This may be reality. Or it could be fiction, one never knows. She just walks the darkned streets, thinking. Always thinking. Of what it would be like if she wasn't who she was. Though, trust me, she has no wants or intentions of being anyone else. It's just an after thought really.
Now there she stands, silent. A pale skinned shadow, knowing everything and nothing about the place she's in. Just staring towards the empty space between her and eternity. The ground below is far, far away. Lights twinkle both above and below. Burning brightly together. They have everything in their worlds. The sky is filled, cramped even with those fiery entities. They have each other to turn to, you can hardly tell when one blows out. Perhaps, thinking again, the stars know how she feels right now.
She looks over her life inside her mind. People came and went. Men came and went. Once, twice. She was only ever serious with the one and he broke her. Took great pleasure in doing so as a matter of fact. It's been three years since she's realy thought of that. It's almost like a picture of someone else's life. She was someone else once. But that's not who she is now or ever will be again.
Turning away from the edge, stumbling back to the world below. She walks the streets, dark and solid. She's thinking, always thinking of what it would be like if someone wanted to hold her now? Hug her close to themselves. What would they be thinking? Nothing, most likely. There is no one like that for her now. But she is strong. Smart. Independent. She doesn't mind. {Keep in mind, she loves who she is. She will not take second seat with herself again. Not for anyone else.} She's used to this by now... She's alone. She's so alone.
And it seems she doesn't know how to be anything else.
This is a part of her fiction. Or it could be reality, one never knows.
This is part of her fiction. Or it could be reality, one never knows.