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Pen to the Paper 26
Season Three of Pen to the Paper is coming in full swing! Write a story, poem, stream of conscious... anything under the sun! No restrictions. The challenge? Oh, yeah, there is a restriction. You have to write it without planning. I know. It's horrifying. Looking forward to seeing what you guys write! There are no draft restrictions.
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AnnFan14
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Night Time Thoughts

The sky is raining. Or so it seems. You see the sky opened up in my living room. I am in a puddle of water wondering how to plug up the clouds so they don't come in here again.

Then I see that the rain are my tears and I am just wishing for it to be anything other than me- to hide the truth of my sadness that is right in front of me- falling like rain on my window pane. The sad thing is today was beautiful. Sunny without a cloud in the sky.

I hate being sad on days like today. The wind felt good against my cheek and I was reminded that I am still here. The road was warm on my bare feet and I wonder why I have bouts of sadness on days like today when most of my days are so good.

I then wonder what it means to have sorrow stick to your ribs like cement so every step feels like you are anchoring yourself more and more to the earth. My shoulders droop and my body aches. I am sick. I have been sick. And it is hard to tell what is wrong with me.

But my body is begging me to find an answer. So when I am bedridden and I look out at that beautiful sky I am reminded that I am so very here. Inside with aching ribs with the air in my room smelling like sickness. I do not know how else to describe it other than that.

And then I wonder if on days like today why it is so much easier to write when sorrow is my companion? It makes me sadder still, and even more than that it terrifies me.

I do not want to thirst for dark things so my pen can flow like water in a stream. I wish I was just the current itself. A constant thrum of creativity- but this would make me some god. I am no god. I am struggling living life as a human as it is.

I kiss my pillow with my eyelids, I turn over look at my ceiling with the glow in the dark stars- I will be 30 in about a week- and still love the childish wonder in certain things. Glow in the dark stars is one of them. So I will take this as my trophy tonight as I try to sleep.

Sorrow left an impression but did not drown me.

Because I will open my eyes tomorrow and do the very thing it would never expect:

I will try. One foot in front of the other. I will move forward.

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