• bluepuppy01 10w

    This is Part 1 of something, but I have this REALLY bad habit of not finishing a story that I've already started...so, yeah..I guess we'll see how long it lasts.������‍♀️��‍♀️
    (Also, the narrator is kind of talking to herself..like 'you knew this' but 'you did this anyway' type of vibe
    So { } is what I did to replace the italicized, actual thoughts she had at that moment since I can't italicize on Mirakee)

    #ceesreposts #bluepup #cami
    @whentherainfalls @sley_writes @alkamarottickal @letswrite000 @n250699 @shegram #prettypic202

    Absence of Words
    You can’t find the words. The stillness, the quiet, the unchanged scenery bothers you. Thus, you keep boring into the walls that prevent you from finding what you want. It stings- knowing that you can’t do anything to re-ignite the ashes that were once raging flames of inspiration. This forces you into realizing that you are only capable of moving forward towards your almost impossible goal because of a lack of wood, sparks, and wind. But, that burning sensation of realization is what it takes for you to re-evaluate your course of actions. You stop, no longer trying to dig your way out of the claustrophobic haze of a colorless room. Instead, you patiently wait. For what? To be rescued? You don’t know, but you wait nonetheless.

    And it seems the decision to not decide was correct as, gradually, the walls disappear and the silence fades into muffled thoughts buzzing around in search of the perfect flower, a destination wanting to be found but without a map to follow. However, just when you think you’ve flown in the right direction, you realize, seconds later, that there wasn’t even an option to turn. Now you’re caught in a web. Lost, not because of where you flew, but because of the possibility of losing all hope of finding what you were looking for.

    Your desires, dreams, ambitions- that flower you wished to reach and conquer is washed away by the sudden downpour that slowly drowns you with each trickle along the string that has you bound in midair. This storm rouses your hidden doubts. {Does such a flower even exist? If it does, it’s impossible for me to be the one who finds it.}You knew from the beginning that aimlessly wandering wasn’t ever gonna get you anywhere, and if anywhere, definitely not to the place you yearned to be. You’ve quickly accepted your inability to truly escape, to ever be free and find that which you yearn for most. You don’t even know if you should be ashamed at your weak power of will or fear the lack of hesitation it took to accept inevitable failure.

    After the rain diminishes, the silence returns, as the rain had also washed away the buzz of developing ideas. There you are. Hanging. Again, you are waiting, but, this time, not because you chose to but because you simply can’t do anything else at the moment…and possibly, for the rest of your lifetime.


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    Absence of Words -
    Part One