cinnamon;

first and last roll;

i am looking for somebody who wants to make a cover adequate to the title and text (!) of this story
inspiration: wstałkavlog & lana del rey;

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Everyone considered her as a perfect person. Someone without any flaws, with only advantages. Nice, helpful, cultural, punctual, friendly and intelligent. She was for all of them a small substitute of the sun on stormy and rainy days, their mainstay on sunny days and their polar star when they wandered in the middle of the night. She was their star accompanying them at every stage of their lives. However, did anyone notice that this star was slowly becoming a black hole?

Cindy just felt that way, waking up every day with that pain in her chest. It was a doubled feeling. On the one hand, she was overwhelmed by the weight of memories related to him, on the other hand, she suffered from shortness of breath related to the illness she was going through. However, the worst thing was that she couldn't share it with anyone, because it would destroy her semblance of an ideal she'd been developing for years. Maybe because of this all of it collapsed in itself and caused an explosion?

She spent every day in the same way. She listened to the complaints of the people around her, only to finally comfort them all with the same learned formulas. However, they did not pay much attention to this, if any. When a person needs to talk to someone, they don't want to receive any concrete reaction of the recipient or listener. They all only want their listeners presence from beginning to end. It doesn't seem like a big sacrifice, but is anything ever what it seems to be?

Cindy suffered when other people suffered. What made her stand out was that she was suffering not only for herself but also for them. With each subsequent person pleading her, she learned new stories and became part of them. Of course she experienced them less than them, but this didn't diminish the importance of it for her. So when someone freed himself from his problems, they burdened them unwittingly caught up in the situation. Because no matter how hard you try, suffering never goes away. It only passes from person to person, sometimes spreading to more individuals, and sometimes accumulating in one, which often leads to madness or dangerous and unpleasant thoughts. But is there any wonder?

It has always been known that such thoughts should not be choked, because it is simply harmful. Cindy only once felt too much concentration of pain at one moment to tell someone. And she regretted her choice to the end of her days, each day regretting it only more and more. She tried to free herself from bad ideas, but then she couldn't tame it. She was writing to her classmate because she knew that he was experiencing similar problems. However, despite the pleasant beginnings, this chapter didn't end well. But has it ever been going to?

They wrote by all days and nights and shared their thoughts and secrets. People called them friends. However, they were far from it, they could not say a word to dach other in the real world. Their relationship was based on tangled thoughts and tangled letters. Everything seemed perfect - two teenagers helping, supporting each other and so on. Their true approach to each other only came out when one of them freed himself from the burden of problems. And no, it wasn't Cindy. But can anybody blame him for it?

It wasn't his fault that he found for himself a trouble-free company in which he lived in the present, forgetting about the uncomfortable memories. It wasn't his fault that he had to forget about the girl he had associated with his past, when he shared it with her, to forget his problems. She was forgotten for the better life of another person. Through her, some innocent soul was indirectly rescued. It was her goal from the very beginning - to help people. So why was she experiencing it that way?

The days went by and memory about him grew fuzzy. The golden hair seemed faded, the transparent sapphire irises became an average shade of blue. His characteristic features seemed to be bland after a long time. Each of us would like to live more or less consciously in an ideal world. That is why we try to colorize and make people who are with us more perfect. We create a layer around us that gives warm and pleasant colors to our friends. However, when someone moves away from us, they lose in our eyes. It blends with the gray reality. But does not thinking about him was equal to total forgetfulness?

No one was able to enter place, which he was fulling before. The emptiness in her heart and her thoughts was a kind of aggressive nightmare, which didn't want to stop stalking her and being even after waking up. Cindy didn't show it. She just couldn't and couldn't. She shed her feelings on paper, writing better and worse poems in several scriptures. She showed the less obvious ones to others, feeling the inner need to hear nice words. Because after so many unpleasant things, didn't she deserve a few compliments?

She always described herself as empty. Others laughed at this statement, denied it or reacted differently. You wonder if they understood the word in a different way than she did. Her body, interior, head, heart - it was all empty and could not be filled. Everything went on forever, like this text you are reading here right now. Less and more important issues interspersed with tangled letters that could not be arranged in a satisfactory lines. But was anything about her at that moment able to please her?

One day she didn't show up at school. On the calendar appeared the eighth of November. It was a year after he had told her to live at least a year for him. Cindy didn't break her promise. She waited patiently until that day to make this radical decision which was to decide about her fate. She combined and prepared the right pills in advance to relieve the pain associated with the weight of the option she chose. The empty stomach highlighted their beneficial effects. The girl didn't hesitate anymore. She slept half of the day and tried to arrange a farewell list for the rest of her day. When it was the right time, she slipped out of her house and boarded the right bus. It seemed to her that now nothing could prevent her from making this plan come true. But was it really like that?

She climbed to the roof of the block where she was living when she was younger. Only because of it she knew how to avoid the eyes of curious people and how to bypass the endangered path to the ladder on the roof of the building. While putting her feet on a flat surface, she breathed heavily. Was she ready for that?

There was no turning back. She crawled to the edge and sighed. She raised herself to a standing position and looked straight ahead. She felt a strong attraction to the ground that she couldn't resist. Then the phone's soft sound came. Cindy tried to ignore it and take this final step, but the melody distracted her and prevented her from concentrating. She sat up in resignation, hanging her legs from the roof. She pulled the cell phone out of her pocket and unlocked it. A chat bubble appeared on the screen. She entered the conversation and checked who wrote to her. She regretted it immediately. Her ex-friend sent her lessons in pure camaraderie.

"Why weren't you at school today? We all were worried..."
"I was just sick."
"Should I send you lessons tomorrow?"
"Sure, they can be useful"

Time passed, fell like grains of finely ground cinnamon through his fingers. She put the phone down on the roof and made the intended act. She was dying im really ugly way, but her death was remembered as beautiful. Her character was comparable to cinnamon. Seemingly beautiful, sweet and adored by everyone, it got bitter in excess and burned in the throat. She felt as if she was always in excess, mentally and physically. However, no one noticed her bitterness because they were focusing on her only when they needed something. People use the presence of others, because then they may not have such an opportunity.

Her life dispersed like a cloud of cinnamon.

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A/N

I had to talk to someone. All these words here are my own thoughts that I had to get out of myself. She is my incarnation in another dimension. However, my story will not end like this, because by reading this you have become confidants of my suffering.