Float

Spinning on a Mattress

We've lived so long in our bubble, constructing a world that fits our thoughts.

We've made everything about what's right and what's not.

We've blamed people for our anger, our problems, and all the unfortunate things that we wish we forgot.

We allow our demons to cycle, never letting forgiveness recycle.

I guess the real question is

How much can we take in before hatred makes us hard like rocks?

Wasn't it that same hurt,

that hurt them?

that hurts you?

that hurt then.

That keeps you hurting

so

hurt wins.

Until

we hurt again...

Let hurt end.

Ｊａｃｏｂ'ｓ ＰＯＶ

You have no idea how I feel.

I had this notion that Anna would be the one.

And perhaps I was wrong for trying to make Anna fit into my idea of who I wanted her to be.

We often fall in love with potential versus reality.

I felt the dark blends of the sky open up above, as the smell of rain lingered just beyond the noon horizon. It was dismal, like sonder thoughts, drinking from weak hands; shaking. A cool layer drifted in from the quiet coast, as I left the world behind, slowing sinking in with my tears of humiliation. The road home was long and winding, as the sandy beaches carried my heavy feet.

How could she do this to me?

From the moment I met Anna, I felt an unexplainable connection to her, similar to the one we all feel with nature.

Perhaps, I could relate to her sorrow or the idea of never fitting in. Some people are quiet, others are nice, several are loud and angry, but we've all been hurt. There is nothing different about pain, even to the degree.

"Ma- I-I-I'm h-h-h-hhhh-hhh-ooo-me" I grumbled, kicking off my shoes, as I entered the familiar pastel white halls, filled with the homely decor, and the smell of my grandma's recipes.

"Baby Cub!" my mom smiled as she greeted me warmly.

I groaned as she assaulted me with her motherly affections, and tattooed my face with the red ink of her lipstick.

"St-st-tt-tt-tt-ooooo-oooo-pp pppp-p" I muttered, letting the words draw out my irritation, as she attempted to smooth out a few loose hairs on my head.

I loved my mom to pieces, she had such a sweet nurturing love, but occasionally it felt stifling.

"Alright, let the man go! He's got a party to get ready for!" My dad bellowed, patting my mom gently on the back until she let go.

I laughed, my dad was one of those awkward dads, who thought they were cool because they watched the travel channel and knew how to use an iPhone. I looked a lot like my dad, except for his round beer belly, which he called his "love gut".

My mom, on the other hand, had soft amber hair, full of curls and bright burning green eyes. She had a petite figure and a round face.

My mom was a natural beauty who preferred simple clothing styles.
She liked to wear flannels and light blue jeans, unlike my dad who was always trying to create a new fashion trend, with mix-match clothing.