As I squeezed the air out of it, the tears it once drank from moments before began to gush out wildly, leaving its cover stained, and a thick stench of depression lurked about. No matter how much I twisted and turned, something felt missing. The warmth, the electricity from one to another was nowhere to be found, but in its place, loneliness and sorrow took over. The short hairs on my arms quickly stood up as the goosebumps and emotions overtook my body's atmosphere--leaving me empty, with only a mere object between my still-hopeful arms.
Inhaling what was known to be my future, I began to pretend: pretend I had human flesh instead of 100% cotton against my face and skin; pretend I had someone to whisper ideas to about exploring this world and beyond, or how I thought my life would be in the decades ahead of me. And soon enough my lips became one with it. Falling deeper and deeper into my fantasy--into my dream--I lost all acknowledgement of my surroundings and of myself. But while I began to slowly caress and physically, but not sexually, love it, I realized it didn't love me back.
There were no kisses being thrown back at my hungry lips. There were no hands driving to find mine. There was no heartbeat to be heard but my own, and that's when I stopped. Breathed. And repeated the true, but piercing, words my wise mother once said:
"I don't care how much you hug a pillow. It ain't gonna hug you back."
Then thought:
"So who will?"
No comments:
Post a Comment