english,
In the midst of the dissonance, the storm and the chaos, I try to find peace.
Everything feels suffocating, there are walls pressing in and incoherent noises.
It’s all my fault, isn’t it?
She was there. Warm, comforting, constant. A refuge. A safe haven from the turbulence.
She was there, at the right time, in the right place. She was bright when my light had turned dim. She was warm when the love I shared with another girl turned cold.
I didn’t mean to.
Things spiraled down. The girl who was my sunshine now feels like a cold breeze at night. We smiled and we sat close, but when I glanced at her – she seemed so much closer, so much warmer, unlike the one actually beside me. I looked away.
Further down. I had so much free time. Time to think. Time to wallow in the darkness of my horrible thoughts. All this time away from the girl who felt like home made me feel lost. The distance seemed more than physical, and I didn’t know what to do. But she was there. We met halfway and found a safe space between each other. I thought maybe she was the blanket who’d comfort me when I was away from home, but this one seemed so much more comfortable than home. I didn’t know what to feel.
Even further down. I can’t look at the eyes I used to be drawn by so much. Sweet words from her tasted bland, but for her – for her, even the most trivial and ordinary of words sounded special. This feeling shouldn’t be shared with her. I feel like suffocating whenever I see the smile I loved so much. I feel like dying whenever I see it genuinely directed at me. I don’t have the right to make her smile like that anymore. I don’t have the right to have her smile at me like that anymore, as if things were healing, as if things were getting better between us. It’s not.
Would have all of this happened if there hadn’t been someone in our time of turbulence? Would we have healed and not let things happen? Would she still have felt like home if I hadn’t met her?
Chaos. Storms. Dissonance. There’s salt in my eyes and bitterness on my tongue. Guilt. Despair. Hate. Was this her fault for being there at the right time and at the right place, or was it my fault for letting it all happen?
Down. Down. Down. I can’t get any lower than this. I look at her properly for the first time in weeks. She’s right to look back at me with apprehension. She anticipated it, but her walls still broke. I broke it. The flimsy handkerchief I try to offer her is a disgustingly useless attempt at an apology. She doesn’t accept it.
Guilt. Fear. Relief. I turn around with a final apology and head back to my new home. To the one whose brightness outshone what used to be my sunshine. To the one whose warmth now envelops me in an attempt to relieve the guilt eating me alive. A whispered “I’m sorry” reaches my ears. I shake my head with a
“No, I’m sorry” and a faint smile as I turn to look at her.
Literary: Downhill (I'm Sorry)
In the midst of the dissonance, the storm and the chaos, I try to find peace.
Everything feels suffocating, there are walls pressing in and incoherent noises.
It’s all my fault, isn’t it?
She was there. Warm, comforting, constant. A refuge. A safe haven from the turbulence.
She was there, at the right time, in the right place. She was bright when my light had turned dim. She was warm when the love I shared with another girl turned cold.
I didn’t mean to.
Things spiraled down. The girl who was my sunshine now feels like a cold breeze at night. We smiled and we sat close, but when I glanced at her – she seemed so much closer, so much warmer, unlike the one actually beside me. I looked away.
Further down. I had so much free time. Time to think. Time to wallow in the darkness of my horrible thoughts. All this time away from the girl who felt like home made me feel lost. The distance seemed more than physical, and I didn’t know what to do. But she was there. We met halfway and found a safe space between each other. I thought maybe she was the blanket who’d comfort me when I was away from home, but this one seemed so much more comfortable than home. I didn’t know what to feel.
Even further down. I can’t look at the eyes I used to be drawn by so much. Sweet words from her tasted bland, but for her – for her, even the most trivial and ordinary of words sounded special. This feeling shouldn’t be shared with her. I feel like suffocating whenever I see the smile I loved so much. I feel like dying whenever I see it genuinely directed at me. I don’t have the right to make her smile like that anymore. I don’t have the right to have her smile at me like that anymore, as if things were healing, as if things were getting better between us. It’s not.
Would have all of this happened if there hadn’t been someone in our time of turbulence? Would we have healed and not let things happen? Would she still have felt like home if I hadn’t met her?
Chaos. Storms. Dissonance. There’s salt in my eyes and bitterness on my tongue. Guilt. Despair. Hate. Was this her fault for being there at the right time and at the right place, or was it my fault for letting it all happen?
Down. Down. Down. I can’t get any lower than this. I look at her properly for the first time in weeks. She’s right to look back at me with apprehension. She anticipated it, but her walls still broke. I broke it. The flimsy handkerchief I try to offer her is a disgustingly useless attempt at an apology. She doesn’t accept it.
Guilt. Fear. Relief. I turn around with a final apology and head back to my new home. To the one whose brightness outshone what used to be my sunshine. To the one whose warmth now envelops me in an attempt to relieve the guilt eating me alive. A whispered “I’m sorry” reaches my ears. I shake my head with a
“No, I’m sorry” and a faint smile as I turn to look at her.
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