nothing else but my heart's desire [COLLECTION] | FINISHED

La vie en rose - ORIGINAL PROSE

Emily often looked at life through rose-coloured glasses, it was how she fell in love with everything, everywhere, all the time, as she moved through the lively city, as she fought each day to see the beauty in the run-down, neglected state the local authorities had allowed the once cherished place to fall into, for it had been the pride and joy of the locals, though no more.

Still, she lived and worked there, she wandered by the old, abandoned parks on her way to run errands, to and from work each day, stopping occasionally in stores and cafes, all with employees just managing to get by, as she greeted neighbours on her way home, who were less than happy to see her cheery, outgoing personality, though they tried to hide behind it as best they could, as they had begun to question their own choices, though such seeds had been planted long before they met the bright, lighthearted young woman. She had friends who seemed so downtrodden by life, with sunken eyes, though they hid their low, tired demeanors behind forced smiles, which eventually grew more relaxed in her presence, as though her easy-going, laid-back lifestyle had begun to infect their own attitudes to life, as stress melted away to give way to love and appreciation of the highest order. She smiled and laughed, joked when they asked her the secret to eternal happiness, to allowing worries to brush off her as easy as dust upon her jacket, as though she had become immune to the daily grind, like nothing could faze her anymore than the sun beating down upon the earth during the height of summer, or as it rained heavily, poured down and would not relent, during the darkest, coldest days in winter. But it was not so much the case for Emily, not on her own at the very least.

When she returned home that evening, to an empty apartment as she usually did, she found herself depleting, as her emotional energy begun to fade and drop lower and lower, feeling the burdens of the world and the stresses finally come back to force her down and down to the ground, exhaustion taking over as it had fought to do so for the entirety of the day. But still, she smiled and put on a face bright, bold, ready to face the world as others aspired to, to look at her surroundings, as much as they would always be there, through eyes of love, appreciation, beauty and wonder. She found beauty in the graffiti which covered walls and hidden corners, wondering if such places led to hidden passages to concealed worlds, hidden in plain sight, as she caught sight of the mothers who fought to keep their heads as they managed growing families, all with the same admiration she held for her own family, as she had seen such hardship growing up; she held her friends up, for they meant more to her than anything, but still came home to an empty home, which acted both as sanctuary from the harsh realities of the world, and as prison, keeping her grounded to the small corner of the world carved out specifically for her, and others like her. She breathed in and out, as she set down her bag and took off her jacket, throwing it across the room upon a lone chair in the middle of her living room. She had sighed then, preparing a hot chocolate in the kitchen recently cleaned to perfection, as she spent a lot of time managing her area, her space to live and relax. It was all her own, and so she made it in her image, lived through the romance of living as she wanted to, with no one else to say what was wrong or right, which was the better way of living or not; she sat down, by her window which stretched from floor to ceiling, as she watched the hustle and bustle of the city below, as cars drove to and from down busy roads, with pedestrians walking the streets like ants upon gravel. Lights flickered on and off as far as the eye could see, as houses came to life with families doing all the things families do best, together, from game nights to meals in together, from watching their favourite shows to preparing for the next day ahead, as mothers and fathers fought the urge to fall asleep then and there, as they had been up from early in the morning to late at night. As much as she would never be able to tell each how good of a job they were doing, she would utter a quiet prayer before bed tonight, as she did most nights, for she hoped they all had the courage to romanticise their lives as she did, no matter how hard it seemed. Such years flew by before they'd even know it, as she had come to realise.

She had changed into comfortable evening wear, and begun to feel the first signs of sleepfulness which always beckoned her to bed around this time in the night, but it was also, routine now it had become, around the time she would ignore such calls in favour of another, as messages from her special someone had come through, as he finished work and sought to ask her about her day, not knowing speaking with him was her favourite time of day, the thing which kept her going when all else failed, when the world became just a little too dark. It was her rose, her light in the dark to guide her home, back to safer waters.