Recycled Storylines & Tacked On Happy Endings

breakoutofthemadness:

I am a jumble of emotions, trying to stitch myself together - fighting the urge to fall apart.

I am a speeding car that has taken a turn for the worst. I am a plane falling through air. I am a bomb waiting to explode. I am the smoke that has entered lungs, trapped in a burning room.

I am a toddler, searching the department store for her parents who were right there, she swears, right there before she turned her back for but a split second. I am a little school girl scouring the entire village for her dog who’s run away from home. I am a pre-teen, crying in the bathroom because her best friends decided not to talk to her that day. 

I am the aftershock of an earthquake - lingering, but never strong enough to do any damage. I am the lightning that pierces through the sky; the warning right before a thunderous explosion. I am the wisps of the hurricane that had passed - nothing more but a reminder of the destruction that has been done.

I am a student, ripping a paper to pieces, frustrated at failure, afraid of it. I am a performer, trying to grapple with the news that she did not make the cut. I am a lover, with letters in her hands, trying to nurse more than just a broken heart. I am a daughter, trying to harden her entire being, to numb herself from the pain in her mother’s tears. 

I am the calm before a storm - a moment of peace before the slow, steady build-up of devastation. I am the remnants of a tsunami, what once was of the world before it was swept away with one gargantuan sweep. 

I am lost.  

I am the heavy, desperate breathing right before an asthma attack. 

I am terrified. 

I am the drunken walk back home.

I am alone. 

I am the next morning. And the morning after that. And the morning after that. 

I am. I am -

I am trying.

I’m happy. I promise.

Lara Antonio, I love you.