Saturday, 17 April 2010

Black

My eleventh velvet box, opened.

Oh, this box. It looks dark and awful, and it gives off a painful aura. It looks devilish and scary, and what lies inside is something I do not ever want to face. Something which continues to grow, no matter what I do. Inside, lies the part of my heart that lay victim to heartbreak. And slowly, it rots away. I can't help it, and there is nothing I can do about it. It grows, and mounts as more of my heart crumbles. Lets put it this way: If my heart had hands, it would grab the razor and completely destroy itself. It probably already has. Its not really a matter I have much to say on. But its there.
And there is nothing I can do about it.
Eleven velvet boxes, open and redundant.
LoveLoveLove x

Monday, 5 April 2010

White

My tenth velvet box, opened.
This box is nearly in perfect condition. It shines with a pure light, a halo, almost. It is beautifully white, no discolouration or signs of grey patches anywhere. It glimmers in the corner of my mind, sitting on the edge, unopened for many years.
Inside this box, lies my years of innocence. Such beautiful, blissful memories of an innocent life. It seems a world away now, like it was lived by someone else. I remember, the only things that mattered were what my mother had planned for me tomorrow, or what the weather was like. I was free to do what I liked, and free to feel what I wanted to feel, and the biggest cuss from a friend was 'you're not invited to my party now!' There were no limits, and I couldn't see anything wrong. Money was limitless and everyone in the world was good.
Then, someone, something, stole me away from my perfect little world. And that thing was love. Love put me in a world where nothing is simple, and life is always an uphill struggle. Where money is restricted and you're told how to dress, how to behave, how to be. Where people can be snatched away from us in a heartbeat, and love isn't like the kind you find in the fairytale books, sitting dusty on your shelf. You watch things grow older, and then they wither and die, but you begin to realise that even as you grow older, nothing gets any easier. And no matter what you do, or how you act, or what you say, people will still be heartless, homeless, and horrible.
I never realised how bitter I was on my childhood. I long to go back to that time, when everything was easy. But its not possible. I'll discard the bitterness, but keep the memories. I miss being a child. so, so much.
Ten velvet boxes, open and redundant.
LoveLoveLove x