I want to run way. I suddenly feel the adventure boiling in my bloody, a fleeting memory a want to escape and go. To hop onto a flight and not return, to watch innumerable sunsets and smile at myself in the sand beaches and waves. I can see myself throwing my clothes into a suitcase, tears streaming down my face, screaming as I throw things around as if I've lost something, as if something has been taken away from me.
I throw clothes in mindlessly, shove my suitcase shut and drag it off my bed. My sheets get caught and I yank them off. I tear down the pictures from my walls. I collapse in a heap, it burns inside and no one comes to pick me up but I hear soft whispers of people. Of those voices trying to hold me and pull at me. Boys voices, girls voices. They float through the air like feathers and they surge and get calmer and softer. My breathing stabilises and I feel lighter. I stand up and wipe my face. Walk into the bathroom and wash the tears off, the cold water stinging my red cheeks, agitated and angry. I pick up my phone from the table, book a cab and switch off all the lights. I shut the door, pull my jacket tighter around my arms and again the tears well up. I want someone to hold my waist from behind, beg me to not leave, to kiss my head, breathe warm breath down my neck and tell me they want me to stay. Instead I turn to the grey skies and walk down the stairs, out onto the road.
I feel like I will walk around aimlessly on the quiet streets, watch people walk by, sit in coffee shops till my money runs out, the same jacket, the same clothes, the same dead eyes. I will feel the greyness, watch peoples movements, their laughter, the anger, happiness, love maybe.I will yearn for them. For love. People will smile sadly at me through the glass windows. My eyes glazed over. I walk through hotel lobbies, change my clothes, get out again. Fall asleep in metros. Wake up to the loud laughter of drunk men. Drag myself out, sit on the sidewalk in a broken colony, in the dark night, and cry. A dog barks. I walk away.
I sit in the cab instead and type in my details. I switch off my phone and rest my head on the cool grey glass. It's foggy outside and I see so little, the warmth of the car makes me feel sleepy. I get off at the airport. Stand in the lines of people not really going anywhere. We're never really getting anywhere, we all stand in lines, peaceful lines with a buzz of announcements. Straight lines, curvy lines, that zig-zag across the posh carpeted floors and endless lives laid out like the repetitive patterns. There's the hushed obvious whisper again. And I walk onto the airplane, sadly looking at the sky outside. The people bundled up in jackets, in scarves, boots, gloves. With blank stares. They get on and off the bus. I sit in my seat and fall into a deep deep sleep.
I see myself watching the sunset. Sitting in a floral print wrap over and bikini. My hair flies around my face. My skin is brown and my muscles harder. I breathe in and close my eyes. It's a hill I think and the sun sets over the ocean. Yellow, burning like a tiger in the fire. It's quiet. Someone walks upto me, in shorts and an open shirt. We don't speak and just watch it. I turn and smile at him. We get up and walk away. At night I see myself in a room with whitewash. It's a small room with a bed and clean sheets and candles. I can't tell whether the man I'm sleeping with is in love with me. It changes every day. I have a job. I work everyday. And no one calls me. And everyday I watch the sunset. And no one calls me. At night I stare and the flickering candles on the ceiling, someones arms around me, as I listen to the waves. The patter of the rain, the alive ocean, the cold. The soft yellow and whites against are a comfortable memory. I sometimes wonder how I see myself as this older person, taller and lean. Beautiful and wild. Emptier than ever. Lonely. In Love. Waiting for a call. Waiting for Love. For my back to cave into someone's warm chest. My heart beating against his. It all blurs and fades into backness.
I throw clothes in mindlessly, shove my suitcase shut and drag it off my bed. My sheets get caught and I yank them off. I tear down the pictures from my walls. I collapse in a heap, it burns inside and no one comes to pick me up but I hear soft whispers of people. Of those voices trying to hold me and pull at me. Boys voices, girls voices. They float through the air like feathers and they surge and get calmer and softer. My breathing stabilises and I feel lighter. I stand up and wipe my face. Walk into the bathroom and wash the tears off, the cold water stinging my red cheeks, agitated and angry. I pick up my phone from the table, book a cab and switch off all the lights. I shut the door, pull my jacket tighter around my arms and again the tears well up. I want someone to hold my waist from behind, beg me to not leave, to kiss my head, breathe warm breath down my neck and tell me they want me to stay. Instead I turn to the grey skies and walk down the stairs, out onto the road.
I feel like I will walk around aimlessly on the quiet streets, watch people walk by, sit in coffee shops till my money runs out, the same jacket, the same clothes, the same dead eyes. I will feel the greyness, watch peoples movements, their laughter, the anger, happiness, love maybe.I will yearn for them. For love. People will smile sadly at me through the glass windows. My eyes glazed over. I walk through hotel lobbies, change my clothes, get out again. Fall asleep in metros. Wake up to the loud laughter of drunk men. Drag myself out, sit on the sidewalk in a broken colony, in the dark night, and cry. A dog barks. I walk away.
I sit in the cab instead and type in my details. I switch off my phone and rest my head on the cool grey glass. It's foggy outside and I see so little, the warmth of the car makes me feel sleepy. I get off at the airport. Stand in the lines of people not really going anywhere. We're never really getting anywhere, we all stand in lines, peaceful lines with a buzz of announcements. Straight lines, curvy lines, that zig-zag across the posh carpeted floors and endless lives laid out like the repetitive patterns. There's the hushed obvious whisper again. And I walk onto the airplane, sadly looking at the sky outside. The people bundled up in jackets, in scarves, boots, gloves. With blank stares. They get on and off the bus. I sit in my seat and fall into a deep deep sleep.
I see myself watching the sunset. Sitting in a floral print wrap over and bikini. My hair flies around my face. My skin is brown and my muscles harder. I breathe in and close my eyes. It's a hill I think and the sun sets over the ocean. Yellow, burning like a tiger in the fire. It's quiet. Someone walks upto me, in shorts and an open shirt. We don't speak and just watch it. I turn and smile at him. We get up and walk away. At night I see myself in a room with whitewash. It's a small room with a bed and clean sheets and candles. I can't tell whether the man I'm sleeping with is in love with me. It changes every day. I have a job. I work everyday. And no one calls me. And everyday I watch the sunset. And no one calls me. At night I stare and the flickering candles on the ceiling, someones arms around me, as I listen to the waves. The patter of the rain, the alive ocean, the cold. The soft yellow and whites against are a comfortable memory. I sometimes wonder how I see myself as this older person, taller and lean. Beautiful and wild. Emptier than ever. Lonely. In Love. Waiting for a call. Waiting for Love. For my back to cave into someone's warm chest. My heart beating against his. It all blurs and fades into backness.
