Letters on the Ceiling

If you had to choose, would you? Or would you wait and ponder and forget that not everything stays still. Not everything can or will wait. Waiting it out seems to be the best route. Just a little while longer. Just to make sure. Can't be certain. Why bother? If there's doubt, maybe there's a reason. Maybe there was a reason for those letters. For each roughly drawn letter. Each meaning lying behind the lines. Between the lines. The ones that only appear months later. Only when you really start to question. To reconsider the meaning of truth and lies. To consider what's been lost. Three. Three that were never seen. Never noticed. Never discovered until it was too late. Will they be replaced, or will it be constantly lacking those extra three. Never satisfied. Never complete. It seems that replacements are in order. Only. Not for real use. Just to show that there can be new again. That is.. Until they fall and remain as they were. Sprawled across the floor.

Sleepless

Picturing the strange, unfamiliar new world that was soon to be introduced to me was frightening. Terrifying yet exciting. Where am I supposed to go from here? Face the truth and discover how thick these walls really are, or stay away, hide away from what was once inescapable. Face the risk of lengthy comparison and possibly relive the awful collapse. The internal collapse, the familiar emptiness. The accusing glances and hollowed whispers. Only predicted, but the fear still carries on. I suppose I can't avoid it. Can't try to escape. There is no real escape. One way leads to an end, a break down, and the other is a path to destruction. Either way, the truth will present itself. It will bubble up inside and let out bursts of words barely strung together. Will it be my truths, my words or the expected ones. The immediate conclusions drawn from betrayals and false truths. Assumptions and trailed thoughts. Either way, time is up. This world of strangeness is clearly in view. Only, the reflections have faded from it.

Stencil

I'm sure it could have been false. Created just for me. In just the right way to tell me exactly what I want to hear. Well, it worked. I believed it. I hope you're happy. It was just what you were designed for. To help. To slowly uncover bits of truth. It wasn't easy, but I applaud your attempt. Your successful attempt. It all makes sense now. Everything can neatly be classed into files and folders in nice little boxes. Oh how I've waited for this moment. For you to show up. Show your face and in turn be held responsible. For lifting the tension and brightening the cloudy, rainy, otherwise awful day. For peeling off layers to reveal something new. Something brighter. Something with room for change. Something that I can be.