Sunday, September 27, 2015

Drabble #6

We walked to the window and I pulled aside the velvet mauve curtains.
"Wow, look at that view," I breathed, looking out the window at the lake. "It's beautiful."
"Yeah, it really is," he said softly, looking at me, and only me. 
I turned to him. He was looking at me in that special way. I wanted to burst out laughing. We were a stereotypical couple easily found in any and every contemporary young adult novel-- girl sees beautiful view, guy only sees girl.
I didn't laugh. I smiled, and laced my fingers through his. "Let's go dance some more."

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Drabble #5

Sara looked out the window at nothing in particular. Perhaps she was looking at the big green tree in the center or the tiled red roof to the left or the big brown telephone pole to the right. Perhaps she was looking at the window itself. The window could be fascinating, to some people. Fingerprints. Dust. Glass. Glass was fascinating, right? Maybe she was looking at the smeared bug guts on the mesh screen. It had been a mean one... the bug, I mean. I killed it. There was nothing to look at. I didn't understand. But really, who did?

Drabble #4

I collapsed on the floor, sobbing at the nasty brown carpet floor. I grabbed on tightly to the edge of my desk, trying to stop shaking. I couldn't. 

I hated crying. I hated it. I was tired of it. So I stopped. I stared emptily in front of me, looking at nothing at all. I sat. Then, I thought about sex. Then, I cried again.

There was nothing to be done. Nothing could be done. What should've been done was not done. Could've, would've, should've, but wasn't done. Nothing at all, nothing could be done. Nothing... was to be done. 

Saturday, September 19, 2015

Drabble #3

He isn't treating me the way I deserve to be treated. I wish he would.

I understand that he gets tired too, that things are hard for him too, that things are shitty and crappy and everything in between. But he's not communicating correctly. I wish he would.

I am suffering. But suffering for what? All this time, I have been suffering for him. For us. But now, he's hardly giving me anything to suffer for. I wish he would.

He's living in oblivion, irresponsibility, and exhaustion. I wish he wouldn't.

I wish things would change. Why aren't they changing?