persone e oggetti, difficili da distinguere. la piccola ragazza buttata negli oggetti. sesso; sesso; sesso, la sua voce... muta.

forzarlo su carta senza miccia può risultare soltanto accademico... e io ** speso anni a provare. la miccia... dentro rimane.

Chair with my ****; words in my eyes; I live for those times.
Within, though; my eyes see no one.

Where is Eva?
She is alone.

You want it- it's an illusion.
You need it- it's boring to tears.
You cry-- take two steps back.

Here we go again.

I sit at my desk- as old as me.
I practice and practice, with disappointing results.
On my left, my magnifying mirror.
I use it to check inside my mouth- whatever of my throat I can see.
I look at it, while I'm sitting at my desk.
I see that I am ******.

I am quite lost.
Self loathing is my hobby, not a good one to socialize.

I see the sky blue- so does everyone else. Yet at the same time, they see me as another.

My mirror shows only the past to me- it shows that crushing truth.
You do as well- as do drawings of you, stories even.

You are so common... and we are so similar- though I am the monster.

I am not like you.
It hurts.

She felt the gentle breeze stroking her hair, by now it was all she needed for her focus to come together.

Excited and anxious, she is now showing to her friends.
"Heh, I've gotten quite used to this now...!" - she lets out in quiet jubilation.

A pocket the size of her hands formed slowly at them, invisible not- only for the dust gathering around it.

She was not "used to it" at all though. A far cry for her acceptance among the other greens- the shivering and giddiness, her nervous inner laugh almost enough to tip it all over.

She felt their gazes, their thoughts. It was very quickly getting too much.

"I have it! I... only need to throw it! I c-can do it!" she thinks to herself- in a desperation growing bigger by the second.

And just like that: "W-waah!" , her silly scream ended it all. The pocket turned against her, the shock wave pushes her to the ground, dust scattering all over while fittingly lifting her skirt for the others to see. A truly humiliating show.

Defeated and ashamed, she gets up from the grassy ground slowly.
A few shivers from cold and embarrassment can be seen, and with her hair covering what shame possible she quietly apologizes:
"I... am sorry... I m-might have lied about my abilities... but I really tried..."

Her chance is now gone and the realization quickly sinking in. She sits down and cries- the storm in her heart.