𝄞 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚂𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝄞
she finds herself in bed, thoughts still racing from the night before. she holds her hands up to her face, observing her freshly painted, trimmed nails. the polish feels tight against her hands, but she doesn't mind.
𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎡
a guitar progression that she memorized the night before plays repeatedly in her head, every morning is a new one; she doesn't appreciate when her mind feels vacant and quiet, so she rattles it with whatever she can. almost desperately grasping for anything that can act as a stimulant to keep her sane.
𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎡
she gets up and pans over to her candle sitting on the windowsill: it smells of hardened wax and saffron. the design on the candles container is very intricate, she can't help but run her fingers along the chilly glass.
𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎡
as she can hear the faint sizzle of pancakes cooking on a rusty pan from the 90's, she snickers to herself.
𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎡
she remembers what that exact pan looks like: black, stained, made of steel. it almost makes a melodic sound when you place it down on the stove.
𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎡
of course she would know; she grew up with the same glass around the house. no matter where she moved, the plates, bowls, and knives always clanked in a cardboard moving box.
𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎡
she looks over her shoulder at the bed she rose up from, disheveled blankets and a large, silky pillow she got for the holidays.
𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎡
she sighs and begins to fold the blankets slowly, propping up her pillow and smoothing out the large creases of the silk pillowcase.
her bed is made now.
𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎡
its just a matter of decision,
head to the bathroom and feel the tangy, bitter toothpaste against her teeth? she'll shake her head, almost grimacing at the thought.
but she decides to do it anyway. fuck what she thinks, sometimes you have to do what is hygienic; what is right- she tells herself.
matter of decision my ass.
wrote this while listening to weezer lmao. I really want to continue this so reblogs and feedback are appreciated ^^
