OK so as an avid book lover when I find a series that I really. Really get attached to and I can read it over five times and still enjoy it. (Yes I have done that before.) It is great. Now that being said I have a series its a really good series. You don't need to know the name of it or such. But that's not the point this series officially has four books. Four books. Now there's no problem with that. BUT. There is the first three books. You know what. Anyone in here watch Naruto? Or read it. You know all of those useless episodes. Or how its like dragon ball Z where it takes five episodes in the order of. Screaming. Screaming. Screaming. SCREAMING.  Kick. Well back to my point. The first three books. Are all over three hundred pages. And this by far is my favorite series. So I loved the first three books. But I wasted my money on the fourth. I was so ready. I waited two years. Two literal years. Pre ordered it. Paid express two day shipping. Just to get a thin book. By thin I mean it was barely over two hundred pages. And it was just. Just. It was bull! I waited two years. I waited two years for an official release date. Then I waited to see the cover. And it looked beautiful but it was just a sugar coated lie covered in fire ants! I wanted to see what happened between Nesta and Cassian I wanted to see if my ship sailed. I wanted to see if Elain picked Azriel over Lucien. I didn't care about Feyre and Rhys having a kid. That was bound to happen. I didn't care about a painters studio being opened. Not when all of you just fought against Hybern and barely lived! I wanted MORE THAN THIS. Instead you just left me disappointed and unsatisfied. This fourth book was like anyone of you. Wondering out of bed. Getting something out of the fridge. Putting it in the fridge and listening as it makes the loudest sounds ever almost waking up the whole house. You burn your finger a bit getting it out. You get a spoon or a fork and you start eating. Just to find out that its cold. It is colder than the iciest depths of Antarctica. This is what that book was like. Can you feel my disappointment rolling off in bone crushing waves?!

I woke up with stardust in my eyes
All I could see was your smile
I wonder if we both knew what would happen
You said it was a good idea so I followed you
You said everything would be fine nothing could go wrong
I laughed and followed along carefully walking the edges of your smile
Tracing your lips with my fingertips
Watching the sun cast rays over your head
I remember when you said it would be fun being on the run
We could walk on the edge of stars
We would see the past go by on a dying ray of a nebula
We would dip our fondest memories in infinity
Casting them in forever
I looked over a bitter smile on my face
I don't have any memories but if I could
I'd cast your smile in forever
If I could I'd dip your laugh in infinity
I'd mold the butterflies you gave me in amber
To keep their bodies from succumbing to the natural cycle of death
It wasn't supposed to happen like this
We were supposed to walk on the edge of the galaxy together
We were supposed to dance on the graves of our enemies
Casting memories into starlight
Finding untraveled paths
Take the road less traveled
Find unexpected adventures
Find ourselves
But now that I think about it
You wanted me to be happy
You were just distracting me
Trying to be the silver lining over this dreaded situation
So when I look up
At the stars as we sit on the edge of the moon
Defying the impossible
Breathing in the air from space
You tell me that it wasn't supposed to go this way
And I look over at you
As you fade into the velvety blackness
And I find myself alone
Sitting at the edge of space
Suddenly cold
I still have a bitter smile on my face
And if I could I would dip your smile in infinity
I'd cast your laugh in forever
And I would mold the butterflies you gave me into amber
Forever to be preserved

Frost.

It curls around the edges of my pupils encircling them like a newly fallen coat of snow…. My body gave in a long time ago to the bittersweet numbing cold I remember the day it happened. I often do. It started at my foot I thought a soak in the tub would make it go away. But instead it spread through the water. Freezing that too, and it just kept moving up. Up. Up. Until it reached my stomach I wasn't afraid as I looked down at the shining blue white material. As it crept up to my throat gentle. Soothing but still a bit stinging. I wonder what I had done to make it even appear and as it crowns my eyes like a newly minted king and queen. I still haven't found the answer.

