Short Story: "Friday"

She had ransacked her brain to bits to show up on time for her 8:30am this morning. And even though she was running on no sleep, she had a grin on her face, ready for the day. It was the end of the week; the school-week, the business week, the week of productivity and work, and rest was about to arrive. She had just accomplished her few short term goals last night, and there was no reason for her to feel anything but content. She was ready for the 8 days of freedom and rest that were awaiting her. She wanted to get away from these buildings, its brown walls, the stairs, the chairs, the desks, the books, the people. She wanted a break and that's what she was getting in just 90 more minutes.

Bloodstream

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3b1CDLsiGU

Wake up and look me in the eyes again
I need to feel your hand upon my face
Words can be like knives
They can cut you open
And then the silence surrounds you
And haunts you

I think I might've inhaled you
I can feel you behind my eyes
You've gotten into my bloodstream
I can feel you flowing in me

Words can be like knives
They can cut you open
And then the silence surrounds you
And haunts you

I think I might've inhaled you
I can feel you behind my eyes
You've gotten into my bloodstream
I can feel you flowing in me

The spaces in between
Two minds and all the places they have been
The spaces in between
I try to put my finger on it
I try to put my finger on it

I think I might've inhaled you
I can feel you behind my eyes
You've gotten into my bloodstream
I can feel you flowing in me

I think I might've inhaled you
I can feel you behind my eyes
You've gotten into my bloodstream
I can feel you floating in me

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Nowadays, I've been living for those few moments of love, passion, & ecstasy—
granted, they are happiness for maybe the short-term, but they feel so amazing.

Sometimes, when we're going about our day, engrossed in everything we're supposed to be doing, we easily forget how strongly someone leaves a part of themselves with us. Or rather, how much we leave ourselves with them.

 -n

Waste—

"My parents have since divorced (believe me parents divorcing when you are an adult is no easier than having them divorce when you are a child ... especially when there is 'another woman' involved. Because you are an adult you are not shielded form any of the sordid little secrets as you would have been if you were a child; you are not protected from the screaming matches or the crying or the utter despair, the hurt and the depression.  You are put in the middle of it all and made to take sides. My little brother was 6 years younger than me. He was protected. It sent me into a deep depression. I just wish my Dad would have had the guts to end it all sooner [...]"

It is both heartbreaking and heartwarming to know that most of us, in any corner of the world, go through the same exact thing.

Source

Mi Amor—

Becoming so attached—so intertwined—so obsessed—with your touch
your smell, your smile.
The way you tongue rests on your lip for that one second; the way you look from the corner of your eye;
the way the crease around your mouth widens; the subtle dimples that hide behind your rugged hair.

Falling into your arms—your neck—and then your chest, attaching myself to your being.

You've become so much more important than you are, than you seem to be, than you should be.