Intricately Ordinary

Tears blurred the keyboard as she sat down. She went through the motions of opening a new document robotically. Unseeing eyes looked at a blank page of white as thoughts raced through her head. Hesitantly at first, she laid her fingers upon the keyboard, feeling for the two lines on 'F' and 'J'- if she looked down, the tears would fall upon her keyboard- and finally, she typed.

"I hope it's harder for him to move on now that he knows I have a name."

Seeing that in black and white, knowing it's true and at the same time, feeling like she wished it wasn't, something began to break in her. The tiny 'snap' went unnoticed, as floodgates began to open.
"Something in me wants to take a vow of silence. I believe that if I'm dependent on no one, nothing can ever hurt me. Because, if you have no one to turn to- you also never have the need to move.
    And that seems easier."

Writing became an outlet. Every day, she would come home to another blank page. Her thoughts bled out through her fingers, becoming pixels on a screen. She reveled in the power she had over what was written, so different from life, where everything is affecting everything else and nothing is truly only hers. But this was. Is. Will forever be- just hers.

"I just feel like I'm trying to build a bridge I could never cross.
Which feels like a metaphor about my life I can't process because I put all my sadness and logic away so I wouldn't feel like crap anymore."

Reading her writing, she couldn't believe she could do this. She could type out her feelings and insecurities and not be judged by anyone. Because how can someone judge what they don't know they don't know?
"My brain's blurred with excess emotions or nothing and I'm not really sure which."

As she looked back to her past words, she realized they were just memories. Nothing but a whisper of past emotion. Change had happened in her, without her knowing.
"I'm going to look back and scorn all the wasteful words that mean nothing, forgetting the time when they meant so much to me I wrote them down."

But it all came back. He came back. It felt like the world crashed down again, as past words came back to haunt her.
"I wish he'd never talk to me again.
I'm above quivering over keyboards.
I'm better than myself.
         They say."

Still shaking, she tries to steady her hands as floods of memories whip through her head, the final image cracking as emotion creates sobs.
"Maybe that will be my constant existence, always spent regretting my past."

She wonders if what she just wrote is true. Would the past always be a shadow right behind her? Or could she ever create a light bright enough so that even if it will never fade, it will lighten?
"And
      sometimes
               I worry I am not enough
                                       for myself, even."

Feeling very philosophical, she decided to try to create a quote. Something she believes describes humans. How she feels about life, something she thinks is true and sounds philosophical. Because thinking about philosophy and big questions takes her mind away from reality. At least for a little while.
"One thing's bad about living in the moment. I'm totally fine with where I am now, but I am going nowhere fast.
    We try to be the most important things we talk about."

Pessimism descends with a single word and thought. She was half-amused at how easily it can just enter a person's mind, pessimism.
"If my life were a story, I think it'd be called:
    Tales of Insignificance:
        A Guide to Nothing
              and Crazy People."

Waiting just drove her insane. And not knowing what it was she was waiting for drove her mad. Mad and insane,  a terrible combination to have in one's mind. But there you go, it's what she felt.
"I feel like I'm waiting for something to fall into place.
But I don't know what it is yet."

Walking around one night, the insomniac coming out to play. She stared up at the sky, then looked around before laying down. Nobody nearby, only the slightest breeze and grass tickling her back keeping her grounded. Keeping her from remember she's not flying among brilliant points of light, where she belongs.
"The stars are so beautiful here.
It's like nothing else in the world exists."

Tired of pessimism, tired of putting herself down, she decided she'll live up to being an outcast, being alone, being herself.
"I live in a town where I look like a hotshot, when really I'm nothing.
But someday, my every last word will be a treasure."

She's mature now. An adult she supposes. Graduated high school, finally. Relief sets in, then a mix of emotions, then finally it just all hits her. All she's done, all she's never done, and all she never will now. She's facing reality. But it's harsh.
"Sometimes it takes things a while to seep in. They start out at a remote part of your bloodstream, until they spread, poisoning your whole body. Like emotions you aren't supposed to (don't really) feel. I miss when it was simple."





She's seen so much now, lived a little finally herself. But she's scared. Because "the scariest silence is the one you don't hear" and she can't hear a word.