This Book Belongs To Melody (GxG)

Entry Three

I wasn't trying to get lost, obviously.

I don't enjoy not knowing where I am.
Then again, that's more of a constant these days.

I didn't want to return.

I couldn't. Not yet.
It's too much.

Waking up everyday to the same empty sky and knowing for a fact that there's no one.
No one and nothing other than you and your memories that seem like they took place so long ago.

I just wanted to breathe.

Besides, it's not like I wouldn't wake up right back where I started.

It's happened the last twenty times.

I just wanted to see something different.

Unfortunately, there was only the forest.

I couldn't tell you how long I walked, only that if I was alive I would've passed out miles before I'd stopped.

I was pleased to see that the trees seem to get bigger the deeper you go, anything different is a breath of fresh air.

I was however, unsettled to see the path follows you, no matter where you step.

If I took my eyes off it, even for a second, even just to blink, it would be miles ahead of wherever I had planned to walk.

Little things like that remind me of where I am now.Of what I am now.

It truly takes what little charm this place could ever have and rips it to shreds.

It got dark.

I thought I'd stay longer, no point in being afraid of the dark when nothing is there to kill you.

Not that anything could to begin with.

I walked until I couldn't tell if it was still night or if it was day, as the trees were so dense, so packed together, their branches deeply intertwined, almost tangled.

I couldn't see my own hand in front of my face.

They arched over me.
To keep me trapped. Or to shield me.
I don't think i'm meant to know which.

I walked further still.

I stopped when I got bored.

I lied down right where I stood and slept on the ground.

I was reminded of my own bed.
I got the frame on sale for 7 dollars, a great deal, but at the time it was a big purchase.

The mattress, I got from my mother's oldest church friend henrietta.

Her son went away to college and his mattress had been used for so long she didn't think it would sell well.

Plus she'd do anything to help out poor little Loretta and her starving daughter.

That's one thing I don't miss.

We were a tight knit community, which meant everyone knew everyone's business, and they damn sure had something to say about it.

Every single time we went to church or school, someone had to bring it up.

My mother worked her behind off cleaning their houses and cleaning up after their  kids, just to make sure we had everything we needed, only to be told to her face and behind her back that it would never be enough.

Pity and prayers don't pay bills.
And in most cases I wouldn't call what they felt for us pity.

Anyway, the bed was horrid.