I pondered over the thought of decaying morbidly into an array of colors not yet known to myself. The sheer light spreading over one's body, encasing it and pulling it down so tightly yet carefully as if dragged along by the rope of a puppeteer. Where shall it take me? Behold, one self's mind crippling every movement with careful precision: tracking like a movement in the wind. The sincere direction of which way the body moves as it loses hope progressively becoming nothing more, but a corpse embraces my mind like an incurable disease. Where shall the adventures of life drag my soul once there is nothing more but bones? Which path will I be forced to endure throughout the glimmer of what is unknown to the population but classified as the afterlife? Drawn to the crisp flame everlasting in the darkness of the hopeless thoughts that transpired- digging into my flesh like a barbed wire atop a prison wall. Will I become but a reflection to those after me, with my eyes sunk into a painting as I follow the ones I love for generations? Or will I become a swan, surfacing the lake of beauty to make it a cherished moment? Whichever path entices me so, it will be the day I decide to let go. The rope sank into my palms like a rash, perching outside in the fiery rays of the sun for far too long. Losing track of time or losing track of myself? The cold that was once biting at my hands and face, exposed to the wintery mix of life no longer served as one of the many weights on my shoulders.
The warmth of the sunlight- replaced by the familiar sense of emptiness. From here, I am left to only keep my head lifted high and traverse the worn path of life until there is no more to appreciate. Faintness overwhelmed me, blanketing me in her love and forgiveness for all I've done wrong. Hesitant to get wrapped around her finger, imagining I'd never be able to reawaken from her touch and instead be consumed by longing. Replacing each one of my fears with her kindness, clutching my hand in her own and reminding me that the darkness is just one of life's obstacles and although may seem permanent at times and inescapable, that I can find my head back above the water to keep myself from losing consciousness. Even a poisoned mind can find redemption. A shudder of coldness snapped me back into a realm of which I cannot locate familiarity.
Permanency is outlined by the serene outlasting of the drawstring bag hanging above the mantle of the fireplace, drawn together by the leathery cushioning of the sofas wrapped around it. The aroma tightly bound the place together- the prominent scent of candy canes, a sweetness that wept over you like a crying woman. A momentous occasion, tied perfectly by a ribbon of anxiousness. Cinnamon enchants the air, suffocating those inhaling it. The trees extend their hands out towards you from the window to the left of the rather small room, shaking off the snow off their branches. The day dragged on, as the sun peeked out to wave hello and kiss the trees that were cold. Her face blanched under the moonlight, enticing the waves that hit the shore by her feet. She was in all different places at once, reminding me of my position in my life at all times.
To the blaring beeping noise to the left of her bedside, she was awoken as if sleep had kept her glued to the bed. Her arms swung over the right side of the bed, and her eyes caught the familiar tasteless bleach white ceiling staring down at her. And in an instant, she caught their attention too, calling out to them in the empty hospital room. "What are you looking at?! T-They're watching me! Tell them to stop! Tell them to stop!" She screamed and sat up from the bed abruptly, the needles taped to her arm being ripped off as she did as she winced. She cried out and stood up, nearly stumbling over from her legs being caught up and dreadfully weakened from the prior escapades that led her there. The chart hanging on the wall painfully showcased every fragile detail of her records. To them, she was nothing but a nuisance. A knot tied too tightly around her neck that would never suffocate her for once. Her eyes scanned the room for any signs of life, as her screaming quieted down. Ruby grasped for the edge of the hospital bed, sitting up and dangling her legs off the side of it. Her eyes followed the wall up to the ceiling, where she remembered the frail cracks in the building eyeing her. As the lights on the ceiling dimmed, she stood up on weak legs. She extended her hands to reach for the wall to avoid falling completely over. As she slowly walked, she kept her palms placed on the walls. The water was rising the bottle she held against her lips, for the water attempted to flood her insides and make her filled with the familiar sensation of satisfaction, and yet it did not. Concealed like a weapon lying on its back within her sleeve was one needle not yet revealed to the world. Her eyes enticed the looks of the faint onlookers she thought she had seen in the distance. Warily enough, she could not remember the faces of those she held dear to her heart. More so, it was blank and fuzzy. Like the thoughts that raced in her head but were confined like inmates scrambling around to make it to lunch. Her thoughts were met with dead leads; her concept of reality reflected nothing more than the hospital room around her. The white dentist-like area, smelling heavily of mixed chemicals. She had promised to leave it be, the bottle that stood upon the nightstand near the bed, but her curiosity overwhelmed her now her instincts to explore were in the proximity. Was she dancing in her illusions, delusional as ever and yet still more aware than the ones that surrounded her? Her mind was wandering off, and she shook her head to be back where she was. Ah yes, the hospital room. An empty excuse of an area to treat those viewed as sickened by the population. And with what? Sickened with a lack of morals and goals so she was placed in a program to show her these? The water bottle dropped to the ground and left a small droplet going down the side of the bottle. Her originality was in but itself, a distraction from the right. Morals... she'd find herself chuckling in the quiet, as if in a state of disrepair. Entering the treatment program, she had never necessarily viewed herself as 'sick' or 'broken.' But those around her, assured her so. Was it the way she carried herself and the way she portrayed herself to those on the outside? Or was it the way her eyes held that cold, unchangeable stare that frightened her loved ones? It had never been in her wildest contention that she'd be stuck with the new normality of the hospital and doctors at endless corridors, but she adjusted rather well. Except for her disdain for the medication, they'd make her believe had a slight chance of 'repairing her.' Did it ever? Her hand was heated from being underneath the covers for far too long. Her cheeks held a red glow to them, as a result of the pillowcase. As for her hair, it was a tangled shoulder-high auburn mess. She made her way to the bathroom to the left of her in the room, normally doctors would enter this area, but... since things seemed to be more silent than usual, she figured cleaning herself up a bit would not offend anyone. As her hands were under the warm rush of the water from the sink, she wiped them against her face to clean her face off as well. The corners of her mouth twisted upwards into a slight smile as she wiped the wetness from her face with her arm. The hospital gown clenched her slim figure, accentuating how skinny she was. Her cheeks were a flicker of a slight pink, more from the coldness of the hospital slapping her in the face. The wind from the open window in the hospital room swept over her hair, before conforming it back to her shoulder. Her hand smoothed her hair back down once the wind quieted down, inhaling deeply before shifting her focus to what was in front of her. Her reflection, as she stared deeply into the mirror, she could not recognize herself. The light in the darkness was staring back at her. A glimmer in her eyes of some sense of hope, inflicting its trademark symbol on her skin. Lifting her when all else fails, enlightening the multiple roads to fulfillment.