Sweet Nothing

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
I couldn't adapt hold on, I just kept on falling.

Submitted: April 05, 2014

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Submitted: April 05, 2014

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Sweet Nothing

 

 

Clouds are blank dreams in the sky. Everyday I count the clouds and fill them in with a dream of my own. I tell myself that if I can put all that I have into a place where no one can reach my dreams are sure to come true, but it’s been five years since I’ve even had a little faith in myself let alone the clouds in the sky, or even my own blood. I guess one might say that everything went wrong for me; I’m just damaged goods, and that may be true considering the fact  that the girl I used to be had an image that not even a miracle could restore. If miracles even existed they’d never waste their time on me, I’ve already done enough time wasting on my own, which is how I ended up so low. I’m almost dead. I don’t sleep, yet I do sleep, all the time in fact, but it doesn’t feel like I’m sleeping at all. All I do is waste time, time just keeps running out, and I’d like to say that I succeed in waking up everyday, but I don’t. I touch, I feel, I smell, I hear; everything that I do that feels real isn’t real, it can’t be real because the last time I ever felt something so intoxicating was when I could dream, and a dream is merely a deformed version of what someone might call a reality. If there is a reality. So you see I stopped depending on the clouds to carry my baggage because all they did was sink to the ground, and at night they weren’t there anymore, all of my dreams, they were gone. The sky was blank, nearly as blank as my insides, and as black as my heart with specks of light that I used to call hope, but turned out to be stars that would disappear when morning came. Its a cycle really; nothing ever lasts, and people never change, all that changes is their surroundings, and their ability to adapt to change. I couldn’t adapt. I couldn’t bring myself to believe that after dark I would find something better in the sky because I never was a good person, I was simply a delusion. Everything, anything that I ever worked at, all it was was sweet nothing, something to keep me happy for a moment, something to keep me from dying inside… something to save another day of my life, but what happens when those lights in the sky die out? What happens when you can’t sleep? What happens when the only thing you can feel is your own blood soaking the cloud that you call yours, and you feel yourself slipping once again, except this time you don’t pick yourself up, you fall. Nothing happens. Nothing can happen. Nothing was sweet, and all I did was fall. I kept falling until I saw the stars, and now I cling to the light and I can only hope that I become someone’s dream. And hopefully they don’t fall for me, they soar. 


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