I want them to see, yet at the same time, I don't. I want them to notice when something is wrong, even when I smile and laugh. Do they even notice, or am I that good at hiding it?
The dance contiunes and continues...
"-and it is about time you knew what you want to do."
"Trust me, it will only get worse from here."
And I somehow stay in this dance, jumping and turning and skipping every little thing that dares trip me.
"Worthless."
"You know who you are."
Silence.
I spin and twirl, and people move, I move. They trip, I trip. They help, I help. They spin and twirl...
As I see them all with partner(s), I dance with my mind. I still believe all the words they throw, but that's okay.
I hide it from myself as well.
The sheep stay busy, prancing from wall to wall, as I spin and twirl. Spin and twirl, spin and twirl, spin and twirl...
I must be doing too well at hiding. Even I think this is normal.
"Why are you even here?"
"Do you know the world does not need any more dead weight?"
Yes, this is normal. The words are normal, a part of everyday life. Their actions are normal, what they do is normal.
I am being normal.
The sheep are in chaos, but that's okay. As they prance and prance I too, will move and embrace every black sheep that is given to me.
I am bound to forget them anyway. I am bound to keep my mask. I am bound to keep dancing and dancing and dancing...
Spinning and twirling with uneven, unrhymthic steps and drags.
I am bound to bottle it up and throw it away.
YOU ARE READING
Counting Sheep
Teen FictionOne sheep, two sheep, This is not helping at all. Three sheep, four- Someone kill me, I must snoop this low. Five sheep, six sheep, I feel tired, but the waters still flow. Seven sheep, eight she- It looks like the sheep hit a wall. I guess eight sh...
