Its the days where I look out the window and vividly see myself running away. Off in the distance a girl with long hair and holes in her leggings, running through a field of snow, getting lost in a naked forest, falling down and just crying her eyes out.
I want somebody to take my hand the way I take others. I want someone to look me in the eyes and be able to tell me that they understand what I’ve been through or even if they don’t understand at least walk with me and talk with me and try to understand. When I hear someone else’s story I always try to feel the way they felt. Which i understand is literally impossible but I try to understand. I try to understand what it was like to lay in bed while your mother screamed as your father beat her. What the bed sheets felt like. Did you leave the fan on that night? Did you sit up and cry or did you let your tears soak the pillowcase?
I want to understand and I want to be understood. I want someone to write about me the way I write about them. I want to be your muse, the way you’re my muse. Do I inspire you? Do you think about me at your darkest hour?
Ask me why I paint when I’m sad. Ask me why I always chase you when you walk away. Ask me why I keep buying books that I never read. Why I play a song on repeat for 3 days straight. Why family means so much to someone who has none. Ask me how i got that scar, and why i got that tattoo.
Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself.
Some nights I like to walk the streets by myself. After everyone has fallen asleep. To hear the crunching of snow beneath my feet, as snow flakes light up underneath a street light. Pure silence as the city sleeps. My mind racing, thinking about every choice I had ever made to end up here. What lessons am I learning and even questioning what the point may be because one day we all die anyways.
I guess it comes with being human. To question ones reality and to become depressed for the most unknown reasons. To complain even when you’re in the most blissful of places. To be lonely even when you’re surrounded by everybody and asking to be loved from even the coldest of people.
Being human is so painful but you make it interesting.