Sometimes I feel as though I've been robbed off most of my creative output.
I miss my old room in my old house. Somehow, things felt happier then. Growing up is difficult. When I was younger and when my parents were mad at me, I would sit on the top of my double decked bed and wish that I was a bird. I had wanted to be a white bird, like a dove. I'd wish and wished so hard. Clamped my hands together and shut my eyes so tight the tears ran dry--I was a bird and I was flying away.
I don't know when we drifted apart. We were even close? I had seen pictures of events I don't remember about. They were picture perfect but they were not real, were they? In my old room, I had glow in the dark stars stuck on the ceiling above me. When I couldn't sleep, I would stare at them until the bright green glow faded and I fell asleep with dancing green lights under my eyelids.
I am not a bird and I no longer have glow in the dark stars. When we moved, there were strict rules about no posters on the freshly painted walls and no tape on any of the table tops. My room looked disgustingly neat and...square. More than that, I had lost the person who had helped me stuck those stars and sketched wild animals for me. Those memories, I remember.
I know running away solves nothing. But running away is the only thing I'm good at doing. Such is an escapist.
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I know the pain doesn't go away simply by chanting optimism. I know there will be nights where I will fall asleep on damp pillows and mornings where pangs of longing just washes over me until I cannot move.
I don't deny the fact that I will miss you, miss you for all the smiles you have given me.
You will live as brightly as your strongest memory in my mind.
Until the day they all fade :)
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My new pride & joy.
♥
Deets when I have all pictures.
:)