11th December
Mi Casa. My home. Each room filled with warmth and color, yet still left untouched- unloved- unwanted. It was a dark room but it was warm. Where fear and serenity felt like a breath taken by a nine year old spirit.
The first time I could say I found happiness.
But the house began to feel dull. No color. No darkness. No warmth. Just emptiness. The four walls I woke up to see every day, those walls that knew my secrets, were speechless. The aroma of mama's Chicken & Mushrooms Risotto I grew up living for have lost its aroma. The grandmother I trusted has lost herself. And those yellow walls which helped me get over grief, anxiety, depression and even loneliness have left me.
The childhood which made me the seventeen year-old me what I am today.
All the flaws and perfections, my dreams and my nightmares have died.
What made me special
Each day constantly reminded that my childhood is gone. The only place could call home is gone...
But each night I fell asleep, I felt good spirits wavering above me. I could see figures, familiar figures, like a night with the dancing stars sitting under an olive tree watching each and everyone of them dance away. I could see them since I was seven. My grandmother called it the eyes of E Angelo Piangente
She told me a story, sat me down, on the blanket-covered floor and told me about E Angelo Piangente, a weeping angel.
Too bad it was all a story...
A/N
OR WAS IT'S? WHAHAHA. 😂I'M JOKING. OR AM I? VOTE AND COMMENT. Please Be Nice 💚