being blind.

it's back to the trite days that i'm too used to. it's back to the 6 am wake up calls after never ever getting enough sleep. it's back to back to back mind numbing sessions that we all call classes. it's time to return to the hallways, fluorescents, and dead teenagers. it happens too often that i taste a snippet of the succulent outside world but am then told that it's only one sample per customer, sir. it's too common that my wings grow back but are then made to resemble bloody stumps. it's back to the nightmare that's lasted far too long. too soon will my fingertips remember the feel of cold shiny metal, warm freshly copied paper, and the indents on desks that i've made in response to the chronic boredom fed to me 5 days a week for the past 6 or 7 months. hooray. it's back to seeing their faces around every corner. it's back to smiling when i'm everything but happy. don't you recall how you avoided stares in the halls? how i avoid your stares?

can't you remember all the boos you've read? all the pages you've turned and all of the ink made to look like little letters leaping from leaflets? haven't you ever wondered why the world you live in is nothing like the one in all of those books? you've noticed. you've more than noticed, you've strived to stay away from those fairy tales because you know that they can never happen.

i can see that wild hair whipping around your head, thanks to the december air. your fingers attempting to grab hold of it and pull it out of your beautiful blue eyes. i can see that sad face of yours staring at mine from the doorway of your home. your bare toes tap on the aged wooden floor and snap because you are as nervous as i am. i can hear my voice quiver and crack while it escapes from my throat and tells you to not be sorry and not to be afraid. (even while i am both of those.) i can see the dashboard of your car because i stared at it rather than you when we fought. i can still see everything.