ｃｏｎ ｍａｎ || ｊｓｃｈｌａｔｔ カ果宴壱

ii. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

"who the fuck is this and why is she in our apartment?" daryl immediately questions his sister, the dark skinned guest now feeling much less at ease. "you never bring anybody home from school, found a new replacement for me?" his sister gives a big smile and shakes her head, and this actually surprises him. a genuine smile he didn't have to work for? hm.

"this is ciara, she's my buddy from business. we've got these super complex new assignments that we should work together on." amber surprises herself with this answer, usually she never finds an excuse to have somebody over. hell, the fact that she's brought an outsider into their sanctuary is an incredible sight. "and we thought maybe chinese tonight? i'm living for some chow mein." 

and with that, she walks her company into her bedroom and shuts the door behind them. she feels like one of those teenagers in the early nineties movies - annoying brother in her business, having to shut him out so she can talk with her friend. it's a strange feeling, yet a comforting one. i'm getting normal, she tells herself. well, not perfectly normal, really. just normal-er.

"would i be a bad friend if i told you your brother's fly as fuck?" her friend murmurs aloud, making a shocked giggle come out. she was actually incredibly used to this, and she was surprised that ciara had come over not to just hit on her brother. it's truly a surprise, and she's actually grateful that she's been blessed with this angels presence. "cause, like, i don't wanna be that friend, but i don't think i can keep my hands off him if he's that fly."

"no, no, actually. i'm pretty used to it, i was the only one in the family who didn't get the pretty genes," she laughs softly, and watching her classmates face contort in such pain makes her feel guilty for speaking so poorly about herself. "well, this is my place. feel free to explore, i guess." ciara seems hesitant after such a low remark from the newly surfacing girl with the bubbly and bright personality, however she indeed looks around her room. she spots a rather used leather-bound notebook sat atop the dark oak dresser, and her curiosity peaks. so, she lifts the book and flips through the pages.

dozens of short limericks, extensive stanzas, and elegant prose is scattered across the slightly askew blue-pen lines drawn on the rough paper, and it all impresses her. the topics range from philosophy regarding the afterlife to the impact on the environment, but one certain poem catches her eye. titled 'thoughts to expand the simpler minds, or talking to myself'.

one day you opened up your eyes, inside of you 

inside a world, inside a universe you didn't get to choose. 

you didn't get to pick the rules, or pick the past, or set the pace or cast the cast and crew.

 you didn't get to pick your starting place, and though it was a race you didn't understand.

you simply lined up on the blocks and when the pistol popped, you ran.

and when you tripped and dropped you picked yourself up off the ground, picked your scabs you knew you had to pick a plan to end what you began.

as you got older, there were days of cold surrender, days of shrugged 'whatevers' folded in with days of shocking splendor 

but as time advanced the lovely days were covered up from view, by an advancing melancholy haze that hovered near the dew.

yet there were moments; there were these pure arresting moments when you stepped outside your head, 

outside your pain, 

outside control, 

outside the bullshit, 

out of body,