Status: New Story in the works(:
The Weight of These Chains
A Blanket of Stars
Sometimes the world feels narrow. Sometimes I let myself get so consumed by my thoughts and I become buried under an unbelievable amount of weight. Sometimes I can not break out of the cage I feel locked in, but then again, sometimes I'd rather things stay this way. My name is Abrielle, but I have a tendency to leave the letter "A" off. I am an insomniac. I stay up late at night, wondering why the world is the way it is and why people act the way they do. I wonder why I am living the life that I am living and why out of all of the houses on this planet, I was placed here. I've tried to keep an open mind, and I've told myself that I was here for a reason and things would get better, but in reality, I knew there was no reason connecting now to my future, and things would never get better.
It seemed to be easier on my sanity if I pieced together the puzzle of my life now and faced the facts. There was no happily ever after and there was no learning experience to be taken from this life I had been living. I've come to terms with the fact that I just so happened to be the unlucky person chosen to cross paths with my foster parents. It was nothing but pure chance. Although my luck seemed to be down very often, I was coming to find that luck had very little to do with anything anymore. I discovered ways around the system, ways to avoid getting caught or getting hurt often. I could be very conniving when it came down to saving myself from trouble.
Although I may be very conniving and I may seem untrustworthy, in the present day, I'm the only person I can trust with anything anymore.
* * * *
I enjoyed nights like these, the warm breeze keeping me alive as I rested on my roof, thinking about the day that had passed, plotting my next move, figuring out who I was as a person, and trying my hardest to understand what my lifes meaning is. The stars seemed so orderly, each and every one in the exact position it belonged in. The sky always seemed so perfect at night. It had a shine to it that many people would never notice unless they really analyzed what they were really staring into, and what they were really staring at.
I can never really sleep at night. I constantly lay in my bed, snuggling between my blankets and stare at a blank wall, waiting for sleep that will never come. That's when the roof camp was born. It seemed to be the only liable outlet available to me. It seemed to be the only thing, aside from myself, that I could depend on. The nights at home were mostly quiet unless you got dragged into an argument with "the system." There are always ways of avoiding them, but sometimes they dig into your mind so deep that you can not help but explode.
Most of the time, I come out here to calm down and to let my mind take over, enveloping me in nothing but thoughts. There is no horror in this world I have created and surrounded myself with. There is no sadness. There is just peace in it's most beautiful state. My eyes scanned over the backyard, the chain link fence broken in enough places where I could easily sneak out into the woods without making too much sound. I enjoyed the company of the Pines and occasional Weeping Willow, but there was no spot I enjoyed more than the large clearing about a mile and a half into the woods. My foster parents were unaware of it's existence.
The grass was green down to its root and a large Weeping Willow stood on its own in the center of the clearing, surrounded by small white and purple flowers which were spread throughout the floor. The ground was soft to the touch, and when the moon had gleamed across this paradise, it gleamed with an unimaginable and unforgettable glow. Under the canopy of stars, on ground soft enough to sleep on, was my haven. I know, as well as the roof, that this place was liable, but there is a flaw in the perfection of this all. It was too far from my reach. Even though I enjoyed the clear view of the sky where every star was visible and not just half in this beautiful area away from my prospering town, and I loved the way to fireflies danced around me while I lay on the ground under my own blanket of stars, it was almost impossible to reach because of the distance and my family.
It seemed to be one of the few things that I felt I had anymore. It was the only place, even greater than the roof, where for a moment in time, I could feel the weight of these chains disappear.
It seemed to be easier on my sanity if I pieced together the puzzle of my life now and faced the facts. There was no happily ever after and there was no learning experience to be taken from this life I had been living. I've come to terms with the fact that I just so happened to be the unlucky person chosen to cross paths with my foster parents. It was nothing but pure chance. Although my luck seemed to be down very often, I was coming to find that luck had very little to do with anything anymore. I discovered ways around the system, ways to avoid getting caught or getting hurt often. I could be very conniving when it came down to saving myself from trouble.
Although I may be very conniving and I may seem untrustworthy, in the present day, I'm the only person I can trust with anything anymore.
* * * *
I enjoyed nights like these, the warm breeze keeping me alive as I rested on my roof, thinking about the day that had passed, plotting my next move, figuring out who I was as a person, and trying my hardest to understand what my lifes meaning is. The stars seemed so orderly, each and every one in the exact position it belonged in. The sky always seemed so perfect at night. It had a shine to it that many people would never notice unless they really analyzed what they were really staring into, and what they were really staring at.
I can never really sleep at night. I constantly lay in my bed, snuggling between my blankets and stare at a blank wall, waiting for sleep that will never come. That's when the roof camp was born. It seemed to be the only liable outlet available to me. It seemed to be the only thing, aside from myself, that I could depend on. The nights at home were mostly quiet unless you got dragged into an argument with "the system." There are always ways of avoiding them, but sometimes they dig into your mind so deep that you can not help but explode.
Most of the time, I come out here to calm down and to let my mind take over, enveloping me in nothing but thoughts. There is no horror in this world I have created and surrounded myself with. There is no sadness. There is just peace in it's most beautiful state. My eyes scanned over the backyard, the chain link fence broken in enough places where I could easily sneak out into the woods without making too much sound. I enjoyed the company of the Pines and occasional Weeping Willow, but there was no spot I enjoyed more than the large clearing about a mile and a half into the woods. My foster parents were unaware of it's existence.
The grass was green down to its root and a large Weeping Willow stood on its own in the center of the clearing, surrounded by small white and purple flowers which were spread throughout the floor. The ground was soft to the touch, and when the moon had gleamed across this paradise, it gleamed with an unimaginable and unforgettable glow. Under the canopy of stars, on ground soft enough to sleep on, was my haven. I know, as well as the roof, that this place was liable, but there is a flaw in the perfection of this all. It was too far from my reach. Even though I enjoyed the clear view of the sky where every star was visible and not just half in this beautiful area away from my prospering town, and I loved the way to fireflies danced around me while I lay on the ground under my own blanket of stars, it was almost impossible to reach because of the distance and my family.
It seemed to be one of the few things that I felt I had anymore. It was the only place, even greater than the roof, where for a moment in time, I could feel the weight of these chains disappear.
♠ ♠ ♠
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