november 21st, 2016

in the beginning there was nothing. and then, there was everything... or at least the chance of everything. the seed or idea or fragment of everything.

snow was falling softly outside, in a whisper... like it barely even existed. unknown to them of course. red furniture and guitar strings strumming, they were far away from the outside. she thought that these moments would be the ones she'd remember in twenty seven years when her favorite pastime was her alone time and the world's color magically fell away, day by day. that's how it felt, even then. every yesterday seemed to be painted in brighter colors in her memory. every laugh and paint drop, the color... the life drained out of them like the paint on a wall drying, each day becoming bland and shabby... but neater. the way it was... supposed to be? she watched the ceiling, and as he watched her eyes fall down lightly as if they were watching something, she was counting the dust mites that fell from the studio lights. slowly her eyes rose and fell, her lips parting slowly because at that point she may as well have been asleep. her fingers brushed the rough carpet beneath her while her arm grew numb from its suspension off the couch, but at least she could feel something, the tingling in her fingers of blood rushing towards them, like her fingers were the ones in need when really she knew it had to be her heart or her brain who needed it most. the mindless notes that played through the basement only lulled her further.

 and she thought, and thought... and thought. the memory of their last words still fresh on her lips, so heavy they forced her lips open, but no words came out. she knew she had to say them of course... the words. but nothing came out. every emotion she felt, fought with another and in the end she always seemed to end up muttering something useless... a waste of her breath. every question she'd ever asked herself, all floating above her head. she desperately wanted to grab at them, to claw them down so that she wasn't so far away from what she wanted to know. but her arm was numb then, and the guitar's strumming had stopped, and maybe what he was suggesting really would answer every question she'd ever asked.

 maybe, on the other hand, what she was about to agree to would ruin everything. maybe it was just another documentary waiting to happen on the late night t.v. shows her mother indulged in to forget about her dwindling sense of purpose. maybe, she was just another blue person... in a gray world where nothing ever really worked out and the most profound of arts were the ones who accepted defeat with open arms. even though she knew most anything she had yet to be told, this was something she couldn't quite understand.

 it was a trip...sure. a month or two shaved off her uneventful life, a time for her to find herself and run through dark parking lots screaming at the top of her lungs... so close to feeling something, like if she screamed a little louder... made her throat bleed from the force... like maybe then it would all work. maybe then she'd finally feel. it was a trip... sure. and he loved her, didn't want her to feel so blue anymore... sure. but what on earth could possibly turn a blue girl in a gray world brilliant. what can erase what emotional damage has been done. what type of color, experience... what type of love could undo a world of gray?  

Author's Note

okay so before i get crap for this (if i get comments at all hah) my lowercase and bad punctuation (some of it anyway) is intentional. i don't really know what this is i just sort of wanted to break away from the ball and chain that is writer's block and... this happened. i know it's not spectacular or life changing but hopefully it was worth your while :) -mackenzie