dark-green sneakers

me

Fog in eyes and thoughts.
Fielded space there.
I'm alone, without the meaning of life.
I'm so tired.

Today, the grinding
and the first snow is circling now.
We are lonely
creating, without the meaning of life for two.

I sit again for the piano,
play the snow outside the window.
And drinking, again, a cup of tea, a mad,
a magical
sleep.

But there is no regrets in this.
Although the snow replaced us to rain.
We share the fate of this,
we share the eternal rain.

Sometimes Jisung wrote poems. He liked to write about what was in his mind. Through poems, he passed his emotional state. True, no one knew that he wrote. He was afraid of condemnation by society, because he considered them not good enough. In some places, rhyme disappeared, words were strangely chosen, but he still loved them, although he considered not good enough. Recently, Han wrote a lot. In his thoughts there was a picture, and behind her the word. He was looking for inspiration in serness and strange melodies, in sounds and inaccurated things. I was looking for a beauty in a flying bird and a foliage rustle, in a single nightly lantern, which covered the road to a happy life that would never be.

Jisung wrote his small collection dedicated to the rain. He was engaged in writing with eight years. He had no one to talk to, so his crystal tears turned into glass words. They fell on paper sheets and, as if the sun bunnies, jumping along the rows, becoming meaning.

Rain in the works of Han was the main character. From verse in verse. He appeared in each of them. Sometimes Jisung did not understand why it was rain. What is this in this phenomenon of nature? But the answer to this question was simple: everything comes to life with the arrival of the rain. He gives life to trees, herbs and flowers, animals and insects. But if it rains for a long time, everything will die without him.

People are looking for melancholy in puddles and drops on the window. For a person, rain is a harbinger of mourning and death. A sign that warm summer has changed cold and unbearable in autumn.

So Jisung, sitting on the windowsill in her room, watching the rain outside the window, wrote his last poem, which later read his mother and father. Reading Minho in trembling hands, realizing that he still decided that he was drowned in the rain. But now it's not time, time has not come yet. And therefore, with pain in the shower and heart, he wrote about the closed door to the country of eternal love and the incomprehensible warmth.

● ● ●

4 days.

Today, Han has become even worse. He could no longer sleep normally, the nightmares pursued him. He woke up and woke up, considered his fingers and understood that he still sleeps. Jisung stopped eating, did not leave the room. He just lay the old thing on the bed. There were thoughts around him that they were peeled, like a flock of black ravens. They enjoyed the flesh of Han. His negative thoughts, his trafficking in a dead end.

There was a terrible stuff in the room, but the Jisung could not open the window. Recently, he began to blame a lot, even on the street and was hot. He lay under a blanket in a grey sweatshirt and looked into the void of the past days. I looked at my favourite dark-green sneakers and no longer regretted myself. He did not feel anything in relation to himself. Han stopped something at all. There is no more hope within it. There is a black hole that delays deeper and deeper. There will be no future if you are drowning in the past.

The man who saved Jisung in dreams disappeared. It was no longer. He did not call him and did not hug with love, as soon as Han was falling asleep. Strange in this situation was that Jisung continued to feel something to Minho, although he did not feel anything at all. He still wanted to look at him, listen to his strange excuses. Feel his smell, smoke together. Recently, they have come close to. Even if many are thinking: "And where is the rapprochement?", Han will answer you that it is here. Previously, they talked only when Jisung beat. And that, mostly spoke Minho. But now something has changed. Of course, whether he was sorry for Han, because he saw that she was clear something with this guy, but it does not mean that it is necessary to communicate with him from pity, right?

- I don't know, right or not, I don't want anything. Just sleep. I am very tired lately, I want to relax, - Jisung whispered into the void.

He is again "at home" one, there is no one here again. Empty, cold house. Here, happiness is not, solid darkness. Loneliness settled here, it lives in a separate room and from time to time comes to reinforce Jisung. And in the room Han live: despair, insult, sorrow, discontent, pity, hatred, gloating, regret, despondency, malice, distrust, contempt, disgust, envy and disappointment. All this is a black cloud hanging over Jisung, not giving the forces even to go to the toilet. He missed the two days of school, and his absence did not notice. Everything was so, all to it went.

Rising from the bed, Jisung went down. Drinking a glass of water, rose and lean again into the cold bed.

- I want to sleep, I really want to sleep, I'm so tired...

Insomnia tormented him, he could no longer cope with her, and he did not want. Tears no longer flowed - they ended. Outside the window was wonderful sunny weather, but the rear curtains did not miss the lace of light. There is no light here, one of the darkness. The included garland is also tired of cope with this void. It seemed that even things were in despondency. Flowers started, and books wishes. The time is not to return, the days of the days did not live again. Such is the harsh truth of the seventeen teenager.

- Flewing unwanted days, I felt insensitive, - Jisung whispered, falling asleep.