I am the one who writes this, with clenched lips, the keyboard all too untouched by my fingertips, As I sit and just wish. That I could easily write this, That the words would fly to my fingertips. That I could do this without clenches lips.
I am the one who climbs up all too high, only to realize the distance of the fall once I glimpse the sky. The clouds that seemed such permanent fixtures, fall away, leaving only a memory so quiet it is but a whisper.
As I leave behind where I once stood proud and tall I become aware of only the fall I fall down, down, down to the ground Crashing with so much and so little sound.
I tell myself that I'll get up again. But that doesn't help right then.
The mountain that reaches to the sky, It stands before me, just as high. But now I stand at it's base. Looking up towards its enourmas face.
Sitting on her pink bed, with the covers pushed aside, Cassie examined her nails. They were short, she realized. Still she'd found a pink bottle of nail polish and took the time to paint them. She blew on them, wishing they would dry faster. She could never really wait for them to dry, still she painted her nails. Giggling to herself, she picked up one of those teen magazines Jenny had left when she had come over. She flipped through the glossy pages, mesmerized by the glossy girls. They looked so much prettier than she. Sure, she had their blonde hair and blue eyes, but she had freckles. She scrunched up her nose as she remembered Jenny's offer. "You'll look so pretty," she whined as she sat on Cassie's bed, a pink case of makeup positioned beside her. Cassie stared at the sheets uncomfortably. "I'm fine..." she murmured.
No one was exactly sure when it had happened, but it had happened none the less. Maria Williams was dead. Her apartment stood empty, except for the signs of the struggle that had happened during the attempted arrest. Katherine Andrew’s walked across the bright living room, her heels crunching against the shards of broken glass that had once belonged to a vase. A vase, that she supposed had once belonged to a person.
For as long as she could remember she’d wanted her ties with Maria Williams to be severed, but now that they actually had been, now that they’d gotten the evidence, now that she had actually ordered this, she didn’t feel accomplished, or joyus, she just felt numb. An unsettling feeling stirred in her gut, as she traced her hands over a letter that lay on the coffee table.
It was cold, but the last traces of winter had faded from the meadow, drops of dew managed to replace the frost that had previously coated the grass. The sweet songs of birds filled the air, crisp, yet warm and familiar. They brought her back to memories of happier times, when she had known winters to last more than a month or two. Alas those seemed as distant, as the bird’s calls.
Far off the distant rush of a river that had newly broken through the ice mingled with the birds’ calls.
“Maria would have said it was music.” She muttered to herself absently. She shook her head. Maria wasn’t here, she was far off somewhere, delivering some speech, rallying some crowd all in the hopes it would change something. Katherine knew it wouldn’t change anything. Once upon a time, a long time ago, she would have said that was made her better, her ability to see through things, but now she wasn’t so sure.
If you're like me you haven't gone through anything like this yourself, but have been viewer to other people going through something like this. It's always hard to understand no matter what role you have.
A family sits down to dinner, with one empty chair.
I felt like doing something sort of humorous, and I love irony, but I always need to make a point. So here's five paragraphs on why the five paragraph essay format doesn't really help as much as it should,