on some days, when the cheers of the crowd is loud in my ears, laughter and smiles evident on most faces, i feel the hollow part in me caving in on itself even more. the feeling of waking up from deep slumber in the middle of the night and all your feelings and surrounding seems distorted. blur. until you're left wondering what was the main purpose of being there. a spectator? a contestant in the ever lasting competition called life?
i don't think i'm close to finding it out yet, not when i can't pick out the starting line how ever would i be able to run towards the finish line. the path in front of me, unclear.
the cheers of people start to envelope me, like fog that appears while we're all asleep. fog that shows itself in the morning when our eyes are half closed. it catches you off guard and makes you think everything looks so pretty, when the sun isn't out yet.
but then i look through the fog and suddenly everything falls into place, the people who stood cheering me on that held bags of expectation. the cheers sounding different than how it sounded earlier, some more angry than others. it dawns on me that those weren't cheers, those were sounds of demand in disguise.
voices that forced me to run, not knowing what my role was in this competition, on a path that had neither the starting or the finishing line.
YOU ARE READING
POT OF POTION
Random꒰ 📑 ꒱ ·˚ ༘ i was in love with the person, i made with my potion.
