No one notices the unshed tears, the hardened heart beneath the soft fabric of her sweater. She glimmers and almost disappears into the void of her imagination. Her hand picks up the pen, hovers over stark paper. No one notices the resolve she hides behind the shaky hand of apprehension. Ink flows, paper soaked with hopes, fears, wishes, dreads, and tears.
Walking to the bus, the biting cold warms her inner soul. Feeling something is better than feeling nothing at all - the wind and the rain, the bus engine heat as she huddles against the wall all the way home. The smell of freshly washed sheets as she lays down. No longer hovering in her own imagination, her own world, she has found a way to survive a world as real as she. |