Silver thorn in a bloody rose.
Where can you run when the war is inside your heart? Solitude can be the hardest thing for someone that constantly draws emotions, affirmation and comfort from others. She can fall in the black and white of life, but it takes a lot of depth to understand the need to pursue the same path when you know it could kill you. It's like a profession. Only, she imbibes others emotions, perspectives and experiences to share them in different colours. She knows it's beyond her limits, and she pushes herself to provide something unimaginable, persevering a figment of her imagination. She can't fall back, because fear is not something she wants to serve on a platter. Rules are different for her, if she lets everyone in, they think she's weak. And if she doesn't pursue them, she's cold hearted and manipulative. Never one without the other. Oh! She just wanted them to see what she saw, while she suffered for her sanity. She painted ducks and geese and coloured them orange to make it look happy, but she paints her palette blue and grey. She saw something that's beyond ordinary life. Not the kind of adventure you seek, not the kind of adventure you imagine. It was quiet, and serene and peaceful wherever and whenever she decided to be. She was love, heavily articulated by pain, eloquent in poetry and sultry in her being. When there was no more hope left, she took her life. The world was never ready for something as beautiful as her. The reflecting light in her eyes told a story about what she tried to say, and how they could not understand. Perhaps they'll listen now or perhaps they never will. She's an empty space in this world with an endless mark of possibilities.
Credits - Holly (BA Hons)