her | chaennie

I: pain in sunsets

putting the cigarette between her fingers, jennie took a slow drag, closed her eyes as the smoke entered her lungs. the bitter taste in her lips seemed to calm her down, even for a short time.

she forced a deep swallow as she was aware of how parched and sandpaper-like her throat felt. she continued to take hits until she could feel the scalding heat through the filter. she stopped at that point and threw the cigarette out into the balcony.

a total of 27 sticks. that undoubtedly sets a record.

her chapped lips let out a strained chuckle. she could feel the reality beginning to set in. she observed as the sun gradually set and painted the horizon with ephemeral hues. it's one of her favorites.. or was.

she stared at it for what seemed like an eternity in efforts to recapture the warm, soothing feeling it had provided. it was gone, and the sunset hurt.

sunsets weren't supposed to hurt.

it was supposed to make her happy—the thought of tomorrow's opportunities, undiscovered passions, and the world's hidden beauty all hers for the taking. it used to bring her peace—the idea of a fresh start to right all the wrongs, to give back to the world, another day closer to discovering her true self.

where did it all go?
the love, the burning passion, the thirst for knowledge and the unending desire to thrive.

where did she go wrong that she didn't notice the magic in her bones seeping through the cracks until it was gone?

until there was nothing left but a deep, hollow space within her heart that was once a sunflower garden. until she found herself in the dark, searching for what she had lost but couldn't remember. until she stood in front of a mirror, staring at her naked, frail body, stealing glances through the windows of her eyes, desperately trying to find remnants of her soul, only to be met by a stranger.

she felt robbed.
and she knew exactly who the culprit was.

roseanne.

she changed because of her- no, she changed for her.

she stopped building walls, showed her the map to the unforgiving labyrinth within. she gave her the keys to all the doors and led her straight to the dungeon's pit, where her prized possessions—her past, dreams, secrets, and deepest pain—were hidden.

she laid everything out for her. gave everything to her.

anything she could offer. anything she wanted. and anything roseanne wanted, jennie was happy to provide. she loved her.

too much for one lifetime it seems.

coffee, pancakes and reading good books with her. morning workouts. random strolls at the park. running around stomping on crunchy leaves. the warmth of sunshine on their intertwined fingers.

ice creams. cloud watching. laughing so hard at silly jokes until their stomach hurt. dogs getting excited as they walk by. the smell of grass. her hair brushing against jennie's cheek. attempting new recipes and failing miserably.

breakfasts in bed. dressing up fancy only to stay at home. dancing by the kitchen counter. staring at the blue sky. stories they share under the shade of trees.

lunch dates. stolen kisses behind library bookshelves. road trips. skinny dipping. screaming their frustrations down a cliff until they felt better. kayaking. picnic dates. small surprises.

their first snowfall together. snuggling by the fireplace, hot chocolates, dancing in the rain, the sweet, musky scent of spring, their naked bodies tangled up underneath her favorite blanket.