Sunday, November 22, 2009

the reality/ maybe maybe maybe

she loved the sound that rain made as it hit the roof above her bed. she loved being curled under thick covers and that blissful relaxed feeling of almost sleep as the rhythmic pounding of the rain soothed her to sleep. she wondered why it wasn't working tonight. tonight, her eyes could close and she could be completely cozy beneath the covers, but sleep eluded her. instead, she struggled to quiet her congested mind and find the sleep she so desperately craved. she opened her eyes, realizing that sleep wasn't coming just yet. as she threw back the covers a wave of cold air rushed at her and instantly she was coated in goose bumps. flicking on the light above her desk, she awoke her sleeping computer-- hoping there was an email, an assignment, an errand she was supposed to do but hadn't that was the reason sleep refused to come. but alas, it was not so. her toes felt cold as ice as she sat at her desk.

she dug through the mountain of papers that made up her desk, looking for the one thing that usually helped her sleep. finding it, she decided that bringing it into her cozy bed would be a better place to tempt sleep from. she crawled back under her covers, carrying with her her slightly beaten looking, but well loved journal. but for whatever reason, tonight she couldn't bear to open it. she knew the entries in it well and wasn't ready to add this next one. does postponing reality make it any better she wondered. sighing, she tried to plump her pillow to the utmost level of sleep inducing coziness.

maybe if she wrote it she could sleep.

maybe she needed it to be etched in paper to make it real.

maybe she wasn't ready for it to be real.

maybe it wasn't ready to be documented.

maybe she wouldn't sleep until it was.

maybe she couldn't find the words to make it real, for her or for the paper.

maybe pretending it wasn't real was all that she had.

maybe the journal would decide that.

she picked up her pen and placed it on the next blank page she found.

maybe her heart

maybe her head

maybe... something

would guide her hand and allow her sleep

or maybe this was the beginning of a long string of restless nights.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

the train/ trying to find a connection

she had a difficult time recognizing her own reflection in the window. she thought, at first, it was the speed of the landscape flying by as the train sped along the track, gently rocking, but no. the lines of her face were clearly reflected in the glass of the window; she could see the careful arch of eyebrows, eyelashes coated thickly with mascara emphasizing the lack of colour of her irises, her thin lips were pursed and ever so slightly turned down at the corners. all the pieces were there, and she'd seen them everyday, yet she didn't recognize them. maybe it was the separation of colour from her skin and the imprint of gold-orange-brown-green-grey-black leaves and trees and branches and fields and industrial landscape on her face which made it hard for her to recognize herself. or maybe she just wasn't that girl anymore. her fingers brushed the glass, trying to make real the image displayed there. a futile attempt at a connection. she sighed and tried to settle into the trip, avoiding the 'reflection' of herself in the window.

she hated and loved the train. there was a smooth steady silence about it which she found comforting yet she found the voice of the station announcer to be one of the worst noises in the world. perhaps because he so abruptly and constantly cut the silence she so loved. she listened for the sound of her heartbeat in the silence. it seemed to be pounding in her chest. she couldn't hear it above the smooth rolling of the tracks, the soft fan, and the quiet page turning of the boy across from her. so many noises, but it all still felt so silent. she wondered why her heart was beating so fast. she could feel its steady beat throbbing in her chest and while the speed of it concerned her, somehow, she liked the reminder that it was still beating.

she pulled out the novel she was supposed to be reading. she hated that she didn't get to read for herself anymore. she barely stayed on top of reading for class, so the thought of reading something she may actually enjoy, or have picked on her own, was a dream she had yet to be able to accomplish. she supposed that she could learn to better manage her time, but had yet been able to successfully master that concept. four years of this game and at times she felt like she hadn't progressed at all. she'd hoped to 'find herself' while at school. whatever that meant. despite it all, she felt no closer to knowing what she wanted to do with her life or where she wanted to go or how she wanted to get there. perhaps it was a lack of motivation or maybe she was in the wrong place. it was impossible to know.

maybe coming here had been a mistake. she hadn't really looked anywhere else. instead, she'd been set on this school and this program but now struggled to remember why. was it the midnight trips to a secluded concrete campus? the late night wanderings by the river that set this place in her heart? if it was a mistake, she didn't regret it. there were way too many amazing experiences that she'd had along the way to regret it any moment of it. but still she waited. waited for some kind of enlightenment from the experience to occur. she knew that might never happen, yet she clung, almost desperately, to that hope.

the train rocked violently to the right, causing her to glance up and out the window. the lake visible there was a cold steel grey and she couldn't help but notice that she was able to fully see her eyes reflected in the window because of it. she watched the waves roll through the irises of her eyes and found a sense of calm wash over her. while the colour of the water wasn't really a colour but instead was cold and harsh, there was still a beauty to it. and that fact calmed her. she found herself in that moment. that brief instant that her eyes connected her to the lake as the train sped by without acknowledging the connection. she still didn't know what she wanted from life, but she knew she wanted to find that connection again, that sense of belonging. that instant where things simply felt right. she sighed, not knowing how to find such a thing.