Waking Up In A Cold, Empty Bed

A Side Exploration.

Its gotten cold out, and there was a wicked storm last night.

I wondered, as I walked down the street, about the idea of villainy and of the idea that people think its easier for me to move on because I'm young and beautiful. That always seems to be the case. Or they fear me because of my beauty. Can you imagine that? Fear me because of my beauty? Can you imagine what its like to be feared? Of course, if you're power hungry, its a lovely thing.

But I'm not. Someone fears me. It means they're so scared, and unconfident and insecure in their own strengths, that they use it. It fills me with pity, something no one loves to have given to them. I wish I could sit down beside them, and talk to them, to understand. I am so sad, because I know what it's like to be scared and its not a nice feeling.

To say about myself that I am beautiful, is not a statement of vanity and its not something I like to boast about. This was how I was born, and this is what I grew up to be. No one should feel less or more because of their appearance.

But I feel its used as an instrument. She's young and beautiful. These are such superficial things. Firstly Age is defined by how long one lives. I don't actually know that. No one does, save for death. I could (but hopefully not) get run over, or struck down with illness. In accordance with the time, I would be indeed young for societies life expectancy standards, but in my life, I would be at the end, old and over.

I am sad again, not heavy, just a passing feeling of the day, because I miss him.I can't help a hurting heart.  I was drunk on the feelings that I get when we're together. I wish I was drunk on them again.

Because I'm scared. My beauty is not something I hold on to. Its not the thing that is going to make me happy. It's not the thing that I depend on for happiness, nor my age.

Youth and beauty are the things that the Queen in Snow White desired and in the end, it destroyed her, and her ugliness shone through because of it. I should wrap my feelings up, hold back and be demure. Sitting quiet and cold as people dance about me. Bite my tongue and silence will be my jail. I should fall on my knees and surrender, accept this blade at my throat. Bottle until my silence, my bones fill with anger, until I take in my hand a poison apple and strike happiness from another.














Well, I will not.

I will tell the truth when its needed. I will use silence as a weapon and not as a chain to hold me down. I will sing when my heart needs to, when your heart needs to hear it. Upon my knees I fall, but to sit and wait in patience, for you to come sit beside me, for we all fall once and a while. Even in my fear, I will hold the little light I have against the darkness. I will wait, to feel your warm hand, and to carry each other together through the storm.