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✦ ???
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[dᥱ᥎ιᥴᥱ ᥒ᥆t f᥆ᥙᥒd]
???
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𓆩⟡𓆪
╰┈➤ 𝑴𝒚 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒅 open, and I jolted upright, my heart racing. I could feel the cold sweat clinging to my skin, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
Glimmers of the dream I had just escaped from faded rapidly, leaving me with a sense of unease. The room was cloaked in darkness, the shadows dancing eerily on the walls. I reached out, searching for the comfort of my bedsheets.
With a shaky exhale, I tried to steady my racing heart. The area beside me felt strangely empty, a void where my little sister usually lay. Clara was nowhere to be seen.
But It wasn't entirely surprising—I assumed she had gone off early to spend time with Mr. Svarog. After all, I was known to be a late riser, a bad habit my mother often scolded me for.
The dream's remnants clung to my thoughts, like mist against the sun.What had brought about this sudden surge of anxiety? I couldn't pinpoint the exact source, but a lingering feeling of foreboding remained. The dream had felt so real, so vivid.
I was walking...aimlessly. Walking aimlessly with no purpose.
I shook my head, clearing away the nightmare's remnants. The clock on the nightstand showed morning—hours before afternoon.
The chill in the air prickled my skin. Too lazy to turn off the air sanitizer and close the windows, I reached for the edge of my blanket, pulling it closer around me.
The dream, whatever it had been, felt like a distant memory now, fading with each passing second. It was probably just a product of stress.
With a resigned sigh, I let myself sink back into the mattress, my eyes growing heavy once more. The warmth of the blanket cocooned me. Before I succumbed to their embrace, I heard a voice call out from downstairs.
"Sweetheart, I'm heading off to work! I made you some breakfast, so make sure to eat it while it's hot! And don't forget to do your schoolwork! Bye hon!" A few seconds after I heard a small 'click' indicating a lock of the door.
Silence followed, and I could safely assume she was gone. I was entirely alone once again. This was the routine that I was accustomed too—days spent within these four walls, studying, painting, and watching flims. That was all I ever did.
With a deep exhale, I shifted my gaze towards the window. The darkness outside was beginning to recede, giving way to the soft hues of light. The world beyond the glass, even though tampered and slowly degrading, still seemed to be stirring to life—ready to embrace a new day.
Yet here I was, still tangled in the remnants of my dreams, trapped within my own place called 'home'.
As I slowly snapped back to reality, I couldn't ignore the heavy air of solitude that hung around the house today. Clara was often out and about, but when she's here, it's like a temporary distraction from my own thoughts. When she's not, the quiet feels even more overwhelming—like there is an ever expanding hole I can't fill.
I stretched my arms above my head, feeling the tension in my muscles ease. The unsettling nightmare was slowly ebbing away, replaced by a sense of tranquility as the morning light filtered through the window.
With a sense of purpose, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The floor was cool against my bare feet as I padded across the room. My computer sat on the desk, its screen still lit from my late-night study session. I glanced at it for a moment, resisting the urge to turn it on and dive back into my work.
"I just got up, schoolwork is ass anyways," I muttered under my breath, sighing heavily.
Instead, I walked over to the window, drawn by soft lighting of the sun. It was a sight I often overlooked, lost in my own thoughts and responsibilities.
I turned away from the window, my eyes landing on the stack of old movies sitting on the shelf. They were the only connection I had to which I dreamed—the past I wanted to see for myself.
So captivated through the stories on those fragile discs, a part of me longed for that simplicity. That sense of connection to a world I had never known.
In a way, those movies were a bridge between the past and the present.
Oddly enough, the prospect of reading felt more appealing than turning on the television. My attention was drawn to a book sitting at the corner of my nightstand, exactly where I had left it the previous night.
With a faint smile, I picked it up, my fingers gliding over the synthetic cover. My touch grazed past the title—but more importantly I stared at the name of who wrote this piece of literature.
'Lunae'
I'd always wondered who he was. It was an alias, and the true name of the author was never revealed. But I desperately wanted to know what kind of person he was, to have written such deep poems—the type of poems that never leave your head, and that become etched in your heart.
I always thought it a mystery I would never figure out though.
The cover itself was simple, yet there was something about it that always drew me in. It was my favorite book, a treasure I returned to often for solace and reflection.
As I opened it, the familiar scent of its pages wafted up to greet me. I settled back against the pillows, the world around me fading as I delved into its contents. Something about haikus felt like a small, delicate world of its own, capturing emotions and experiences in just a few carefully chosen words—that's what made them so special to me.
I traced the lines of one particularly poignant haiku,
Guiding stars unseen,
Whispered echoes in the dark—
Lost, yet not alone.
My eyes caught another on the page,
Past and present merge,
Lessons learned, futures embraced—
Eternal echo.
And then another,
Joyful laughter heals,
In camaraderie's warmth—
Grief finds gentle peace.
And another,
Guiding whispers soar,
Teacher's wisdom, a beacon bright—
Lost path finds its way.
Then finally,
The wind blows the grass,
A one in a million chance—
Time waits for no one.
I always came back to the last poem. I wasn't sure what was so alluring about it, or what about it I found relatable—but o just really liked it.
Time waits for no one. The truth of those words reverberated within me. It's a reminder that life was fleeting, but also that opportunities slip through your fingers like grains of sand.
I closed the book gently, placing it back on the nightstand. It truly was on of my greatest treasures.
In moments when I felt most alone, as I do now, and the weight of the world pressed down on my shoulders, I still had these words. Somehow, in some way—they kept me going.
But wallowing too much in my own thoughts is silly.
I stood up purposefully and left the room, remembering my untouched breakfast. Downstairs my mother's meal, though probably cold due to my delay, awaited.
I would be a fool to not enjoy this last meal, as tomorrow I will be left to my own accord.
And hopefully I will fill the void of uncertainty that I had been carrying the day I was born—since the day that I realized I was truly alive.
Just what do I want to do with my life?
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╰┈➤ UNEDITED ✦
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A note found on your desk
ᴮⁱᵍ ˢⁱˢᵗᵉʳ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᶠᵒʳ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ
ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴹʳ ˢᵛᵃʳᵒᵍ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ʷᵉᵉᵏ...ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵃᵈ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ᵍᵒᵒᵈᵇʸᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ?! ʸᵒᵘ'ˡˡ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵃⁱⁿᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵖʳᵒᵐⁱˢᵉᵈ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ?! ( TДT)
ᴬⁿʸʷᵃʸˢ ... ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵐⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ . . . ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵃᵗᵉʳ!
ᶜˡᵃʳᵃ ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝
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