My mouth formed an 'O' as I looked around and searched frantically.
It has to be here. I remember leaving it here the last time I tried to feel.
I felt my heart rate skyrocket as oily fingers came in contact with dusty files and papers, rows and rows of numbers filled to the brim with logic and facts- but not the one thing I desperately needed.
"Where do things run off to when you need them?" I whispered, more so to the air around me than to my subconscious that was now sneering at me.
I huffed out, the action making me sound like a pig snorting farts and unicorns, turning their noses up in disdain.
Why do you have to work on an old notebook anyway? Start with a clean slate.
As cold and cliché that seemed, it wouldn't be a bad idea.
I don't always give you bad ideas you know.
Sure, brain, sure you don't, I sassed, rolled my eyes, and then in what seemed like a minute-
I burst out laughing.
"I'm hilarious." I voiced out, eyes crinkled with laughter, braces touching the underside of lips, plopping my body down on my bed, I picked a random notebook off of the bedside table.
Touch of laughter,
A speck of dust. Cascading down her back,
Full of tangles- yet recently brushed.
From afar you'd be able to tell,
Within her eyes, you'll probably fall,
Into the depth that even she cannot name, They still blame her for not covering her mane.
But she laughs on a day such as this one, Nature works in crazy ways little one. It will leave you deserted, Wishing your parents had you converted.
From afar you'd be able to tell, Within her eyes, you'll probably fall,
the depth that even she cannot name, They still blame her for not covering her mane.
But she laughs on a day such as this one, Despite the words that they shoot from their gun. Look inside her and you'll be able to tell,
What people see is everything she wants them to- they are under her spell.
I flip the cover of the burning notebook shut and flip over my back, a clump of sorrow stuck in my throat, salt water rimming my eyes.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
In. Out.
I curse under my breath and sit up, catching my reflection in the full-length mirror in front of the rustic bed mother refused to get rid of. Blank eyes stare back at me, the edges rimmed with salt, jet back flakes of chemical and skin an odd mix of Asian and White.
Will anything ever be the same?
My heart clenches and brain yells.
The cool sheets beneath my burning hand feel like the only comfort I'll get today, or in a couple of years until life stops being funny.
I pause and then roll my eyes.
Life will always be funnier than I am.
At least that's what my brain told me.
YOU ARE READING
Intrinsic
Short Story"So, I was wondering if you'd like to go to this conference on Saturday. It's for a writing event coming up soon and I thought you'd enjoy it." He scratches the back of his neck and the wheels start turning in my head. "Sure, I- " "Hi, guys!" A pitc...
