BeautyxCorr
"Haven't you ever thought of writing something real?" Looking towards the repetitive black lines, I shrugged. "Something you can relate to?" His gaze held heavily towards the tip of my pen. "Someone 'they' can relate to." After defensively denying his helpfulness, a lone sigh escapes his lips . "Well.. if there's one thing I know, you can't live life through black and white pages. Reality influences the depth of inspiration, no matter how dark, no matter light; it becomes the final shade of acceptance about ourselves. You can't live within the shadows of your mind forever."
Turning to face him wasn't as easy in this moment, especially when trying to ground my tears back into my skull. But, he had already turned to leave. And I, stubborn with pride, remained seated. Catching a glimpse of a piece of torn paper from my notebook across from me, I finally let the belated liquid fall down my cheek. It had only been a single moment between our departure; and yet, I longed for a single moment more as I read the contents written on the, now blurred, coffee-ring stained, black lines. "Open the door. It's time." Crushing the balled-up, wad of paper tightly into my fist, his gaze held past that moment as I returned to the present one across from the street corner. I didn't want to accept any of this, any of him. Nor, would I anything about myself. I absolutely couldn't until then.