take me somewhere » nice {vic/jo}
May 13, 2014 19:27:17 GMT -5
Post by Lux on May 13, 2014 19:27:17 GMT -5
S P E N C E R H E N L E Y
"O P E N U P M Y E A G E R E Y E S"
"O P E N U P M Y E A G E R E Y E S"
As the sun began its slow descent into the horizon, my glassy eyes were fixated upon a fairytale kingdom of lights in the distance. (When I was younger, I whisked myself off to some place far off in my head to escape the pain—what I do now, I’m not so sure.) I run my smooth, uncalloused hands along the width of the wooden bench beneath me, feeling the tug of the splinters on the delicate flesh of my hands. Unlike the other boys my age, I sat with my head up, shoulders back, and legs squeezed tightly together. (I do like to think I have decent posture.) I ran a hand through the ash-brown waves ruffled in my hair, the deep crevices flanked by my long, thin fingers unraveling the knots.
As I withdrew further and further into the welcoming shelter of my mind, the backdrop about me swirled and faded. My thoughts were of much greater importance to me than the always-unpredictable movements of my surroundings. (I’m more at home in the unending stasis of my mind than anywhere else.) I pondered the misplaced values of society and the impending likelihood of me being reaped. (I had only a few more years, after all.) I pulled a silver coin out of the patchwork plaid pocket of my solid blue shirt and held it up in the path of my vision, rubbing the rough outline with my thumb and index finger. On one side of the coin, the Games served as a vehicle of unrivaled glory and recognition. On the other, it condoned the slaughter of twenty-four innocent children. (Would destiny hold true if I flipped the coin?) I shook my head with a doleful slide of my neck, the regret of my poisonous thoughts painted across the widened pupils of my eyes.
I had had a dreadful day at the Career Training Center. My concealer didn’t apply quite right in the morning, and I witnessed the fetching boy whose heart I had been pining for strolling hand-in-hand in the hallway with a girl. (Alas, I allowed myself to fall too hard, too quickly once again.) Fortunately, I didn’t cry—I hadn’t given myself permission to. I endured a composed, cool ice king in the wake of a shattered dream. (That’s something to be proud of, I suppose.) I only know that I will remain in dutiful servitude of an insatiable heart in wait of that extraordinary moment in which I, Spencer Alaric Henley, will stumble upon my predestined soul mate. As I pulled my arms into my jacket conveniently hung over the bench, I felt the cold evening wind elicit an inexplicable emotion from me. (Was it pensive sadness? Acerbic contempt? Crippling loneliness?) It was undeniably something I was not accustomed to feeling. While I desperately wanted my inamorato to reciprocate my romantic feelings, I wish I had known that I had to be fully secure with myself beforehand. I had deduced my feeling to be untapped potential; perhaps I had more to offer the world than I had originally thought.
One of these days...wings will sprout from my back—I will soar.
As I withdrew further and further into the welcoming shelter of my mind, the backdrop about me swirled and faded. My thoughts were of much greater importance to me than the always-unpredictable movements of my surroundings. (I’m more at home in the unending stasis of my mind than anywhere else.) I pondered the misplaced values of society and the impending likelihood of me being reaped. (I had only a few more years, after all.) I pulled a silver coin out of the patchwork plaid pocket of my solid blue shirt and held it up in the path of my vision, rubbing the rough outline with my thumb and index finger. On one side of the coin, the Games served as a vehicle of unrivaled glory and recognition. On the other, it condoned the slaughter of twenty-four innocent children. (Would destiny hold true if I flipped the coin?) I shook my head with a doleful slide of my neck, the regret of my poisonous thoughts painted across the widened pupils of my eyes.
I had had a dreadful day at the Career Training Center. My concealer didn’t apply quite right in the morning, and I witnessed the fetching boy whose heart I had been pining for strolling hand-in-hand in the hallway with a girl. (Alas, I allowed myself to fall too hard, too quickly once again.) Fortunately, I didn’t cry—I hadn’t given myself permission to. I endured a composed, cool ice king in the wake of a shattered dream. (That’s something to be proud of, I suppose.) I only know that I will remain in dutiful servitude of an insatiable heart in wait of that extraordinary moment in which I, Spencer Alaric Henley, will stumble upon my predestined soul mate. As I pulled my arms into my jacket conveniently hung over the bench, I felt the cold evening wind elicit an inexplicable emotion from me. (Was it pensive sadness? Acerbic contempt? Crippling loneliness?) It was undeniably something I was not accustomed to feeling. While I desperately wanted my inamorato to reciprocate my romantic feelings, I wish I had known that I had to be fully secure with myself beforehand. I had deduced my feeling to be untapped potential; perhaps I had more to offer the world than I had originally thought.
One of these days...wings will sprout from my back—I will soar.
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