Cloud Chasers

six | a momentary lapse of reason [pt. two]

Caution: mild sexual descriptions ahead. Read at your own risk!

It was only a few minutes after eight in the morning. She wasn't feeling sleepy anymore, that conversation with Helios worked like coffee on her, so she decided to get up.

She slowly spun around her room. On her desk, everything reminded her of her failures. The typewriter that she couldn't get to work to save her life; the mere thought of it made her sick. And when she glanced at it, sitting there among the pages ripped off of a notebook, she would begin to feel frustrated.

But not nearly as frustrated as that old computer made her feel. The memory of it being so slow and bad made it lose in her eyes the only cool thing about it: the aesthetic aspect. It now looked to her as tacky and as undesirable as those torn pages on her desk.

The pages and pages of what she considered plain bad writing, all they reminded her of was the coffeehouse in which she'd written them.
The coffeehouse and the people around her, the stupid people, oh, how she hated them. With their looks and their judgement. It was bad writing because she was focused on that, on her surroundings, and not the writing.

But what was she supposed to do? Whenever she sat at the desk in her own house, she wouldn't even write a word. At least outside she was writing something; bad, but still something.

She couldn't just sit around on her bed all the time and wait for random bursts of inspiration to arrive and write a couple of lines like she did the other day.
She needed something big. Poetry and aphorisms weren't going to take her anywhere.

Maybe she didn't even have any talent to begin with. Perhaps it was all in her mind, they were all excuses to divert her attention from the reality of it.

No, it made no sense. She knew she was valid. She took her phone and scrolled through her files to find something she'd written years ago.

Until then, she wouldn't dare open it and read it because of the people involved with the inception of that, but she felt that she needed it today. So she opened it, in spite of the wounds that were still very much open.

She began reading it on her phone and got immediately immersed into it.

She strolled across her room as she read, at times picking something up from the floor, whether clothes or garbage, and throwing them either in the closet or in the bin unconsciously.

It took her about twenty minutes to read all of it and, considering that she cleaned away a couple of items every minute, when she was done reading she was surprised to find the mess in her room gone.

The thing that surprised her the most was that she'd actually made the bed while reading, somehow. How nice and spacious her room looked when tidy, she thought, about as nice as what she'd just read.

Surprisingly enough, while reading, she never found herself thinking about the reason behind that piece of writing.

But she didn't want to delude herself, she knew the wounds were still there. She also knew that she was sweating, so she decided to take a shower.

Under the running water, she had the chance to collect some of her drifting ideas and think about something nice to write. After about twenty minutes, she was satisfied with her mindset and stepped out of the shower.