My life is split into two parts. Two sides of the same coin, one might say. Because for me, one cannot exist without the other.
The first - The tightness in my chest every time I step through the doorway. The way I feel like I'm lying. To them, to her, to myself. I become this caricature of a rebellious teenager because of this secret that I hold so close to my heart day in and day out. My guard is up all the time and I wonder what the point is after all.
The second - When my days are as sweet and slow as syrup. When I intertwine her hand with mine and hold it up to the sky and she grins and laughs and I close my eyes because this, this is the closest to bliss I'll ever get. These moments feel like scenes from a movie like they're not really my life. Like I'm living this life for a few hours, then the credits will play and it will end. When she presses her forehead to mine and I can see the specks of green in her eyes or count the freckles on her nose and all the other cliches in the book. Sometimes we'll sit in her room or my backyard and she'll put her head on my shoulder and we'll talk in whispered voices about everything and anything and everything in between. We'll talk about school, and what we'll do after. We'll talk about parents and coming out. We'll talk about films and TV shows and books and people on the internet. Our words fill the air and eventually we'll stop talking and we sit there, her head on my shoulder, and I can pretend we're the only real thing in the whole world.
I originally wrote this as a POV inspired by this playlist - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ifEAEeOO48&lc=Ugx2IT1qLMx483YtHjN4AaABAg.9Mdvwe7r5i99N7G-dnJ5LP
YOU ARE READING
short original stories
Randomhi there! this is going to be a collection of short stories/scenes I've written that I want to share but aren't enough to be anything on their own. I hope you enjoy :)