I’m afraid of heights. But I don’t fear falling. Falling is a freedom that’s never failed to run away from me when I’ve given chase. Falling is the wind in my hair. Clothes ruffling. The pure feeling of exhilaration. Of knowing that there’s still fear under that energy. What am I going to fall into? Or on? Is my body going to hit the pavement? Blood blossoming around me as if an artist spilled a can of paint. And I just happened to fall into it. Except my body will relax. Whatever feelings I had. Whatever thoughts I had leaked out through that pool of blood around me. And in my last moments of comprehension I can tell that it’s darker than I expected it to be.  But it’s still the same. It hasn’t changed any. I always fall into the pavement. It opens its arms as if it were a long lost friend. Calling my name. Making promises of peace and clarity. Promises that no one will be depending on me if I just come into its arms. That I can sleep and not have my dreams plagued with locusts of worry. And grief. And over thinking. So when I found myself falling again. I leaned back into the feeling. I leaned back into the wind relishing the feel of its fingers in my hair. Relishing the feeling of this peace. How could you have peace while you’re falling. I’m not sure anymore. My fear of falling the healthy fear of falling and colliding into something. Has been stripped away. Stripped away like an apple being peeled. Or cheese being grated into finer layers. I don’t fear it. I welcome it. With open arms. And an open. Still intact unscrambled mind. So when I fall through the sky. I only regret. That it’ll be over soon. This addicting feeling of freedom this adrenaline rush. Will be spread out in a bloodied halo around my head. And that’s the only thing I regret. That it can’t last forever. But alas all good things must come to an end. So I close my eyes. Inhale deeply knowing the impact is going to come soon. And hang onto the remnants of this wonderful. Blissful feeling. And then it happens. I hit something. And instead of it being concrete. I find that it’s another body. Another faller I guess. So when I open my eyes. Expect to see blood around me. But instead I see blue eyes. Not just blue eyes. Blue eyes that aren’t glazed over. Blue eyes that weren’t gifted the kiss of death. Eyes that are alive. And are also as confused as I am. Instead of falling into the opened arms of the soft gray pavement I’ve fallen into a person. A person who just tells me. That it isn’t time. To die. To come back. And fall again. That I have something to do and people that need me. And I need to wait for that feeling. I need to wait and stop craving it because I’ve become too addicted to the euphoria of it. It’s time to take my head out of the wind and sky. And come back to earth and live. I actually sigh at this. I sigh in annoyance. And roll my eyes. Because how dare they. That’s why. So hand in hand with this blue eyed stranger I go. Down a road carved and sculpted from the wind. From the stars. And from the ageless eternity of night. To whoever apparently needs me. While I shake trying to stave away the callings and whispers of the wind. Begging me to come and join it. To come back and dance the waltz that never ends. But with my hand in theirs. I’m anchored here and I can’t. So for now I block it out and keep walking. To the light that needs me. Because (apparently). I’ve chosen to live even before this day. And even before this exceptionally weird fall. I chose to live.

So I will.

I’m not sure when I started
With small chubby child hands
I found this canvas in my mind
It stretched from wall to wall. Floor to ceiling.
It was so blank and I wondered why it existed
So for the first few years
A few canvases were filled with happy memories
Splotches of paint
Bright rays of laughter
And then
After I got older
Some were filling up with grays and blacks
I painted these endlessly
And then they started getting brighter
People were there
I painstakingly sharpened their edges
To make them stand out
To contrast
Except in the middle of these people
There were always these two figures.
And their outlines were smudged
They were blurred
They were smoky
Wisps curling from around them
And a part of me knew the shorter one was me
And I knew who the taller one was
The taller one was the constant
But sometimes
Constant steady presences can hurt
And I didn’t notice when my hands
Stopped being chubby and stumpy
I didn’t notice that instead
They became sleek a
nd flecked with tiny white scars
I  hadn’t noticed the paint
In swirling groups of flecks and blots
I hadn’t noticed
My left hand rising up with a sponge
To erase that tall outline that had been there for such a long time
And in its place I painted
I painted a clear defined question mark
And for a while
It followed me
And I was ok
I was ok with it following me around sometimes
And other times I wish I hadn't erased what I did
But one night in that seemingly half full endless chamber
Of canvases
I did something I ended up making something
Not like I usually created
I lifted both hands
I dipped them in this paint
I watched the droplets fall to the floor and splatter
And I realized something from me fell and splattered with them.
And when it did
This blank canvas bursted into life
I watched
I watched as paint seeped off of my fingers
Drawn into that canvas like a sponge
I watched as that defined question mark turned into a figure.
Almost my height
But slightly taller
And I watched
As all of these other canvases
Started filling with old memories from this rearranged question mark
And present ones
So I sat
And I watched

The City burned lighting up the night sky.

My city was burning. The one that I had so carefully crafted. The sky just an ash stained backdrop embers flying into the sky as if doves were freed from their cages. There were screams. I could see the people trapped in their houses. I could see the people spilling out of their houses. Once smooth pristine flesh. Now oozing. Angry red bubbles popping new ones blistering. I could see brothers holding their sisters back. Back from going in and getting family members. Back from getting pets. Back from going to the home that was now burning in front of them. I couldn’t talk ash coated my windpipe. Searing down it as if I had drank *****. It streaked up and down my arms as if it were painting me for war. And in a way it was. Because I would fight for this place. I would try to reign in the flames. Breathing in deeply through my nostrils as if I could take all of it and bind it into myself. And let it burn within me and spare this place that had become a sanctuary for so many. That had become my sanctuary. Except I hadn’t realized it. Peaceful days would be no more. Only days that were just filled with grieving. Filled with frantic terrorized people looking for remains. Looking for memories. Looking for small sentiments among the rubble. Just to numbly drop and realize that Greedy flames had burned it all away. And if it wasn’t. A Brash wind would sweep through and carry off the once heard laughs. The footsteps of the children playing. No. I have to stop. I have to help. But how can I help when I can’t even find the will to move. My muscles slowly failing me. Until I find a hand on my already heat kissed skin. Such a casual. Such a familiar gesture. I would know this hand. I do know this hand. Except I don’t because I find that when I turn. I turn! I can move. I can smile. I can do something. And I swear it’s like someone heard me. Heard my would be half baked panicked plan. A wind pushes at my back and I forget about the phantom hand. I only look long enough to notice a hand print just two sizes bigger than mine. It’s nice to know that they didn’t change that much. But that’s not the point. I travel down the blistered hill. Going to wherever I can. And just. Inhaling. I wince as it travels down my throat. And where it goes. I’m not sure. But it keeps working. I see my people. The people I’m supposed to protect. The people I am trying my best to protect. They calm down when they see me. But they also flinch away. As if they’ve received a swatting from a nanny. I can’t tell if my neck has been exposed. The bones gleaming white. The strewny muscles showing. Charred because they’ve already been cooked by the flames that never cease to exist. I want to stop. I can’t take this searing pain that’s numbed over half of my body and my nerves. The flames keep dancing and dancing. Dancing me closer to death. But I keep doing it. Until I get to the last house. I breathe in…… And that’s the last breath I remember taking. Before I collapse falling to my knees. And then keeling to the side. The ashes make a lovely pillow. Coating half of my face as if I had decided to play with them. Except these ashes were from wood. From bones. Some heavily soaked in blood… But they were all safe. The ones left alive at least. Marked and to forever be scarred by the fire. But alive. In pain. But alive. And that’s all that mattered to me. These are my last thoughts as I’m finally swept through a smoke coated tunnel of blackness.

