This entire book is dedicated to talented, beautiful people who just need to let themselves breathe...and to my partner in crime, inkdusk, because she has always dealt with me and loved me no matter what the circumstances. I love you Girlie, always. (Snape face).
MARCH…
Thesewords probably won't go anywhere, but there’s a chance that they may take flight. Perhaps they shall be my belligerent soldiers, ready to fight. My thoughts could open doorways never perceived to be closed. Just cracks in the alcoves, until what I know, paints them into existence. But who’s to say which way they shall go, belligerent soldiers, or frozen in the unknown.
My silver eyes burn these words into the skin of my therapist. They’re tired of the monotonous droning of his cracking lips….
“You know .. Ms. Devlin.. we cannot label your issues based on an ‘Irish temper.’ There is really something going on with you. It is my job to help you figure out exactly what that is.”…. Condescending prick….
“Irish temper.” I laugh to myself, smiling sweetly at his blanketed eyes. “Mr. Kepler, we both know that I don’t have a temper… just an interesting view on handling my problems..” With every word, I make sure my star eyes twinkle.
“W-w-w-well.. Ms Devlin.. You’re…umm… well your records… it’s just that they don’t seem to correspond with your…umm…current.. State of composure… “
My insides scream with amusement. Oh Mr. Kepler, you’re such a sucker for a great smile…
**************************
Outside the therapist’s office, rain is dousing my fire. My fervently red bangs are glued to pale cheeks. The stars shaven into the left side of my scalp are drowning.. Stars need to breathe.
When the bus lumbers to a stop at my feet, my mind is fully distracted by the competing clouds.. Gray loves to overtake the white, slowly ripping it of its purity.. Until they are dark inside. I cant help sympathizing with those clouds; There’s gray inside me too. I am only shades, from the silver in my eyes and the charcoal of my trench coat, to chipping black that clings to dagger-like nails…. The horn honks. I step from the dreamily dismal outside into the crinkled can of transportation.
Edging my faded combat boots through the aisle, I see them, my fellow bus riders. There is nothing more noticeable then their communal view of me…. Me, with the frays of a black skirt and ripped, pink and black stockings, peeking out beneath worn trench coat. Me, with my pouted lips and eyes daring for confrontation. I know how they see me. Such adversary is palpable in the air.
Crunching myself into the corner of this bus seat, I let my mind once again wander to a source of gray. Mr. Kepler was right. My spontaneous paroxysms, briefly summarized by my records, do not “correspond” with my “current state of composure.” Honestly, I am still confused about my latest transgression. After all, it had been a good day.
The constant trumpeting of my heart had mercifully calmed. As I nibbled on what little food lay before me, Rubz(Ruby), with her willowy body slumped in amusement, started in on our ritualistic argument.
“ABz!!! Why wont you eat?! You will waste away to nothing; just a toothpick with some red fluff!” I couldn’t help but laugh as she affectionately plucked at my glowing bangs.
“Oh Rubz! Don’t you know I am just trying to keep myself thin… Compared to you, I’m as round as a pumpkin!” I winked and Alec chuckled at both of us, barely looking up from his poetry.
Rubz and Alec have quite the dramatic relationship. Ruby is madly infatuated with Alec. I cannot count the times that I’ve listened to her swoon…Did you see the way his eyes lit up at my Shakespeare quote? Did you see?! I think he likes me! He must like me!! But no… I won't ask… He probably doesn’t.. no…
