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Far From Home
The roads seemed to stretch longer than they really were, but my mind had never felt so narrow—I didn't want to look at this as a positive change. The car drove smoothly over the steamy tar, it's as if the tires were about to break into thin air and fly away... But the drive itself seems to be going so slow. My mind won't stop prancing back and fourth, flashbacks of yesterday when I was happily resting in my bed at home are keeping me in this negative frame of mind.
I tip the man in front of the wheel and take my bag from the trunk, after the sound of the door slamming, the driver was off. Dust and clouds of sand trail from his treaded wheels, eager to leave me behind.
The door is opened as it welcomes me into its walls, decorated with a dull green floral wallpaper. The room presented to me is rather big for just one person, it's better than being too small. The wheels of my luggage bag squeak their way towards the big bed, large enough to fit a family in. The polished oak door engraved with flowers, closes to my satisfaction and allowing me to release the huge amount of air in my lungs.
With my lungs compressing entirely comes a delicate flow of partially salty substance, descending downwards. The substance makes its way to the edge of my jaw and drips off, towards the palm of my hand that rested upon the luggage that lay. I wipe away the wetness upon my eyes, not caring if it messed up my make-up. I breathe slowly, calming the abnormal, yet expected, ache in my chest. My hand reaches for it squeezing the fabric of my blue blouse till it felt like it had made a difference, but alas, it hadn't.
A soft yet powerful and alarming chirp comes from the wide and lengthy window to my left, the fright it caused me had me looking in its direction. A fellow little robin sits wagging its tail at the windowsill, looking very inviting to pet. My damp eyelashes blink at the sight of the pretty bird, right before it shook its tail and flew away. I approach the window with wobbly steps as I felt my knees trembling, but then I was met with the overwhelming view that stands proudly before me; the lakes being showed with birds of multiple breeds, the rays of sunlight feeding the colourful flowerbeds, the cute little houses that sat next to each other looking nearly identical, and the blueness of the sky overtaking the clouds.
But why did this not appeal to my eyes? Why did this not excite me? Why doesnt this give off the feeling I expected and needed so desperately? The ache in my chest abruptly comes back as it completely overtakes my body in seconds, forcing me to collapse to the floor upon my knees and grabbing my chest as a response. The salty substance comes back like rivers towards the floor boards that creaked with my leg adjustments, I grab hold of my knees and let the liquid roll down either of them. The hopes of letting all the liquid out would make things better, deteriorated along with my bravery as the ache only seemed to get worse.
My hands shook as they tried to hold onto my knees but could no longer bare it, letting go for me to sit back and look at myself. My knees have long stretched wet patches down them, my blouse has become wrinkled and sat untidily, my hands are filled with the mascara and eyeliner that once sat beautifully upon my face, and it was as though at that moment, I could see the red light beaming from my chest sorrowfully.
Shivers ran down my body as I got up straight and walked to the mirror that hanged alongside my large canopy bed, and as soon as my image came to view I knew, Id have to get used to seeing myself this way. My eyes are in need of a plumber, my hair is in need of boy cut, my clothes are in need of trading, my heart is need of mending and my life is in need of change. This is the change, this place is that change. The comfort I felt elsewhere cannot be regained but has to be forgotten, along with the place I had just yesterday.
Home, is not a word defined by décor, wallpapers, furniture or a neighbourhood. But defined by the people you are with, but how can you see home with people if you're the only one left? How can you live at all without that comfort and safety? I excel at my job and assume it'll find that exact comfort and safety once again, but what if I cannot? It's miles and miles away and a few feet into the ground, fresh grass grow over the damp wet sand and is accompanied by a neatly engraved stone.
I cannot regain that, and I hoped the place I lived yesterday would be okay, but it isn't It wasn't meant to be a constant reminder but it turned out being just that, the place I wanted to stay in always for comfort of my loss only brought it back. Every day I'd wake up to the same bird at my window and the same warmth lying next to me, with us both tangled in sheets with messy hair and croaky morning voices, looking our worst actually but that was happiness. That's the happiness I want back, but no one can replace this kind of happiness, it's a rare and unpredictable kind.
I straighten up my slouched figure and open up my chest for the ache to ease, the ache wasn't there to make it worse but to be that comfort. It's healthy to let it out.
The sun set on my first day in this big, spacious house, while I sat peering out of the window of my bedroom. My freshly washed white robe covered my sensitive skin from the cold air that seeps in through the closed window, my mind hadn't stopped drifting through the many oceans of memories but this time it wasn't in a negative or sad way. A new start is in need, that's for sure. Memories are memories, they're beautiful and treasured monuments that only you can see tell, and especially, recall, when you're far from home.