Hi! Nice to meet you.. Oh I’m sorry you look confused. Or am I confused? Or are we just both confused? Oh I was supposed to be introducing myself I’m your anxiety… I’m the reason that causes your confidence to flake apart I wrap myself around you like an overly comfy turtleneck. It’s a shame you always get so confident and I’m sorry but I can never help myself it’s like a board game with you. You move three steps forward you can actually speak to the person who’s taking your order at the drive through. You don’t stutter and oh I’m so proud of you. You’re concise and easy to understand… And I let you have these small confidence boosters. They make you so happy and your eyes light up and you get that stupidly adorable smile on your face.. And I’m sorry I am but it’s so fun to slowly come back and chip away at the progress you’ve made. I know when I do it starts small you fumble a word in a sentence and have to repeat or you just completely **** it up and then you start caving in on yourself. Trying so hard to blend in and be normal, but baby we’ve been at this for a while now. You can’t be normal not when it's with me. I trail your steps reminding you about the stray hair that keeps falling out from behind your ear. And what if someone noticed and they said something. I know you’ve never been good with strangers you never approach them. And when they approach you you’re just so small and shy hating yourself because you just can’t speak. I’ve given you everything to do so your trembling hands your frail voice. The slight heat creeping across your cheek bones. And I can’t stand it. It makes me insane when you roll your shoulders forward as if that can honestly save you. I’ve given you time I’ve given you space. Admittedly I also gave you false hope and happiness but dear. I’m honestly hurt how could you ever think I was actually gone? Like I would actually ever leave you alone? I’ve become so attached can’t you see that? I can. When I feel your heart rate go up and see the thoughts in your mind racing. Your fingers are so delicate always trying to pick up the pieces. But you know you can’t not when they shake so much each piece just breaks after it slips through your fingertips. Part of me wants to tell you to stop trying but I delight in watching you too much. But that’s not healthy right? I’m supposed to be supportive but we both know I’ve never been that type. We both know this has never been supportive or healthy. You keep going on and smiling using humor as a crutch. The only time your hands are steady is when you pull out one of your masks and that makes my day which one is it going to be now? The stone cold *****? The “strong” silent type? Or will it be the one that I gave you when we first graced the dance floor together? The one that you fasten over your head and put your hair up behind. While you’re silently hoping that no one notices you. Or is it the one that only shows the truth in those brown eyes of yours? While I take the strings that command your mouth and pull it up into a smile. Your spine bends to my will like a horse broken to the bit and you straighten. Tall falsely proud and it’s the best secret ever. Only between us. Maybe I’m sadistic but I’ve always been able to feel you curl into yourself even when I don’t let you… And no one would know not unless they looked into your eyes. But I know they won’t, you know they won’t. Because you never make eye contact with anyone. Your skittishness is like a free fall with no end. Our whole relationship has been like a dance with no end. I stay pristine guiding you twirling you across the floor watching as your dress flares out around you. An insecurity or a flaw flying off with each turn. Each dance. Each smile I can see your heart bleeding, your feet stumbling over each other. You’re always falling and I can’t help but feel obliged to catch you. Even though. I can always see that you’d rather fall… Because who wouldn’t? When each time I sweep you into my arms the dance starts over. The fun begins the cycle repeats. I build you up, I boost your confidence it's all me. You don’t want this I can see that… And… I almost feel bad for you. I almost find myself stopping. Letting you have a prolonged moment of peace frozen in ice.. But if I do that someone else may come along. And I’m sorry sweetie but ****** to hell I’m not going to lose my entertainment not when I’ve done this much work to get you like this. Hi nice to meet you. Oh I’m sorry you look confused. Or am I confused? Or are we both confused? Oh I was supposed to be introducing myself...