hah

lemme write

[markv5]

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[s3nti-cact1]

She's in pain. Suffering and writhing right next to you, and you can't do anything. Her strong voice has left her, and she now only speaks in hushers. You need to lean in to hear the movement of her lips. Your heart swells yet clenches, tears of sympathy are treathening to cascade down your cheeks but you'll know it would only make things worse. A quiet request of ignoring her pain, make her seem like a ghost in your eyes is barely heard. Your lips are quivering, but you gulp down as if it would give you any more strenght. To be stronger for her.

A balloon in your chest is making it's presence clear by pressing it sides to your chest cavities, threathening to crush itself between your ribs. You work to slowly deflate it, breath by breath. Deep breath, slow exhale. Your red cheeks huff and puff, a white cloud emaning from your pursed lips as you exhale what was left of the balloon. She considers the hospital, you ask about coming along. No answer was given.

[s3nti-cact1]

Close yet no traditions. Afar only during holidays, both to different clinking of glasses and saying of cheers. Celebrating together only when adptation was needed. Adaptation to this family's, this culture's, this friend's tastes and differences in celebration. Adaptation that ends up getting wasted, thrown in the trash as this family, this culture, this friend did to our relationship. A severed ribbon of trust, where it's two single split ends contains each person's loss of what to do. Two people that are close yet afar only during holidays. Clueless as to what to do now.

[s3nti-cact1]

Invited, coming? Another excuse spilling from their lips, a tap on the screen and a simple shake of the head to negate. Don't they realise it's the third out of fifteen that they've used the same? Weren't they known to be creative? A heavy veil sits on the mood, realization that it isn't by coincidence. Another lost family, another mystery of the human mind.

[s3nti-cact1]

A constant in my life, a pride that not only I wear, gets cuts off by shears. A hurricane fills my mind, the emotional weight evacuating my skull and floodings gathering around my eyes. A shaky nod towards the hairdresser, that paused to tilt their head in question. I hadn't changed, yet why this big of a change? Locks fall to the ground, and as my head feels lighter and lighter, my lips are not so worn down anymore. A new glint in my eyes, and that's when the hairdresser knew that they weren't cutting with shears anymore, but cheers.

[s3nti-cact1]

When stuck with a hazy vision, I often remember words that have far long already made their impact. An advice that was surely metarophical, but seems to have only revealed its shapeshifting powers to me. That as soon as I read, I huffed and puffed in laughter from it, ridiculing the same sentence I was to use to console myself only moments later, crouched in a school hallway with only the janitor keeping me company.

"Hold your head up high to keep the tears from falling"

Is it to look at the blue sky, to ask the clouds to share some of their rebellion towards gravity? To let the neck stretch while taking a couple of deep breaths? To greet the roof over our heads, say a chipper hi to the lonely ceiling up ahead of us? The answer fails to come to me, but my neck still tries its best to tilt discreetly, to hide the burning tears on the verge of cascading with a remorseful smile. Shaky voice, sniffling nose and red cheeks, none shy to show themselves, but the secretions of my lacrymal glands seems to find itself to be the black sheep of the family.

And yet the tears still sear, burn their trails under my eyes, like the traitors they truly are. A few sorries, scuse me's and a run to the bathroom later, only the plant on the windowsill seems content of the outcome. The dark cloud above my head isn't the only one watering the plants. And as frail, shaky fingers caress the plants blooming new leaves, I find myself embracing the crybaby that I am, prompting it to cry rather to lull it to sleep.

Outlines of petals climb up my limbs when my heart feels like imploding, markers running up and down to soothe the nerves. Green replaces pink in my room, sunlight filtering between the leafy barriage that stands proudly in front of my window. No longer can I catch a glimpse of the moon outside. Intsead, the soil sucks up my tears, and I couldn't be more grateful for their company when the night gets lonely.