\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0<\/p>\n
\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Hello fellow peers!<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0I kind of knew for this blog I didn\u2019t want to talk about any shows or any books.\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The reason being, I have a ton of movies and shows I can rant about, but I want to save those for later. \u00a0 That\u2019s why for this post I wanted to post one of my free writes <\/span>that I used to start learning a new genre.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know what genre this would be in specifically; I just know it\u2019s not the genre I\u2019m used to writing.\u00a0 <\/span>Now, this is a free write, but it\u2019s also an adaptation of something I already wrote.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>I wrote a poem named<\/span> Magenta Lights<\/span><\/i> in my second semester last school year. My English teacher really liked it but there were some problems with it, and it gained her, my math teacher, my mom, and the principal’s concern. \u00a0 When I remember that, I laugh so hard because I always find myself thinking \u201cWhy on Earth do they think I would write something like this?\u201d\u00a0 I don\u2019t know, but anyway I still have the poem, and this is what this post is based off of.\u00a0 I tried to turn it into a narrative, hopefully this one won\u2019t send me to the principal\u2019s office (kidding kidding).\u00a0<\/span> Anyway, the issue of what they thought I was writing, is a story for another day and if you want to see the original poem don\u2019t be scared to ask.\u00a0 Thank You ?<\/span><\/p>\n Her phone illuminates the hazy pink atmosphere as it lays on the marble bathroom sink.\u00a0<\/span>She knows it\u2019s the person she hates the most right now, so she doesn\u2019t stop her tears from\u00a0<\/span>making waterfalls to peer at the message.\u00a0 She just sits on the cold moist floor with her head <\/span>in her knees, while her muddy brown hair hangs like a curtain.\u00a0 It\u2019s a good thing though <\/span>because that curtain disguises her distress.\u00a0 She only wants to listen to her own racing heart<\/span>beat and not think about the roaring music that howls love songs, which only ends with\u00a0<\/span>heartbreak, in the background.\u00a0 She only wants to tear off the crop top that\u2019s squeezing the life <\/span>out of her blood circulation because the blue Care Bear face mocks her inner demons.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0She only wants to smell the cigars that spread about the ash trays like lit fireflies and not feel the stickiness of most likely someone\u2019s inner dignity beneath her.\u00a0 Which was unfortunate because it makes her think about how soon her own dignity would be swirling in waves\u00a0<\/span>of shame down the abashment bowl.\u00a0 <\/span>She sighs and lays her head on the barriers that defend her from the plastics she\u2019s learned to love.\u00a0<\/span>Reflecting, finding the point when she believed she needed to be here.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Her phone illuminated the pastel paper atmosphere that embraced the cloud LED lights from her room.\u00a0<\/span>She knew it was the person that she loved the most at the moment.\u00a0 That\u2019s why she ran faster than lightning to pick her phone off of her fuzz sea green sheets that were a shield enveloping her in a soundproof mind during the bashful nights.\u00a0 It was comical to her when she would find herself giggling and turning shades of magenta when she read the morning woes and the nightly serenades.\u00a0 \u00a0 She would always take her time to wipe the puddles of laughter to study and analyze each message.\u00a0 Her stuffies would turn away from her moments of shamelessness.\u00a0 Though she didn\u2019t pay attention when she rolled around the bed allowing her chocolate brown hair to halo the bed in angel wings.\u00a0 It was a bad thing though because it always created static that would sting more pleasantly than her heart would. \u00a0 She only wanted to listen to his words of love and commitment that made her heartbeat and not think about the scenarios that all their doubters come up with.\u00a0 She only wanted to wrap herself in the crop top that he gave her for Christmas because the Care Bear makes her blood warm when she thinks about the symbolism of its fate.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>She only wanted to smell his cologne as it spread through her room every evening when he came to visit her. Not feel the dread in her lower throat when that girl pointed out soon her dignity would become a trophy he\u2019ll have to show while his guilt is beneath him.\u00a0 Which was fortunate because she could express how he cherishes her dignity, allowing it to flow in his gilded bowl that holds her significance for him.\u00a0 She sighed and laid her head on the pillow that absorbed her tears that form under the statements of the plastics that hate her.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>Reflected, finding any truth that she is wrong when her world will turn upside down.\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n Her phone illuminates the blurred darkness that fumes from her misguided brain. \u00a0 The blue-ray light makes it past her eyelids that are fighting for life to be open. \u00a0 As her gummy gaze looks at the mirrored screen, she knows it\u2019s the person she can\u2019t stop thinking about the most. \u00a0 She looks around on the soaked floor, grimacing as her stringy hair pelts on her face like milked straw. \u00a0 The phone keeps lighting up repeatedly, the vibration contrasting from her numb heart. She is tired of it so she blows her runny nose in her Care Bear top, letting the snot scrunch the smile into a frown.\u00a0 She only wants to tune out all of the doubts that are actually concerns, from her mind.\u00a0 She wants to shove the ashtray off the sink, crashing to the floor, because it\u2019s not fair that people want to damage their lungs while she\u2019s suffering from a broken heart.\u00a0 Then it hurts.\u00a0 It hurts so badly which is unfortunate because it overbears the pain in her belly as dignity becomes blood curdling.\u00a0 She takes deep breaths above the sink drinking backup what she refuses to have come out.\u00a0 Because it isn\u2019t worth it.\u00a0 The grotesque growl of the music gets louder as the lights bounce from yellow to red, from red to green, from green to blue, from blue to magenta until it stops when the barrier breaks letting in the white pale light of the plastics that aren\u2019t recyclable and actually loves her.\u00a0 She sighs and lays her head on a chest while a hand rubs her back. \u00a0 As they lead her into the vivid night that is suffocating, she reflects on what point did her heart decide it can repair.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 … Continue reading “Vivid Heart (A story built from chaos) :)”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":95,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18349"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/95"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18349"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18349\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18365,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18349\/revisions\/18365"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18349"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18349"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18349"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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