Princess of the night

Chapter 8

Asha pov:

"Don't you feel tired and alone of running all the time?" I look up to the familiar man who's holding my shoulders making sure that I don't fall, just seconds ago I bumped into the man I've been running from for months now. Each time that he came close I ran, forcing myself to wake up. I take a step back and turn around. I don't want to be around him. He must hate me. "Please do not run away Asha" his voice is soft, almost pleading...it makes my heart ache with guilt. I want to speak to him, to tell him I'm sorry for bothering but I can't. I'm a possessed fucked up human trying to follow Jesus and he is an endless being....for which I only cause trouble. I set a few steps back and suddenly I'm in a room, one familiar, the tiles are cold on my bare feet. I turn around "why did you do that?!" I glare at the man, who's looking back a bit hurt. But still emotionless. "Because I wanted to talk" "I don't" I turn to walk away again but he grabs my arm, forcing me to turn around, I stare at the man in disbelief, "let. Me. Go" "not until you answer my question" his voice is soft but demanding. I roll my eyes, why can't he just leave it? "What?" "Aren't you feeling tired and alone of running all the time?" He frowns as he's taking in my face, how I respond to his question, I look away. Why does he care so much? Of course im alone, It feels like I don't belong anywhere, and it's not just because people tread me like I'm a burden, or because I don't think I'm good at anything, heck I know I'm good at certain things, and I know there are people out there that want me, I just need to find them. but it never feels enough and maybe it's because I know I don't belong in this world. It feels distant to me, maybe even strange, like a picture that's forced to hang on the wall at a restaurant, never moving yet always seeing the other things move, it's stuck. People drown themselves in the picture when eating and listening to a boring story of a relative they only see once in a while, the painting tells a story that's enjoyable for a few, when no one else is interesting enough and they feel alone. and then it's alone again. It's special, it's unique and can tell a billion story's, but no one sticks around long enough the listen, to feel, to get to know...I feel his eyes burn, waiting for an awnser of the girl deep in thoughts. My body feels unreal and my mind from a place far away from here. Like I'm a person that travelled trough time and now is stuck here...in one big nightmare, with demons pestering her, which she can't escape from a lot of people grow out of believing in magic, fantasying about being a knight or a princess, but I can't seem to stop believe it. There must be a bigger purpose for me? Right? For everyone? And a great adventure waiting? I look up to the ceiling filled with the night sky of the universe, I breath out a little. I like to look up at the ceiling, the sky, everything but down below. Because up there, magic is real, wether it be the light that forms weird creatures or the clouds in the sky telling a story, it's far and wide! The night sky is the most special to me. The stars shine so bright, like a room filled with dancing people, In these old medieval castles. And I long to be there, up in the sky, maybe then I would be free. Or perhaps getting lost in a Forrest where I make a wrong turn and I would end up meeting people that are like me. Not from this world but forced to be in it. When I lay down, and look up to the sky, sometimes I stretch my hand up as far as I can, the light falls on my scars and I realise that I'm damaged goods, not good enough for anything, and I know this world isn't made for damaged stuff, damaged stuff always gets thrown out, because they can't function , yet I can't help but wish...perhaps even pray to be something more then damaged goods, I want....I want to be a great story teller. One that takes people from around the world into these story's, these adventures as great as themselves. Making them a different person once they finnished it, and maybe make them long for that place...that castle, the people. Maybe then I would be less alone? But it's my burden to carry, my curse to bare...he wouldn't understand what it's like to bare. Perhaps it is a curse to not belong in this world, have your head filled with great story's all of the time but no one to tell them to...perhaps that's the curse I'm born to bare, the one from my childhood, the one from my parents.... When you never really learn how to make connections, you won't grow up like them...at some point, imitating won't work anymore and you realise your stuck at an age your body past long, long ago....so now your stuck in a body that keeps aging with a mind that stays put. Maybe it's a blessing, to be able to tell story's so convincing, it gives people goosebumps and makes them cry...to create worlds only a child could think of ....but I'm not sure...in all honesty I still feel lost, like I don't belong anywhere...even in the groups that say everyone belongs I don't......I look down to my hands, the man let's my arm go, still waiting patiently as if he knows that I'm deep in thoughts and that I need that, just to breath a bit when fear and sadness and perhaps the loneliness become to much. Maybe he knows that deep down I simply need a parent, a person being there for me, asking the difficult questions, never getting tired of my running cause that's all I learned and he knows that breaking such a year old habit is difficult, maybe he knows that I feel so alone and never truly home because I belong everywhere....in all the worlds that are created in my head. Maybe the God above gave this up...for some people to be able to create like Him...or no...to create with words...never real. Or perhaps He gave it as a blessing, so He can tell His story of love to all...making sure everyone has a place in this world, whether or not you fit in...there are always people out there for you? But still it feels like I don't have a place at all. I guess it can be both a blessing and a curse, to be able to create and make story's in which people can hide and breath...and you are part of it all. I look up to him, taking a step back "Yes I feel alone" "then stop running and let people in" I shake my head no, he frowns a bit "why not?" "Because I can't"