This is my world
Colored with rainbows and sunshine
Colored with shadows and rain
This world is mine
Thriving with innovation
Thriving with deprivation
This world – internalized
Dying with old age and excitements
Dying with abuse and pollutants
Does it sound inappropriate?
The way I say your name
Does it feel inappropriate?
The way I kiss your lips
Do you know the taste
Of the forbidden
Why is it we crave what we should not have
I thought you were worth the thought. -thinkwithdepth
The needle pricked her skin. She hardly noticed. It is oddly extraordinary how mental pain can completely mask physical pain. She was deep in thought. She replayed the beautifully haunting events that had incurred a few weeks ago. The nurse yanked the needle from her skin along with the tube of blood she had drawn. “I’ll take this to the lab and we will give you a call letting you know your results,” the nurse said as she rushed out the door. She sat confused. Was she supposed to leave or wait for some other strange form of examination? She decided to wait a few minutes then leave if no one returned. Just as she came to this decision the doctor came in. “Oh good, I see you put the robe on, let’s go ahead and take a look then.” She began to shake again. How had something like love lead her to this? How could so-called passion lead to emotionless examination of her “forbidden parts.” Her mind wandered back to the cause of these events. She was laughing as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her close. He whispered to her, only her, “I love the sound of your laugh.” “Does this hurt,” the doctor’s quick and sharp words brought her back to reality. “No,” she answered. The doctor gathered his things, told her everything seems fine, and that she could go. As she rushed out the words of a nurse rang behind her, “we’ll call you with your results.” She glanced at her phone hoping he had text her. As she expected, no reply. He hadn’t said a word to her since that night. She walked towards the bus stop, tears filling her eyes. She thought it was love. She craved him. She thought he felt the same. They had met only two months ago, but she thought soulmates, or something like that, love each other quickly. The princess met the prince, immediately fell in love, and married a few days following, right? So where is he? Why has he not called or text? She stood at the bus stop. Noticed the man undressing her with his eyes, even though tears were falling down her face.
This is the second part of an ongoing short story serious I will be doing. The first story is called “Ever Since He Had Touched Her.”
Why do we have vices. Why do we crave mistakes. We want to act out. To get in trouble. Let’s stand out. Let’s get out. Let’s cry out. Can’t we feel that a mistake, the problem we form without a cause, it is merely a desire to escape the boundaries we feel we must live in. Is it necessary to escape? Maybe not for everyone. Maybe not for you, but for me, I need escape. I need panic. I need thrill. I need what others consider insanity. If I’m not jumping over the edge I’m not alive. Why? If I can’t expose the depth of who I am, do I exist? I feel as if I am not close to anything, including reality, if I can’t just bare my soul. I must make my self vulnerable. I must challenge the expectations that others hold because if I do not I feel as if I’m hiding. I wonder. I wonder if calm people are really just calm or if in reality they are just drowning who they are deep under the social structure they have been placed in. I used to. I was drowning. I could hardly breathe. I was overwhelmed, so underwhelmed. I could not meet my potential, couldn’t even reach for it because I was trying so hard to be who people wanted me to be. Is that you? Are you hiding? I want to pull you out. Give you air.