“Where’s your story to go? Little one, why don’t you love? Why don’t you live?”
“Because it’s hard…”, she whispered from lips numbed by sleep. She dreamt of a hand gently caressing her forehead, feeling neither maternal or paternal in nature.
“Hard?”, the hand paused. Her brow furrowed and her limbs stirred under the sheets, she did not want the hand to stop and let the ease it brought slip away.
Continuing its long gentle strokes across her brow, the slender frame spoke again.
“I suppose, yes, things such as that are hard.”
Blue tinted lips pursed in thought, it paused.
“You, my dear , are to smart for your own good. Sadly, this is what hinders you.”
The pale hand stopped its course across the girls brow and descended to the side of her face and rested there. Only a thumb gently sweeping across her cheek brought her comfort in the midst of her slumber now.
“Some events will occur without prompt others wait for you to set them in motion, such is the world.”
As she woke the next morning she was troubled by the remaining wisps of the nights dream. Vaguely recollecting the feeling of two hands cupping the sides of her face with a pair of warm lips resting gently upon her own. Her only thought on the matter being,
“I really need to stop eating before I go to bed.”
It seems that I’ve already broken my promise to post once a week. School surprised me this year with amount of homework it assigned me and I have almost no time to focus on personal time. I hope that those of you who do read my stuff understand. Five classes three days a week has its challenges and often leaves me to fried to much of anything else. I know it is not most teachers intent on overloading their students but it happens more often than not.
For only being a sophomore in college I’ve seen an overwhelmingly large amount of teachers go out of their way to cut the costs of books, supplies, and time so students wouldn’t have to stress so much. Then again I am mostly taking GE courses but that doesn’t discount their consideration towards students.
But thats besides the point, I’m hoping that I will have something up by the middle of next week at the latest. I appreciate everyone that has liked and read my stories thus far! Please if you have any advice, don’t be afraid to contact me!
She cheated. She cheated a lot. It’s not that she wanted to, it became a compulsory habit over time. Being the middle of three, it was hard to win against the baby and the first born. Attention had to be obtained somehow, to her cheating seemed to be the best option. She had the highest grades out of all her siblings and yet she still got little to no recognition from her parents.
Often she thought that vanishing into to thin air would be much easier than trying to pry her parents attention away from her other two siblings. If she stepped behind an open door she was sure she would be gone the next time it closed. Lately she had taken to laying on the carpet under her bed and imagining herself becoming one with the shaggy tan pile.
Closing her eyes and intertwining her fingers in the grooves she slowed her breath to a low hiss. Her mind quieted itself and her body went numb. She felt herself slowly slip away from her body as she imagined what life would be like without her.
There once was a boy who felt a lot. He did not always understand exactly what it was he felt, though he did know that the feeling was not his. The unspoken word of divorce, the fear of returning home to an angry spouse, or the sadness attached to a barren womb were all feelings he was unfamiliar with. He knew they were unpleasant all the same.
He grew up with is eyes wide open and his hands splayed far. His heart all to heavy and full with concern. All he wished to do was to help ease the burden of others, to let them know that they didn’t have to face life alone.
His efforts to help others only managed to further his own suffering.
“It’s only decent to use my ability to help others isn’t it? Its’ only fair that I comfort them isn’t it?” These thoughts were his only justification for his deterioration.
He did nothing but feel and give. Giving and giving until there was nothing left to give. Shrunken and withered, his heart hung from stringy ligaments in his chest. Overworked, his face had shrunk back behind his cheekbones. Now that he had nothing left, he laid in his bed unfeeling. Those he had given to, gave nothing back in return.
So entirely dedicated to the welfare of others he neglected his own baser needs.
Food, sleep, and affection all pushed aside for the sake of ‘duty’. His natural ability to feel devolved from gift to duty, thus sucking the life from him like one would suck the marrow from a bone.
“If only they could see me now.” He thought.
“They would wonder where life I once had, had gone. ‘It left with a wave and a bow’ I would say. I left no love for myself, you have it all now… but you’re all still so sad…,” faces began to swim before his eyes as he stared at the ceiling. Grinning one second frowning the next. All of them a parade of tragic failure.
“Why is that? I gave you all I had, was it not enough? Was my love not good enough for you all?” Tears had begun to run down his cheeks, cold and frigid. The warmth had left long ago.
“I failed. I failed at the one thing I was meant to accomplish in this life and I don’t get a do-over.” His chest hitched with sob after sob.
Our boy laid there, fully grown and devoid of all his youthful feeling. Born into this world filled to the brim with empathy and love only to leave it empty and unfulfilled…