EMMAorwhatever

Slowly, quietly, trickling thoughts, smoggy iced nights, hazy days, blinking world, muted television, muted voices, pressing silence. Playing a blank tape full blast, a tap amplifies a drip of water on steel, misty windows, cold silent bedframes and a note drifts through the air from a wandering wind.

Olivia felt the skin that runs along her jawline grow hot and irritated beneath the palm of her hand as she starred down at a blank sheet of paper that just starred blankly back up at her. She was sitting just shy of cramped – the ‘desk’ she wrote at was not a desk at all, rather, a splintering vanity table tucked into a indented part of the room that simply fit a chair and her.

Audible sigh.

Distracted, she looked around the room – large by most people’s standards. After all, London was renown for cramped, charmingly decayed surroundings. The room slanted slightly downward - she knew this because not all of the three identical cupboards across from where she sat reached from floor to ceiling comfortably. She ran her eyes over the tops of the cupboards, sitting heavily on the other side of the room. Running her eyes over various mists of grunge on the ledges. The place needed a good dusting, she thought pragmatically, but made no plan to do so. She fleetingly listened to a distant, shrill school bell before the room fell into silence one again.

She watched a trickle of condensation funnel itself through the mist on the windows to her right, sliding down to meet the splintered frame and disappear. Despite the chill, or perhaps in spite of the chill, she rose suddenly and forced the old croaky window open. It yawned upward and the iced temperature enveloped her, misting her lungs and prickling her fingers tips.

Standing at the window, peering upward at first, the sun squealed brightness into her face like a wee little piglet. She looked down at the street, three floors below. A man strutted swaggeringly, wearing an Arsenal jersey and a cap. She watched him snort and spit into a gutter defiantly.

Stifled giggle.

Suddenly, a small girl in a blue bowler hat and a neat tartan uniform spins down the footpath below, throwing her tiny head back and cackling gleefully. The road curves, deforms, an elephant’s trunk rears upward from within the tar and then he’s there, all 100 pounds of him, right in front of Olivia’s eyes! She watches wondrously, awestruck, as his eyes dart back and forth wildly, roaring so loud her slanted floor feels like it shakes, cheekily almost. His body melts away like hot butter; the residue turns to sunshine and smothers the whole street. The rich yellow wanders blue, becomes a washing surf, pouring itself quietly into the cracks of the streets and the cracks of her face. The trees as spindly as acrylic nails on an aged hand caress the air like an unseen lover, they meditate to the movements of electricity through the air, through the elephants eye, through a forceful sea, through the little girls movements as she opens her eyes and closes her mind and walks on.

Olivia sits back down and grabs the idle pen greedily.

venula:

I want someone to love me when I am annoying. Someone to love me when I am mad, when I am yelling, and when I cry. I want someone that is going to love me when I try to push them away, and someone that will love me when I am too much to handle. I want someone to love me when I can’t do anything right and someone to love me when I am down on myself. I don’t want a house. I don’t want a ring. I don’t want items of affection, I just want your affection.

i wish this read:

I want to love me when I am annoying. To love me when I am mad, when I am yelling, and when I cry. I want to love me when I try to push everyone away, and to love me when I am too much to handle. I want to love me when I can’t do anything right and to love me when I am down on myself. I want a house. I don’t want a ring. I don’t want items of affection, I just want my own affection… for me.

I am 21 in 45 minutes. Sigh.

if you painted a light bulb black?