“That day she flinched when I accidentally brushed my hand against hers,” he said, “as though it actually hurt.”
“And I started to pay more attention to her since that day. I began to notice how she would rarely speak of herself or should I say, she would not tell you much when you asked her about herself. She would just tell you to find that out for yourself.”
“I began to notice how she would feel uncomfortable when happiness was present as if she was unfamiliar with it, as if she was afraid of it. It’s funny, as she would smile and laugh like she was the happiest girl alive.”
“But,” he said, “not everything is what it seems to be. She can go around and paint smiles on souls, while drowning in an ocean of sadness inside.”
“If you asked her about what happiness was, she would start to talk about something else as if to avoid the question. Perhaps it was easier for her to talk about sadness since it could be quite an addiction.”
“I guess she had long forgotten what true happiness felt like,” he said quietly,
“And somehow, I want to change that.”
The Front Bottoms - Flashlight
After two years of not writing at all, I overcome my inner embargo. I’m my biggest critic but I will share this because maybe someone will like it. I hope someone does. Feels good to be at this place again. -e.n.m
What I hate about reading my writing is that I never stop to question it like: is it clear for a reader that/do they get my intention/do they read it in that flow like I do or does it get too confusing/ etc etc and then I always regret i posted it already because now I wanna change it up so much but i guess that comes with the territory
