#thoughtsbyyourstruly

I'm not sure when my hood fell off, or when my toes started to ache. It had gotten colder, much colder. Hair stuck to my forehead and droplets streamed in to my eyes, my pajamas hung off me like skin hanging off bone. The ground was soft though, slick and soft. I could curl my toes and pull up grass, or slip in the patches of dirt around the yard. Still I wasn't ready to retire, I was aimless like the rain. Falling about and grinning. I found a few puddles, I blinked after lightning. I decided then that perhaps thinking wasn't too bad, provided I didn't do too much of it. Returning to my low-lit room, I found a stray pair of jeans and a jacket I'd been meaning to wear. Peeling of the Jack pajamas, letting them fall sodden to the floor, I guess that was the end of it. Because I went out again, but this time it was no longer rain. Just drizzle. I'd still forgotten a few things- shoes, again, and a bra underneath the coat- but I didn't need anything any more. Maybe you shouldn't put a jacket on when you wander away. Going back inside was alright, and as I opened the creaky door to my basement, one last flash of lightning led me through. I could see my legs silhouetted on the tiled floor, my pale grass-covered toes, and the wood of the pool table. As if the sky was telling me, goodnight. Be safe. Reminding me. My tasks ahead were simple. I locked the door, hung my pajamas in the bathroom. They were much heavier than before, and the fabric made a slapping sound against itself. Now I'm yawning, and I worry about having dried mud in my sheets tomorrow. But I went out in the rain tonight, and I suppose I just wanted to tell someone.

Until they pop, disappear like everything else. Never existing, even. Just an illusion. It was so quiet I could hear their watery skins break, and so still that sometimes they'd fall, still whole, to my blankets and rest there for a second. I must admit, I sighed a lot. And it's funny, candle lights are almost as fragile as soap bubbles, flickering and flying. One by one I blew them out, the breath passing my pursed lips bringing their end just as it had brought the bubbles' beginning. Kiss of life, kiss of life. Parallels in every day. Only the square one was left a moment later, and I lamented putting it out. The wax is pale as seashells, and it glowed with the petite flame. It's sad that candles were made so beautiful only to burn away. It made me sad, and maybe that's why I don't feel like thinking. Sad, and a bit crazy. But I do get such cravings...