I tip the man in front of the wheel and take my bag from the trunk, after the sound of the door slamming, the driver was off. Dust and clouds of sand trail from his treaded wheels, eager to leave me behind.
The door is opened as it welcomes me into its walls, decorated with a dull green floral wallpaper. The room presented to me is rather big for just one person, it's better than being too small. The wheels of my luggage bag squeak their way towards the big bed, large enough to fit a family in. The polished oak door engraved with flowers, closes to my satisfaction and allowing me to release the huge amount of air in my lungs.
With my lungs compressing entirely comes a delicate flow of partially salty substance, descending downwards. The substance makes its way to the edge of my jaw and drips off, towards the palm of my hand that rested upon the luggage that lay. I wipe away the wetness upon my eyes, not caring if it messed up my make-up. I breathe slowly, calming the abnormal, yet expected, ache in my chest. My hand reaches for it squeezing the fabric of my blue blouse till it felt like it had made a difference, but alas, it hadn't.
A soft yet powerful and alarming chirp comes from the wide and lengthy window to my left, the fright it caused me had me looking in its direction. A fellow little robin sits wagging its tail at the windowsill, looking very inviting to pet. My damp eyelashes blink at the sight of the pretty bird, right before it shook its tail and flew away. I approach the window with wobbly steps as I felt my knees trembling, but then I was met with the overwhelming view that stands proudly before me; the lakes being showed with birds of multiple breeds, the rays of sunlight feeding the colourful flowerbeds, the cute little houses that sat next to each other looking nearly identical, and the blueness of the sky overtaking the clouds.
But why did this not appeal to my eyes? Why did this not excite me? Why doesnt this give off the feeling I expected and needed so desperately? The ache in my chest abruptly comes back as it completely overtakes my body in seconds, forcing me to collapse to the floor upon my knees and grabbing my chest as a response. The salty substance comes back like rivers towards the floor boards that creaked with my leg adjustments, I grab hold of my knees and let the liquid roll down either of them. The hopes of letting all the liquid out would make things better, deteriorated along with my bravery as the ache only seemed to get worse.
My hands shook as they tried to hold onto my knees but could no longer bare it, letting go for me to sit back and look at myself. My knees have long stretched wet patches down them, my blouse has become wrinkled and sat untidily, my hands are filled with the mascara and eyeliner that once sat beautifully upon my face, and it was as though at that moment, I could see the red light beaming from my chest sorrowfully.
Shivers ran down my body as I got up straight and walked to the mirror that hanged alongside my large canopy bed, and as soon as my image came to view I knew, Id have to get used to seeing myself this way. My eyes are in need of a plumber, my hair is in need of boy cut, my clothes are in need of trading, my heart is need of mending and my life is in need of change. This is the change, this place is that change. The comfort I felt elsewhere cannot be regained but has to be forgotten, along with the place I had just yesterday.
Home, is not a word defined by décor, wallpapers, furniture or a neighbourhood. But defined by the people you are with, but how can you see home with people if you're the only one left? How can you live at all without that comfort and safety? I excel at my job and assume it'll find that exact comfort and safety once again, but what if I cannot? It's miles and miles away and a few feet into the ground, fresh grass grow over the damp wet sand and is accompanied by a neatly engraved stone.
I cannot regain that, and I hoped the place I lived yesterday would be okay, but it isn't It wasn't meant to be a constant reminder but it turned out being just that, the place I wanted to stay in always for comfort of my loss only brought it back. Every day I'd wake up to the same bird at my window and the same warmth lying next to me, with us both tangled in sheets with messy hair and croaky morning voices, looking our worst actually but that was happiness. That's the happiness I want back, but no one can replace this kind of happiness, it's a rare and unpredictable kind.
I straighten up my slouched figure and open up my chest for the ache to ease, the ache wasn't there to make it worse but to be that comfort. It's healthy to let it out.
The sun set on my first day in this big, spacious house, while I sat peering out of the window of my bedroom. My freshly washed white robe covered my sensitive skin from the cold air that seeps in through the closed window, my mind hadn't stopped drifting through the many oceans of memories but this time it wasn't in a negative or sad way. A new start is in need, that's for sure. Memories are memories, they're beautiful and treasured monuments that only you can see tell, and especially, recall, when you're far from home.
