Liquid Lull



May 21, 2012

Nothing seems right, yet nothing seems wrong. Everything seems to exist in a neutrality or at least a balancing act between positive and negative, leaving a lull in the middle to take place of any extreme emotion. A lull in which the only thing that seems physically possible is dragging yourself into bed or the only words that have ability to be muttered would be the oh so famous Mmhmm or the typical yep. Typing a colon and a parenthesis exerts too much effort. All tucked in a bed all alone in the silence with the door closed, the tears began to flow. Tears of wanting to feel something and tears of feeling too much. Tears of knowing that companionship exists in the realm of shallow heartbreak and close friendships are few and far between. Tears of wanting people to be honest with you because the fa├žade being put up is an ugly piece of work compared to the true tortured and saved beauty inside. Tears of wishing that for once your heart wouldn’t feel as if a brick yard has been laid on it. Tears of wishing that for once your stomach wouldn’t feel as if it has been kicked by a donkey. The tears flow and they flow some more. The pillow becomes wet and so does the blanket. Crying exhausts you even further and pulls you into a state of painful sleep and you wake in the morning with poofy eyes as a reminder that those feelings were real and not just a dream.

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