Bright as Day

It's clear what is going on...the light that is being shone has to come from somewhere. The sun has long went down, but the light shines bright as ever. It's just them in the room, and it's clear to see that the feeling in the air is more than what they both expected. No bed. Just a blanket. No words. Just holding each other. No sounds. Just staring with small kisses in between. The room has little actual light, but the smiles that they were showing each other was more powerful than ever before. At first, they were too shy to show each other their true colors. Yes, there has always been laughs and giggles, but eye contact was very minimal, and this created something in the both of them that made it so much more different. Months of dancing and jumping around each other. No more going on between them but the kisses and cuddling that they are sharing right now. The dates. The hours of conversation. The moments of laughter that they couldn't hold in. The times of her crying on the shoulder of the other chick in times of need. The comfort she provided when her beautiful counterpart was in need of a hug or just a friend. It all comes to light at this moment. Nothing can take this away from them now. As they caress each other, they communicate through each other's eyes, and they both know that they do not want to take it there just yet, but they know that they are at a place now where there is no return. She smiles. Her female counterpart smiles back. It's fate, they both think. They now believe, more than ever, that they will last for a very long, if not forever. The intimacy that they share says way more to them than any removal of their clothing could do. As they retreat to the bedroom to hold each other and sleep, they remain silent, but the smiles that are their faces are felt throughout the walls that that surround them, and this brings more light into the room and more shine into the situation than ever could be imagined. Nothing needs to be said, and that is they way they silently decide to keep it. There is no rain that come down on their parade anytime soon...that, to them, is absolute bliss...

Engulfed

The four walls that surround me could never know my story, but that is not their place. As I stare at the ceiling, the randomness of my mind play a tune for me that is bittersweet. The thought of drifting off to la la land has not hit my body, so sleep is not coming anytime soon. The spot that is being occupied by my physical being only caresses her so gently. Comfortable. Her life has become a tainted and altered form of what it once was, or at least that is what the voice of insecurity that exists inside of her is telling her right now. She listens as that voice tries to reason with her to do things she couldn't just do on a regular day. The events that only exist in her imagination start to play for her in a beautiful movie form that exhibits heartache, tragedy, laughter, happiness, and sorrow. Her normal state of confusion never sleeps, and her fixed  place in the world of curiosity will not move for anything. She focuses on the routine she has created for her life, and she plays with the idea of a change, but the voice tells her she's crazy. "What's the point?," she wonders as she turns to face the wall. She whispers to herself that she is fine the way she is, but the truth behind that statement loves to rear its ugly head. Wrapped in the covers is the body she possesses but does not own. Wrapped in a never-ending battle of confidence and insecurity lies her sanity and mind. Covered in a sea of mixed emotions and uncertainty is her heart. Once joking about being in a shell, she now finds herself trapped without knowing a way of getting out. Sub conscious plays a major role in this autobiography she calls living as it works its way through her actions, words, and dealings. The things she can't stand she loves dearly. The things she embraces she wants to destroy. What she wants she pushes away. What she needs she ignores. What is not good for her is supreme ruler of her twisted mental world, and she can only pray that this stays a temporary thing. To matter to her can be the worst. To be nonexistent is, in itself, a blessing. The voice keeps talking as she tosses and turns her way into a web that the voice is weaving. The feeling of drowning increases with each twist of her body. The feeling of failure takes over her mental state, but that piece of her that's made of stone attempts to quiet the ridiculous words that are being spewed everywhere, but she knows it will never die. The urge to create separation starts to grow, but the willingness to stay won't allow her to. No tears. No sorrow. No sympathy. No remorse. Hurt and pain surround her senses, but she has to remember that it is all hypothetical but feels all too real. There is something that the voice is correct about: she has found herself in that cycle again. Breaking out of it is a bitch, but it is not impossible. As she closes her eyes for one more last attempt at running through dreamland, she can't help but to wonder what will be the monkey wrench to make that machine stop and forever alter what she says just can't be life.