I wish that... Someday my heart is strong enough to climb all those metaphorical mountains.
I'm afraid of too many things to experience anything right now.
Fear has numbed my brain to prevent it from hurting any more.
Dear reader, I am a weak, soft, numb corpse. I wouldn't call myself alive. I'm surrounded by too many vicious thoughts that make it impossible for me to live.
Sometimes I couldn't breathe because my brain was out of assurances. In reality, I was falling into my figurative pit of darkness much faster than I had expected to but it felt so much like falling asleep that the difference seemed subliminal.
Failure was always around the corner is what I thought, but now I realise that it was always above my head waiting for the right instant to strike.
The other day I stole a glance of myself in the mirror and noticed my torn lips from how much I had bitten through. Nervousness came so naturally to me it felt like my heart pumping blood.
Dear reader... I am broken.
Her words confused me. Her joyous notes seemed like a complex lie after reading words such as the ones trampling the page my fingers were currently on.
For some reason... Today my curiosity heightened. I wanted to know who she was. I wanted to look at her bitten lips. I wanted to touch her cheeks. I wanted to see the face behind the page. I knew no-one with such conflicting emotions. I felt like I suddenly knew nothing about this girl.
She was, in my mind, an idea. Nothing else. I couldn't put a face on her. How did I know what she looked like? How could I just predict what colour her eyes were, what her smile looked like, hell how could I be so sure that this was a girl and not a guy?
Somehow none of these questions changed my mind about her.
She seemed like a fascinating person. And since she want me to think that she's a girl... I'll let her have that.
I shut the book and looked at the cover intently. It was just a plain black cover with simple letters but for some reason it said so much more than just that.
"Are you okay?" Wendy asked, punching my shoulder lightly.
"Yeah, why?"
"You're dreaming about little Ms. Fucking Stupid." She drawled.
"I'm not sure she's that stupid." I said shaking my head.
"Okay, tell me about her." Wendy said passing a hand through her hair.
"Well, she's awfully paranoid—"
"So I've heard."
"Her handwriting is beautiful."
"Sucker for good handwriting, huh?"
"You know me Wend." I smirked.
"So that's all it takes huh? Good handwriting."
"It's not just the handwriting... Somehow it's everything?"
Wend just rolled her eyes at me.
"You know I'd punch you if we weren't in class."
"Oh so now you care about class, huh Wend?"
"Clarke! Hughes! Detention!"
"This one's on you!" Wendy hissed.
I just smirked.
♥♥♥♥♥
YOU ARE READING
Stolen Pages
Teen Fiction~Her words were my poison. I used them to consume myself. Disturbingly honest. Painfully strained. Carefully penned down. Dangerously addictive.~ A journal that landed in the right hands and told a whole story with words, no lips could speak. Two...
