Blurry City Lights (short story)

i love blurry lights. 

Image result for tumblr photography backgroundsi love blurry city lights. 

i love blurry city night lights.

 

“you didn’t sleep last night?”

She nudged my elbow.

“i prefer to take siestas”

Siesta: an afternoon rest or nap, especially one taken during the hottest hours of the day in a hot climate

 

Lifting my thumbs I gently place them onto my droopy eyelids. Swivelling them carefully,  allowing my brain, i mean – thoughts roll back and forth.

Recklessly swooping my bag up, I exited the door before another irritable comment plummeted and reverberated in the thin air. Oh boy, not looking for an asthmatic or hyperventilation moment really.

If only I could stop venerating the penetrations of hatred between us.

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      the blur speaks 

      the blur hums 

      the blur kisses

      the blur caresses 

      the blur whistles 

“you passed?”

She whispered.

“nah, seems like being trapped in a bijou apartment is my thing”

Bijou: (especially of a house or flat) small and elegant

“at least it is elegant”

She teased.

“if only, i saw the elegance in failure”

I shrugged.

I hated when she pretended to care.

Keep walking, don’t look back. Deep breaths, endless train tracks. I cup my bare palms, anticipating the insecure waters that fall from the damp sphere injected onto my face. Unknowingly, I whimper – sorrow and fear enveloping the hysteria.

She pulled my hands, pinched my epidermis and glared right into the vulnerable core.

Yet, she was too – feeble, meek. Unable to pull me out of my pit.

Why was she trying to help me?

The pit, far too deep.

Image result for tumblr photography backgrounds

 

i love obscure 

i love painless obscurity 

i love hopeful obscurity 

I collapsed, fell right to the ground. The lump of deject and despondency – all evident through the woebegone.

I fell out with her. Nearly caused an altercation in the overcast shadowed corridor along the classrooms.

Altercation: a noisy argument or disagreement, especially in public.

Our contention brought about countless brouhaha.

I yanked her wanky hair and stepped on her fragile wrinkled toes. She crawled, right back up. Propelling me towards the unwavering pavement. She pinned me to the ground, and right at that instant, i mentally embraced an incoming fist.

As i gently peeked through a wink, she began yowling. In clear agony, her eyes brewed with non-caffeinated Adam’s ale.

Adam’s ale: water

She began choking perpetually. Fell right to the ground – as a lump of deject and despondency hovered over her.

“I’m tired of fighting.”

Just like this, she dropped her artillery.

The two of us laid facing up – creating circular bubbles of hope. Vision of obscurity – a vague outlook. Simultaneously, the dispirited tear staggered down our faces. It felt as though days and months had past as we laid stagnant.

The sun rose, the sun set. The thunderstorm subsided and the sun peeped out from the safety of the clouds once again.

“You ready to stand again?” 

She stood up and reached her hands out towards mine.

For once, the ordnance of all sorts did not seem to point between our relationship.

As I picked myself up, I dusted the ruins and detritus.

“When you hit rock bottom, the only way is up.”

She was not another being – she was just the other part of me. She was the part of me that whispered gently in tumultuous turmoil to keep my artillery on the right enemy. Fears of failure, consternation of rejection were merely what she told me to fend off.

Time and time again, I chose the battle against her ; against myself.

How odd that the conflicts within a human can be so tangible and vulnerable.

 

Image result for tumblr photography backgrounds

I love the blurriness of the city lights. The vibrancy it entails within such a memory. Though ambiguous, often times Delphic, the road still leads. The cryptic tales of the future – only trust it has already been written. I love the blurriness of the city lights. Perhaps, I resonate that as enigmatic as this whole concept seems, I’ll keep believing. Not in the obscurity, but in my imperfect abilities.

 I may slip, take a wrong turn or even stand motionless and inert at the blurriness (failure) right before me. But so long as I keep moving forward, the tale is as beautiful as it seems. 

You are not defined by your capabilities, but rather, your strength to carry on when your capabilities come crashing.

This, I find repose in

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