My wonderland isn't always pretty. It's not always sunshine and glitters, stars and dazzling waters. Sometimes it's dark and dreary. Heavy clouds. Thunder and lightning resonating through my bones, in my very being.
It would mostly happen in nights, whenever nightmares chase away my sleep and elicits screams from me. My parents would stay with me as my mind drifts away from gravity and reality until silence falls upon us.
I would cry then.
I would cry as heavy rain drown me even when I'm lying on hard concrete.
I would cry as anxiety, shame, sadness and anger take over me. Ridding me off sense and logic. Making me intangible. With nothing to solidify me, I am what I feel. Pain, anguish.
Suffering aching soul.
And when it all stops, when all fades and I'm left falling back towards reality, I would crave for the darkness and the dreariness as much as I long the brightness and iridescence.
As much as I long for a home.
My wonderland is my home.
YOU ARE READING
The Silent Game
Teen FictionShe felt too much. He was indifferent to it all. He searched for her in her labyrinthine wonderlands. She found him underneath silver and moonlight. A game. A catalyst. And two hearts that would either fall apart or overflow with a love like a sup...
