white dog white river

When you get out, of here, I mean, you’ll feel different. Different like somebody keeping their christmas lights up until october and then taking them down on halloween and forgetting about the kids and the candy and the dark. Maybe it’s better that you did. 
There’s a far away barking ringing in your ears and you can’t figure out where it coming from so you ignore it instead of wasting time chasing something you can’t see. But you know it’s a dog, that’s the one thing you’re certain of, it’s a dog. 
       Your dad asks why you haven’t left the house in a month and you can’t really look at him because then it would be real, and you don’t think you’re ready to face the truth anymore. That’s the thing about truth, it’s always going to be there, smack in the middle of the intersection, cars honking and lights flashing because you can’t stand there right now. It’s always the same, back and forth and then back again, fighting for a forever you don’t think about. 
Brain activity doesn’t feel the same , it’s not january anymore and it won’t be for a long time, you told yourself you wouldn’t do this but you can’t keep a promise anymore then you can keep a thought. 
 There’s 76 rivers in the world and you’ve thought about meeting each one, hopefully at least once, maybe twice if it get’s bad again. You know it will. The walls sometimes seem to be closing in on you and it’s a feeling you get often, along with the ache for something you don’t have a name for and maybe their won’t be one.
                you sit by the window and you realize you don’t hear the dog anymore. 

 

chelseli

VT

YWP Alumni

More by chelseli

  • swim good


    Picture yourself in a subway station, great. Now, picture the people, the noise, the roar of the 2:30 departure. Now picture that you are alone, that there are no people, no noise, no roar of the 2:30 departure because there isn’t one.