Nonfiction

the rat is still there

it lurks in the shadows

its claws scratch against the cold stone

the rat persists

it feasts on our true feelings

any sign of our true emotion -

If we can't be one, then we are none.

I wrote this short story poem thing and I really want to make it better but I don't know what to add or fix. Here it is:

The flowers died on a Monday.

The last thing that brought a smile to my lips was a school hallway interaction. A girl who I'd never seen passed me, and gave me the biggest smile. It quite literally felt like sunlight seeping to my core.

One thing that made me stop and wonder these past weeks is power lines, which is weird, I know, but I have a logical question too. Why did they put power lines above ground?

Something that makes me stop and wonder is the thought that everybody sees the world through their own perspective.

The last time I smiled was when I was sitting on my living room floor. I was on my living room floor smiling and laughing with my sister about how I need to get my grades up.

I’ve never believed in coincidences. The idea that things just happen because they happen has never fallen true in my mind. I’m more of an “everything happens for a reason” type of person.

A recluse and a homebody, little entices me to step outside like I do when water falls from the sky. The smell of fresh grass and wet pavement is magic to the senses. But the experience of being surrounded by it all is another.

To be quiet more. Be angry less. Watch shows and read books and listen to music people recommend to me, and not forget. Cry, without anxiety, embarrassment, fear or shame. Trust. Bite at the skin of my lips less. Sing more.

Wow, December again so soon?

What do I want to be when I get older? 

It’s only a matter of time before I’m an adult and on my own. 

But what profession will I have? 

How will I do on my own? 

Will it all be okay?