When it rains, I can be found outside, in the mist of Nature’s free-flowing tears. With each clear, and magnifying droplet that travels across my chilled skin, I let go of a guilt. I take a deep refrigerated inhale, then, I shut my eyelids, and let out a much needed exhale. An exhale that releases the toxins that the World shoves into my body, through my pores. With each gust of wind that knocks my body against an invisible force field, I become new again. I become enlightened. With each crack of thunder that bellows within my eardrums, I let go of all the negative things, all the things anyone has ever done, or said to me. With each flash of blinding lightening, I let go of a horrible image. One that once suppressed my thoughts. The rain washes away the cocoon of dirt I am forced to roll around in, which then allows me to spin another, gleaming web of hope and happiness.

If only it took one shower to become clean, and rinse away all the dirt.

I look within the mirror,

and I see myself,

I see dullness,

I see brown hair, brown eyes, and light beige skin,

I see a square jaw, but a round face,

I see the absence of height, and the extra width of my wide set hips,

I see specks of dirt located across my face, and arms,

Oh wait,

Those are freckles,

I see a chest that sticks out farther than my arms can reach,

and an *** that does the same,

Deep breathes,

In and Out,

Look down,

Look back up,

I see myself once again,

I see how the beautiful pieces of my mother are floating around within me, each separate piece making up my DNA.

Swaying back and forth. Carrying my mind in vast directions. It is getting hard to stay with the current. The water tugging at every corner and crevice of my state of being. I can feel my muscles tiring, along with my cerebellum. I yell into the void and empty sea air, “LET ME GO. LET ME GO. I can make up my own mind! I am my own person!” But I am the only creature floating in this ocean of debate and discrepancy, so, not a soul can hear my helpless cries of dull agony. All I have left to do is wade, and wait. So I am waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Still waiting.

Soon waiting overwrites wading as my body gives up, and so I begin to go limp.

Now I am limp. Limp. Limp. Almost lifeless.

Almost is the word my mind seems to be holding onto, as if it is some form of a flotation device.

The Ocean continues dropping in temperature as the sun rushes itself towards the bottom, to leave me cold and alone with the moon.

He mocks me. Mocking. Mocking. Still Mocking me.

I am still limp.

“You have to keep yourself above the line.” My mind begins feeding me truths based on lies and mistakes. My mind knows that I am giving up. “You are the only person that can keep you above the line. Depend on no one else.”

For some reason, I choose today, of all days, to take what he is telling me to heart. -Yes, I remember now. I have a heart. And my heart has a beat. BU-***. BU-***.- Maybe it is the sharp, glass-like ocean, or the pitch-black air that paints the sky, that has amplified my trust.

Whatever it is, I am thankful for my mind.

I now stop waiting.

And I begin to Wade. Wading. Wading. I am saving myself.

And then,

as if I have pressed a button on a simple children’s toy,

I awake in my bed.

The sun’s arms wrapped around my apartment windows.  

The air fresh, and the day looking up at me, hope painted across her face.

I have survived another dream, to live another day.

It begins with a slight touch of the arm.Then her fingers, full of teases, trail down his arm, skip his hand, and land on his thigh. As her hand slowly roams, her eyes look his entire being up and down, as if seeing what it is exactly he amounts to. She doesn’t even like him, she does not appreciate him. Witnessing this hurts me, and an aching feeling manifests between my muscle tissue and skin. Anger itches under my fingernails. But she is beautiful, and womanly, and he is after all, a boy. And so he falls for her bag of tricks and smiles, as I sit, and watch. Her words are like slow jazz music, wearing fiery red lipstick. My words are the opposite,the sound of a child beating a xylophone. He of course, has chosen the smooth jazz, leaving childhood behind. We had been together forever, and as we often said “til the end and farther.” But then, he met her. That gorgeous girl with a wide smile and an alluring walk. She wore heels of grace, and the swagger of an Egyptian queen. I know I am not perfect, or as pretty as her. This saddens me, creates an empty feeling at the pit of my weak stomach.

I take a bite. I taste sweet nectar, after my tongue feels the smooth skin, and my teeth make their way into the warm insides. The juice, unlike the meat, is cool and sweet, and I quickly lick up a dewy droplet just as it is trying to make it’s escape around the curve of my lip. This is the sweetest sensation I have felt today, and my mind takes a minute to recognize this splendid pleasure. I quickly yearn for more however, and I take an even larger bite, this one hits the center, and so I rotate this delicious apple and find another spot to sink my teeth into. Finally, and unfortunately, I am left with the core of what once was a satisfying way to end a tiring day.