If There’s Nothing Else
From the window — sky’s palette, a flame frozen. Clouds colored by the sun, then shaded by its absence. The knife moves towards the scar on her leg. She gasps. The blade turns into butterflies, fluttering wings that bathe in the evening light. A soft knock on the window. On the other side, a teddy bear.
You know, if a scene keeps on recurring, I tell myself that I should probably write it down. Haven’t blogged in a while, so I figured I might as well put it here. I don’t know. It strangely ties into what I’ve been thinking about these days: I’m too positive.
Wow, that sounds really weird to say, probably because I don’t mean that exactly. What I mean is that I’m becoming too positive in a way that it’s been getting difficult to empathize. For the exact reason that things have been tough (or effortful), I’ve trained my mind to focus on the upside of every situation. I may be exhausted and in pain, but I rarely feel depressed. That’s crazy, considering how things were a few years ago.
