Down the Rabbit Hole
Ceiling
It was morning already - 7am. Work didn't begin until 9, and I didn't have to leave until 8:30, so as one would assume, I did not stay home. I sure as hell wasn't about to stay in my apartment for an hour and a half staring at my overweight cat as it attempted to climb to the window: seven minutes was enough.
I left my apartment unlocked as I briefly left for a walk. I should get used to calling it a townhouse rather than an apartment. Apartment is too simple to analyze. It's a small living unit, confined, cramped, uncomfortable. I would rather live back at home than in an apartment.
This brings to my attention the idea of home. Home consists of my younger sister, confused as any young person in the world; my mother who slowly eases herself in to a tub every night with candles around her to relax; my father, the only person I can communicate with peacefully; and lastly, my grandmother, who is going deaf.
My childhood was pleasant, and my parents did what they could to raise me. I'm now 21, and relatively normal, but my sister is a teenager of 15 who feels that they gave up on her. My parents are now in their 50s and want to continue their lives as older people. They don't give my sister the attention she craves and is necessary for her development. My heart doesn't reach home anymore.
The leaves were becoming shades of purples, oranges, and yellows. I honestly loved this area during this time. The park I trotted through had woods in it's far back and trees planted in specific spots to make a trail seem as if you are walking down a large aisle, and the branches of the trees arched overhead while the sun peeps through small cracks in the ceiling to create beams of light shining down.
On the way down this path, I couldn't stop staring at the ceiling above my head. Today, especially at this time, the sun was bright and looked down with youth. No one was around me, so I lied down in the center of the hall and looked towards the sky. The grass was slightly wet with dew, but I would have time to get changed before work so I didn't mind.
I couldn't help but close my eyes and smell the freshness of the grass all around me. My mind wandered to a place of unconsciousness and soon enough, I was on my side, face slightly downward and in the position you put someone in after you stop them from choking and they're still not conscious.
"Hello?"
I heard the voice, but in my daydream, I imagined it being my father. I miss him.
"Oh..." This was a voice of displeasure. Worry.
It occur ed to me this scenario. I have my head on my arm, close to the ground in a downward position and the other one in front of my face, my one leg bent to prevent me from putting my head directly in to the dirt, my other one relatively straight. I looked like someone harmed me.
I quickly peeped up over my arm at this person who was turned around with their hand on their head, pulling at their hair. They were in a very distressed position, which is reasonable, since it appeared I was lifeless.
"Hey, I'm alright. I-" I began to say.
The man turned around quickly. He was below average height, probably 5'7'' or 5'8''. He was thin, but not skinny. His eyes were a green-blue color and one side appeared to be sightly off. I couldn't put my finger on what could be wrong. The hair was brown and matched that of a tree trunk directly behind him. His lips were thin, and his nose was bony and strangely shaped. It appeared that he was older than me and looked as if he's been through a rough day despite it being 7am. His cheek bones were visible and he had bags under his eyes.
"What were you doing?" he asked.
"Just... laying down," I said. "I didn't expect anyone to be out here."
"Me neither."
There was a small silence. He has a face that read every mixed and distorted emotion that ran through his thought process. He wanted to say something, but didn't know what. I got up from he ground and brushed myself off from the debris on my coat and pant.
"Hi," I extended my hand. "I'm Adrienne."
I felt like I was talking to a client. I haven't had much of a talk with anyone else for the past few days. I want to sell you life insurance.
"My name's Thom."
Can I sell you a life, Thom?
I left my apartment unlocked as I briefly left for a walk. I should get used to calling it a townhouse rather than an apartment. Apartment is too simple to analyze. It's a small living unit, confined, cramped, uncomfortable. I would rather live back at home than in an apartment.
This brings to my attention the idea of home. Home consists of my younger sister, confused as any young person in the world; my mother who slowly eases herself in to a tub every night with candles around her to relax; my father, the only person I can communicate with peacefully; and lastly, my grandmother, who is going deaf.
My childhood was pleasant, and my parents did what they could to raise me. I'm now 21, and relatively normal, but my sister is a teenager of 15 who feels that they gave up on her. My parents are now in their 50s and want to continue their lives as older people. They don't give my sister the attention she craves and is necessary for her development. My heart doesn't reach home anymore.
The leaves were becoming shades of purples, oranges, and yellows. I honestly loved this area during this time. The park I trotted through had woods in it's far back and trees planted in specific spots to make a trail seem as if you are walking down a large aisle, and the branches of the trees arched overhead while the sun peeps through small cracks in the ceiling to create beams of light shining down.
On the way down this path, I couldn't stop staring at the ceiling above my head. Today, especially at this time, the sun was bright and looked down with youth. No one was around me, so I lied down in the center of the hall and looked towards the sky. The grass was slightly wet with dew, but I would have time to get changed before work so I didn't mind.
I couldn't help but close my eyes and smell the freshness of the grass all around me. My mind wandered to a place of unconsciousness and soon enough, I was on my side, face slightly downward and in the position you put someone in after you stop them from choking and they're still not conscious.
"Hello?"
I heard the voice, but in my daydream, I imagined it being my father. I miss him.
"Oh..." This was a voice of displeasure. Worry.
It occur ed to me this scenario. I have my head on my arm, close to the ground in a downward position and the other one in front of my face, my one leg bent to prevent me from putting my head directly in to the dirt, my other one relatively straight. I looked like someone harmed me.
I quickly peeped up over my arm at this person who was turned around with their hand on their head, pulling at their hair. They were in a very distressed position, which is reasonable, since it appeared I was lifeless.
"Hey, I'm alright. I-" I began to say.
The man turned around quickly. He was below average height, probably 5'7'' or 5'8''. He was thin, but not skinny. His eyes were a green-blue color and one side appeared to be sightly off. I couldn't put my finger on what could be wrong. The hair was brown and matched that of a tree trunk directly behind him. His lips were thin, and his nose was bony and strangely shaped. It appeared that he was older than me and looked as if he's been through a rough day despite it being 7am. His cheek bones were visible and he had bags under his eyes.
"What were you doing?" he asked.
"Just... laying down," I said. "I didn't expect anyone to be out here."
"Me neither."
There was a small silence. He has a face that read every mixed and distorted emotion that ran through his thought process. He wanted to say something, but didn't know what. I got up from he ground and brushed myself off from the debris on my coat and pant.
"Hi," I extended my hand. "I'm Adrienne."
I felt like I was talking to a client. I haven't had much of a talk with anyone else for the past few days. I want to sell you life insurance.
"My name's Thom."
Can I sell you a life, Thom?