(Someone told me ranting it good for heath so it's half rant and full ridiculousness, read at your own risk.)
An acute sense of self awareness turns into full moon of solitude. Loneliness creeps mid laugh to over shadow the caring faces I'm surrounded by. Familiarity fades of like autumn songs, till I'm consumed in the echos of worthlessness. I sleep to hide away from the demons under my bed but wake up at eerie hours, haunted by the realisation that I don't belong anywhere. The nocturnal wind embraces me only to remind that all the people whom I have grown affectionate to, don't appear in my lonely dreams to fill the void that swallows me.
The broken edges of my mirror tell me that I need to be myself but however I act, the person on the other side of polish always feels lifes apart. The feeling of pretence sticks to my spine throughout the day. At night it calms weighted by the questions of my existence. Being my true self should be innate but every other second, I'm troubled by who I'm supposed to be.
People tell me they care, I know they do yet miseries seem too personal to share with even the closest of kilts. To tell them that I don't feel belonged in the close knitted world of ours, would be unfair to the love I've grown accustomed to express.
I run behind thin air searching for my home where I will find my long lost soul. I chase behind the petrichor only to stop before the waves of ecstasy, afraid of drowning. I live with a wish to belong but whenever life embraces me I step back, back to my shadows where I dwell with my fear losing it all. I run down the memory lane, to gather pieces of glass, more than enough to rip my soul apart. Then start my search again, of a rainbow without the fall.
I never learned how to belong but I know, the art of belonging is to hand over your heart without the fear that it might be broken apart. It is to embrace the possibility that you can be left deserted yet have absolute trust that life is forever. But I'm a little too hesitant to climb the clouds without the fear that it can rain down.
Pic- found it in an old folder and I think I shot it.
"O Ganymede! O li'l bairn! O young Trojan dynast, With those aesthetic stares, And thy august persona, Thou hast roused me, Insomnolence hast struck me, I, Zeus, the thunderbolt, Now, wants to awash meself, In the pulchritude of thee, Come, in the Elysium of mine, And let me love, till perpetuity",
The adolescent lad, Chaperoned by the leader of the Mount Olympus, Stepped in the divine paradise,
A cupbearer, for the Olympians, He was; on the behest of 'Aquila' His ambrosial, beatific Crater, Served syrupy, honeyed nectar, For ages, as an hierodule would,
But, the human he was, Couldn't abide, he was dolorous, Zeus, albeit be the Lord, Couldn't love the boy as much,
In conclusion, Ganymede dared, To leave His deity; tired he was, He splashed the dew, his holy water, Onto the orb below, the Earth, A deluge, did his bleak spirits bring,
Jupiter, empurpled by rage, Wanted to chatise his slave, But he couldn't, he just couldn't, For his reminescences told him, That he had been a lot hostile, And merciless to the child,
At long last, Zeus enunciated, "O scion of the worthy Troy, I sacralize thee, bless thee, That you shalt be known, As the pétillant gleamy Aquarius, The noble constellation, Undying and imperishable",
//Thus, Aquarius, the water bearer, still shines, with his cup of dew//
Visualize this color. Think of what it makes you feel. What it stands for. What the story hidden in it could be. Then create a short story, drabble, one - line story, poem, anything that takes your fancy.