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Pieces from the Past
PART 1
So, today I picked up my pen again....sat on the side of my bed, titling my head to my left side as my eyes met my pillow-scantily designed with teardrops as I reminisced.
So, today I picked up my pen again, after what felt like centuries. Before I picked it up, I got up from my bed where I had left watermarks on my pillow. I sat on the edge of the bed, cleaned my face with my palms, sighed heavily and headed to the sink to wash my face in an attempt to reduce the redness of my eyes and the sadness it carries.
Did it work? maybe, ‘cause as I sat on the edge of my bed and picked up my pen, my mom walked into my room, sitting right next to me. She came in holding her phone to show me certain pictures and you know, chit-chat. I forced my lips to fake the smiles as well as my vocal chords to fake the giggles; damn! I act so good- I thought to myself as she couldn’t see through the act.
Although, I certainly did not make eye contact despite washing the redness away, I could not wash away the puffiness. So, I tactically avoided her eyes-if our eyes were to meet, boy o boy would she know something’s up and I am in no mood to talk about it. A while after, she left and so did my everything’s fine countenance. Alas, I could sulk in the abyss of sadness I feel. I wish someone told me earlier how comfortable sadness can be.
So, today, I picked up my pen after what felt like a millennium and wrote down all that enveloped me for what I believe was an hour, yeah, an hour tops!
So, today I picked up my pen again....sat on the side of my bed, titling my head to my left side as my eyes met my pillow-scantily designed with teardrops as I reminisced.
So, today I picked up my pen again, after what felt like centuries. Before I picked it up, I got up from my bed where I had left watermarks on my pillow. I sat on the edge of the bed, cleaned my face with my palms, sighed heavily and headed to the sink to wash my face in an attempt to reduce the redness of my eyes and the sadness it carries.
Did it work? maybe, ‘cause as I sat on the edge of my bed and picked up my pen, my mom walked into my room, sitting right next to me. She came in holding her phone to show me certain pictures and you know, chit-chat. I forced my lips to fake the smiles as well as my vocal chords to fake the giggles; damn! I act so good- I thought to myself as she couldn’t see through the act.
Although, I certainly did not make eye contact despite washing the redness away, I could not wash away the puffiness. So, I tactically avoided her eyes-if our eyes were to meet, boy o boy would she know something’s up and I am in no mood to talk about it. A while after, she left and so did my everything’s fine countenance. Alas, I could sulk in the abyss of sadness I feel. I wish someone told me earlier how comfortable sadness can be.
So, today, I picked up my pen after what felt like a millennium and wrote down all that enveloped me for what I believe was an hour, yeah, an hour tops!
