seeing the deep blue sky above the tangle of wood.
The cracks in the tree trunks formed elongated, bitter, ugly, haunting faces that made me look ahead, trying not to stare at them too much.
I knew only one thing: that I should follow that tunnel. A trembling blue light guided me through the darkness. It was like a small ball of fire, bright but not blinding, almost bringing me warmth.
I walked silently for what seemed like miles and meters at the same time, until the forest finally became less dense, and everything was a little brighter without the branches above me.
However, as I reached the end, the ground beneath my feet was no longer earth; it transformed almost imperceptibly into soft sand. My bare feet left light footprints as I walked.
And when everything opened up before my eyes, the blue light was no longer there, and my eyes could only focus on a large wall several meters ahead of me.
The distance didn't diminish, not even by visual illusion. It was miles high, perhaps, and took my breath away. It was perfectly sculpted, thousands of shapes projecting from its material. Creatures I couldn't name, perhaps Greek, perhaps Norse, others I couldn't distinguish. Along its length, bones protruded from the earth and rose astonishingly, curved until their tips reached the top of the walls. And there was a gate, on it was a sculpted helmet, large, a peculiar shape, large eyes, something resembling a bony spine protruding from the mouth.
These were gates of horn and ivory, and they must belong to someone even more menacing than them. This was a facade, gates of a kingdom that, strangely, seemed to invite me.
I wake up breathless, in the dark, in the deepest darkness of my room. I feel the sweat on my forehead, my extremities are cold, but I can't move.
My body doesn't respond to my commands, and my voice is nonexistent, it doesn't cry out for help. Not even when I notice two bright points staring at me in the darkness of my silent room.
turnnoffyourmind
jacobvanloon
discoholicmusic
