I often feel the need to document my internal monologue, in hopes I will find the answers in the pages I have mindlessly written on whim and filled with my thoughts that shouldn't belong there.
I have this image in my head, that I'm running, and its cold and grey outside, and it feels like I'm the only one in a deserted city. I feel my thoughts spill out and I leave a trail behind me, only I'm the only one who can make sense of the mess I leave behind. I have to know how to untangle the thoughts, so that nobody trips or gets caught in them while walking past me. It's a hustle and it takes a very long time, so I usually give up running to sit on the sidewalk and try untangling my thoughts. But then I also bother others who want to walk down the road. I take my big clump of tangled thoughts and go where I cant bother anyone, because they've already passed that point in life.
I go to the cemetery and sit there. Only now I have lost motivation, so I lay down on the ground and let the weeds sway gently beside my head, as the wind blows through them. Its nice and silent here, where I don't bother anyone, and no one can be bothered to bother me. I look at the sad, misty sky and think hmmmm... I don't like that shade of grey .I turn my head towards the headstones " I don't like that shade of grey either".
I look down at my clothes and sigh, the world just seems to become greyer and greyer everyday, and should bother me, but it doesn't anymore. I try to remember the colours. They were very pretty, especially that pretty blue the sky got sometimes.
I look up again, and let my mind wonder on the cold greyish fields of nothingness, secretly wishing something would bother me so I didn't have to look at it anymore. Funny how you can change so quickly, it feels like I've been here all afternoon. When I look down at myself, I don't see gray anymore, which bothers me. I don't feel the gusts of wind or the soft brushes of the weeds along my arms anymore, and that bothers me. Why cant I see anything ? Well, I guess it's not that much of a loss anyways, I never really liked that shade of grey.
YOU ARE READING
letters to nobody
Short Storysometimes you feel like you're the only person in the world, stuck in your own mind, and that's terribly overwhelming. I write letters to nobody so I can chase away that feeling, but maybe someone will read them and find the beauty in being lost wit...