so just the other day, i'm walking down the street and pass this woman on the sidewalk. i look at her for a moment taking in her tattered layers of rags, gnarled hair and dirt streaked face, and in the instant we make eye contact- an eternity passes. her eyes, with wrinkles etched deep, shaping bags seemingly holding dark pools of ink- surrounding eyes sunken and grey, speak of a life she lived ages ago; possibly a life with a husband, 3 kids and a miniature poodle who never really learned to stop peeing on the rug by her youngest son's bedroom door. a family full of love and silliness, bursting with dreams and tears shared.
yet something over came them and along the line of broken bones, broken promises, and in the end broken dreams, something has left this woman with only a shell of her self to remind her of the rise and fall of hope in her life, like a tide, pulling her out to a dark sea of despair. a life which in her current mental state, lost, afraid, and frantic, she can barely even remember, only shadows like ghosts, which haunt her and bring nothing but the pain of her life that died, and forgot to take her with it.
and as we pass by, the air around her feels dead, like the eye of a storm, silent, still, lifeless, sucking the joy out of all that comes near her, like a black hole she's created for herself, to protect herself from letting anyone ever want to come close to her again. her moat of disgust preventing anyone from breaking into her fortress of pain so that she'll never again put herself at risk to love, to feel, to want, and therefore, never again suffer loss, hurt, or disappointment. sadly, it's really just her way of letting her heart be dead while she waits for her body to catch up.
though it brings the risk of pain and loss; living with hope, passion and love is, indeed, Heaven, and she's chosen instead, to live in Hell.
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