The Unravelling

The Point Of No Return

~ The only impossible journey is the one you never begin ~

Tony Robbins

Entering my house is a solemn experience, the cinnamon roll candle is burning and yet the smell seems to pass through me. Grey stands in the center of the living room staring idly into the unlit fireplace whilst twiddling his thumbs. At the sound of our footsteps Grey looks up at the two of us smiling, although his eyes are dull, lacking the shimmer they once held. Running a hand through his hair he closes his eyes to breathe, then meets my eyes once more. 

"I'll go get my stuff." I say rubbing the back of my arm. Grey only responds with a nod to me, then turns his attention to my dad. 

Casting my eyes down to the warm colored wood floorboards beneath my feet, I begin to shuffle across the room. I mostly ignore Sammy's wags from the corner of the room as I turn away from him towards the stairs trying to envision myself back in my meadow. The warm breeze, the sound of the birds chirping, hot earth beneath my feet. The voices of Grey and my dad pass through me seemingly muffled as I lumber up the stairs. Sighing I push the door to my room open, stepping out of the doorway I close the door behind me. Leaning back against it I collect myself taking a deep breath, and walking towards my bed. On it are two bags that I had packed prior to today, an army green duffle bag that has all my clothes and my bulking items. I also have a black kanken backpack. I'm positive that I have the entirety of my things but just to make sure I unzip my duffle bag and palm through it double checking that I have everything, and when I'm satisfied I zip up the bag back up and throw on my backpack. It has my most immediate necessities like my phone, charger, headphones, sketchbook, my books, and my glasses so that I can actually read my books. Grabbing the worn duffle bag in my right hand I look around my room for the last time until next year at least. My throat instantly dries at that thought.

My room isn't large but to me it's home, and its always been enough space for me. The bed sits on top of a wooden platform bedframe with a big fluffy duvet and textured blankets. My bed is centered underneath the window on the wall left of the door. The walls are now painted a creamy white since I thought that the peach color was a little out of style a few years ago. On the wall across from my bed are two doors, one leads to my small closet and the other is my own little on suite bathroom so that my dad and I don't have to share. Between the doors is a waist high dresser that is stained with the Early American color. A wooden desk is placed against the wall that separates the living room downstairs and my lofted room, and a full length mirror is angled in the corner. The desk is normally cluttered with pens, paper, a half read book and some succulents, however all of that has now been cleaned up and the succulents have been moved downstairs. Parallel to that wall is a large window that spans a few feet, beside it is a chair that hangs from the ceiling that I sit in when I read. Bellow the window is a short book shelf that houses my vast collection of novels. However I'm only taking my favorite ones with me, Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire, The Book Thief, The Notebook, and my moms old journal. 

She loved to write her thoughts and experiences and leave them elegantly scrawled in journals she had bought from all around the world. She even wrote legends and fairytales in some of her books, and sometimes she had left a page or two of her writings in the places she had visited. Well, according papa that is.

Turning around with my duffle bag in hand I look into the mirror. It almost seems like I'm headed off to war. It definitely feels that way at least. My naturally curled dark brown - almost black - hair drops to just below my shoulders, that frames my heart shaped face and compliments my honey colored complexion. Fluffy brows that accentuate my almond shaped eyes and long lashes. My dark blue eyes lazily stare back at me, and my naturally upturned lips are now tilted downwards in discontent. A windbreaker bomber jacket covers my arms and shoulders and white T-shirt is tucked into my high waisted cuffed shorts. My moms old high topped converse adorn my feet.