She was pink lipstick and mascara-filled eyes. A fine nose, a high-pitched voice. She had a mind so intricate, so filled with flowery words used to playing sweet melodies of poetry. She was a helium-filled balloon; holding her hand made me feel like a child for even a little while longer. And together, with eyes on each other, we flew. We talked of cotton candy clouds and a glitter-filled jars, for days and days on end. But before I knew it, she burst into nothingness and left me hanging in the air. For the first time ever, the sensation of falling filled me, mind and soul. Yet if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have known that I was capable of flying in thin air on my own. She was an angel, and it took me longer than I should have to realize that, so was I. She was a breath of cold air, and though, for a while, the thought of her chilled me down to the bones, she is now naught but a gust of wind – pleasant, smooth, calming. And in a storm of harsh words and even harsher people, I look up to the sky and thank her silently for making me see naught but cotton candy clouds.
symbolism
Day 1: Unlost by The Maine
He’s never the first person you will remember, yet you can never mistake him for someone else. When people think of him, they’ll chuckle, they’ll smile, and say, “Ah, him”. What others don’t know is that he is a lake in a world full of ocean waves. Others clash around and stretch themselves to reach the land. But he was an island of his own, welcoming those who have found him. The feel of his purity is enough to cleanse a passing visitor. However, he hides a depth of deafening wonder inside him, a priceless treasure for those determined enough to stay. And when gripping his hand becomes the only thing in this world that you hold on to, he’s not the type to tighten his fingers around yours as comfort. He’s the type who will stay still until the stagnancy of his being reaches the entropy of your mind.
dolor hic tibi proderit olim 