Words I Dare Not Say #Wattys2017

--sixteen--

She liked thunderstorms, for they drowned out her thoughts.

It was hard for her now, to distinguish the things she did not want to feel and the things that she did. Black and white had blurred into gray and she could no longer tell the difference. She was being torn in half by her own indecision. The longer she dwelt on it, the thinner she felt. So she ran, and she hid behind the claps of thunder.

One Mississippi. She wanted, more than anything, to feel more than this faux sense of peace that she put on daily as if it were clothing. It was not peace to feel so overwhelmed that she no longer cared, but that was the closest she could get. It wasn't enough. She was parched for the relief of peace of mind and soul.

Two Mississippi. The shadows had gotten darker since the last time she had hid here. This was not the darkness she was used to, not the cold, empty tomb of rest. Instead it was full. Her skin tingled with the presence of the slimy monsters which had already occupied her dreams and now filled her waking thoughts as well. 

Three Mississippi. The ocean was getting thicker. She did not drown in it, did not sink like an anchor. Instead it slowly pulled her down, and she felt like she was being sucked through a straw full of sand. She felt it fill her lungs til she could not breathe, and still she did not die. 

Four Mississippi. There was nothing romantic about these things and she found no refuge in them. She had no shelter from her inner storm, no place to run and no place to hide. She was oh, so tired of running. 

There was no "boom" behind the thunder when it finally arrived. Instead, it slowly rolled in like a wave, nearly indistinguishable from the sound of falling raindrops. It drowned out nothing.