She looked up, brown hair falling delicately across her shoulders, the strands falling into a million different directions – different paths and journeys, caressing the veins that clenched deep beneath her skin too far for the eye to see.
The emerald dress that cloaked her gentle pale skin danced behind her like flames, putting on a show for the wind; because the air was the only witness to this moment.
Her ebony eyelashes closed, leaving her pupils with no choice but to retract in retaliation at the sudden loss of light. Her eyes were something that none could see. Some would look straight through, others would gaze and ponder of what could lay inside such a complicated creature – twisted and deranged thoughts were always presumed but even the most simplistic of mammals could see something consisting of depth, something extraordinary, compared to what the majority of people inside of this veil call reality.
The people that merely exist in this world do not even understand the true meaning of existence, let alone learning to purely live. When the most complicated of moments are washed away in the back of the mind, when the retina is stained from memories too complex to want to reminisce, when blood drips from the Virgin Mary in disgust. These lifeless beings do not understand.
Her thoughts protruded through her skull, her mind, her era, her world. This object that she called reality was neither reality nor was it reasonable. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew this but as she let her emotions flow, as she kept her eyes closed to the world that had rejected her in more ways than describable. She blocked every noise, every smell and anything that the outside world had to offer her.
The presents that it offered her in splendour were only ever perceived as mere temptations, a moment of bliss to distract her from the past that she had lived.
Presents. Presence.
However can the human race compare a gift to the existence of a being? However can the English language be mutated in such a way that words so similar, where one is so ungrateful and the other is so inexplainable.. in a world where everything is taken for granted.
She forced her eyelids open, despite the makeup that hung like the crisp air that very morning to her eyelashes.
Make up. Make yourself up, change for the society that favours perfection in a world where perfection is unreachable – for the inside of anyone is never good enough for the front cover of a magazine, for the natural look that each and every single one of us was given from birth is not desired from the ones that were born exactly the same.
She glanced down. Her sheer exhaustion had shown itself to her in some form of euphoria, her tiredness had grown to an extreme state of awake that could only ever begin to shake her mind – a mind deprived of natural endorphins, a mind functioning without reason or simplicity.. innocence.
To close my eyes and sleep could only ever end this high – to let go of this extreme only brings depression in the most unpredictable of ways. To forget this feeling is impossible and to let it slip away consciously is beyond impossible.
An object so small, so insignificant and so unnoticeable should never be able to provoke such things. Yet in the subconscious of her mind she knew without a doubt that there is a reason for this, a meaning behind every object be it inanimate or alive, breathing, free.
For this microscopic object never provoked reality. The craving it caused in the grinding of her pearly teeth, the dilation it caused in the eyes that she kept so closed..
Gradually diminishing into the nothing that she had become, only balancing these extremes, only compensation for her loss, only normality inside a world that screamed and scratched at the walls of her mind, dying to escape – trying to suicide within the consciousness that she gained in the better moments, ripping at the roots of her long curls.
The powder shall spread, soak into the tasteless empty holes of my tongue as they absorb, and reap in anything that it should come across. Accepting any form of beauty that shall come it’s way, for the beauty it used to see had faded once upon a time. This white perfection that used to be a fairy tale had overgrown it’s castle, covered it in thorns so no one should dare approach it. Some say that beauty is skin deep so learn to look within, but over time the flora that were once referred to as roses transformed into those night shaded, long and tangling thorns which struck blood to those who should attempt to see the light that may glow inside.
This light is nothing but powder in an overshadowed corner, lost to it’s owner, as she lies dead inside.
She stepped away, flew away.
As a healthy conscious extinguished,
Yet another mind lost perception of correct action
Yet another mind lost acception of one’s self
Yet another object was guided aimlessly
Into the depths of a burnt memories
Into the depths of tomorrow
Forgetting what one had learnt yesterday.
As she stood alone, never to sway.
She left herself in a fairy tale castle,
In the depths of her mind.
Thorns overgrown, alike brain cells, screaming
and reaching for the light she sought inside.

If you wrote that you really should be a writer. it was amazing. well done