You look up at the feeling of something cold and malleable smacking your cheek. It's windy, the still-green leaves ripping off the trees and whipping along in the screeching breeze. You reach up your crimson hands, the wind chill biting at your fingertips, sliding the bosky maple leaf down your cheek and back into the frigid gusts. Watching the verdant leaves be dragged unwillfully into the screaming wind reminds you of him. Your cheeks and nose rosy, you begin on your walk again. You try to create a barricade in your mind, blocking out unwelcome thoughts. You will not think of him. Not after finally being let free from the chains you unconsciously strapped around your soul, trapping yourself inside, not possessing the courage to break them, or call out for help. No, you will not let yourself remember those times. Using all the strength you can muster, you push your hands against the pressing wind, reaching to your bag. Earbuds, you think, distraction, music. Pulling out your phone, you hit play, using the noise to block out the thoughts.
YOU ARE READING
--short stories and vents--
Randomsometimes when I listen to music I'll get into the mood of the music and I have to write to get myself out of that mood. other times I am already feeling blue and need an escape so I write my feelings away. this is the product of that~
