I always wanted to live in a coffee shop.
The sweet little ones we all imagine that welcome us with honey glaze scents and tea.
The comfort of being alone in your thoughts, but the company of the warm dim lighting, it wraps you.
Warmth, it does not speak, it does not tell you its opinion, but it surrounds you with its blessing as you release your hearts desires or seek for it, its always welcoming.
Yet in school, I lack warmth.
There is a boy in my 3rd period class.
We are so alike, me and him.
I might meet an equal, someone who doesn't think im crazy, or insane.
I didn't love him, I just knew he could've been a perfect friend, or just a moment to share with that would be worthy or recording.
But I was not accepted, I was not accepted by anyone, in that room. Every back was turned to me, isolation, I get glances but when it's time for them to freely waste class time I'm isolated
I'd rather sit under my desk, they cannot ignore you if there is nothing sitting under the chair.
Maybe the climate is warmer alone under the desk.
But you can't stand.. The flourecent lights
Its not dim, not yellow, no color, it is not warm, like the coffee shop
It is so meaningless and ill,
but its disgusting meaning is heavy on you,
it hurts your eyes,
Its burdening
Its cold
But everyone else is accustomed to it except for you,
This is probably why no one wants you..
I'm not discussing with any readers how people don't like me because I dont like fancy lighting, but these are all metaphors between the coffee shop and the flourecent lights.
Once, I went insane
Hysterical
There was an empty wall
It was white
Of course Hysterical Nina hates white
Its like the flourecent white
So empty, theres nothing on it
So I filled it with my hate
I screamed at it
I spat at it
I kicked it
I leaned against it, begging for forgiveness.
I clawed it
I painted scary things on it
Anything you could do to a wall, I did it.
I never knew anger until that day.
All those whom harmed me, lyed within that wall, they were yelled at
But of course, like the empty white light in class that lifts them
They feel nothing, not terrorized
As I get dizzy and my face is red
I look at the paintings I drew
On that wall
They're in my heart, they're made up, they're human
They're not dim lights, or empty lights, theyre no lights.
They scared me that I could paint such things
Now, I hesitate to get ready in school everyday
Because I fear them
As I feel them following me everywhere..