8:56 : House

Sad Girl:

It's raining. The drops fall softly against the ground; pitter patter. A lullaby.

The entire room is draped in black; a perfect fit. All I can see is the bright green that pierces the black from the X-box light. A hazy beacon. The window drapes give off a blurry noise, pale against dark, teasing me. Or laughing at me.

When I step nearer to the window, I see the lights behind the drapes glowing. A little piece of outside peers at me from the side. I hesitate. When I open it entirely, I see the familiarity of my front house staring back at me. The rain falls softly, and the sky shines purple. It reminds me of the snow we received in December. But now the grass reflects bright florescent light at me. A car in the street yells red, and at the same time, gives up. From the side I see the concrete embraced in gray shadows.

I pull back, my heart pounding widly in my chest. It beats light a drum, but feels like an anchor. I have the sudden urge to cry, but nothing comes out. It is a useless cause. You wouldn't know what that is. It is a feeling of hopelessness, the quick surprising sense of loss, of defeat. It echoes of regret, a sorrow too great to know, of love that crumbles away like dust forgotten. The ringing of bell high, pitching across the world back to where it started. It is like all the things you ever loved are flung back at you, dust in your eyes and needles in your heart. The whispers of empty promises and memories that stab at wounds. A heart forgotten.

I can't tell who this is for. For myself, I suppose.

I lean my head against the sofa and close my eyes, feeling it wash over me. Everyday I get more tired; everyday I die. Every day is a day without direction. When I tell my father nothing matters anymore, he looks at me like I'm crazy. But he has to understand. I know he does.

He turns away and I know: he doesn't.

When my eyes are open, I imagine Elysian Fields. And when I close my eyes, all I see is the flash of silver and the thin red lines that wash away in water.