>•~Falling Upwards~•<

Chapter Fourteen: Stop Thinking.

A/N: Hi hi!! Just a reminder that you are loved, and that you are important <33

https://images.app.goo.gl/VfGWHUFefNrc96PL9 (https://images.app.goo.gl/VfGWHUFefNrc96PL9)

(I dunno if that link actually shows what I want to show; its a cute lil kitten in a box!

Also no, the photo/ gif is not mine haha

Alsooo the stars from Chapter Twelve~ The Stars are Dead and Chapter Thirteen~ A Letter of Hope inspiration come from my beastie's book, "Dreams Who Never Come True" which is an AWESOME book that I definitely recommend you go ahead and read!

——

One word,
Two words,
Three words,
Four words,
Five words.

One word;
Many words.
How many words?
I don't know.
Too many words,

Six words,
Seven words,
Eight words,
Nine words,
Ten words.

One word;
Many words.
How many words?
I don't know.
Too many words.

——

"Hmm," I begin to hum to myself.

I flip my paper on the backside. I wish to continue to draw onto this side. However, the ink had already begun to seep through to this side. If I draw on here, it will ruin my drawing.

I need that drawing. Just in case if I were to ever... Forget. Forget the few true memories I have. The true memories that I have been told are not real, but they just are.

I know the trek to remembering again can come with difficulties. A flash of that dagger that still scars me comes to mind. No journey even has a smooth ride. This one may come with challenges.

I know the risks. I know the pain that will come, or at least I believe I do. I just feel entitled to find out who I was. I just do; maybe in a hope that I might become brave again, just like my old self.

I sigh. I look around for another paper. My eyes gaze around the room. There is nothing. The room is silent. Not even noise can come in here. Outside there is noise, and sound. I can feel it.

I don't want to go outside, though. I have work to do inside. On myself, and on the house. I have spent enough time on myself. So, I get up.

I slide the little ink tray over the paper. This is so that if a sudden breeze decides to make its rampage over here, that my work will not get destroyed. I remember watching a paper dance in the breeze. Someone held my hand, and squeezed it tightly.

Whoever held my hand had been younger than me. Whoever he, or she, had been was scared. Once again, the old me had been there for them. She had been there, in ways I know that the person who I am not could never have been.

That is why I need to find my old self. I need to figure out who I was. I need to learn how to dream. I need to teach others how to dream.

Once there was life in this world. There were hopes, and wishes. These were carried on the backs of people who knew how to work hard, and to make their dreams a reality. If I can bring the dreams back here, then maybe the world will be full of life again.

I still am unaware of how our world fell into disarray. The old world must have been so beautiful. All that is left here is hate, and death. Along with the fiery sun.

Maybe I will pester one of the two outside on this again. Then again, they seem so far away. My excuses for not asking them are not excuses anymore. I was scared of annoying them. Now I just, I just can't.

They are in their own world. There are many different worlds. Theirs is not mine. For now, at least. Hmm, "at least". What would that mean?

I shake my head. I grab a small towel off of the side of the table. I use this to wipe away any dust that clouds here. Swoosh, swoosh. It dances across the soft wooden surface.

"Swoosh, swoosh," I hum this tune now: "Swoosh, swoosh,"

Swoosh myself away. I spin across the room. A sharp pang to my abdomen reminds me of my foolishness. I am healing, but this does not mean I am healed. If I pick at my scabs, then how am I ever supposed to fix my wounds?

I land by a window. I begin to swipe my towel over the glass. Swoosh, swoosh. Swoosh, swoosh. Outside is a world different than inside. Not the outside in the backyard. No, this is the outside and into the sand.

I gazed out into it. My wiping has made a clear portal to a place I do not want to go. I was once there. That is where I came from. To take fatal st
eps back to where I came, is a horrid mistake.