Posted in my writing, Uncategorized

Part 2: Middle ground

No Prince kissed the Princess awake. She woke up alone, blurry eyes, mouth dry.

She was so cold.

The cold flooded her whole body, gooseflesh chased up her arms and her shoulders.

She was so tired.

She sat up shakily in her room, surrounded by her material loves and items she should cherish. But she had never felt so empty.

She was an empty shell, she felt as if something had used it claws to tear out all of the good parts, and the bad parts. Leaving nothing behind.

She felt like nothing.

This feeling continued. Her father would not so much glance in her direction, or breathe in the same room she was occupying. It caused him too much pain, so she heard.

Her animals could no longer amuse her or occupy her thoughts, her studies no longer gripped her, her skills and training merely exhausted her, it was a temporary release, but she had nothing to fight for. She found any immediate task a huge duty, despite craving a distraction from the empty feeling inside.

Then, all of a sudden, the feeling stopped, the coldness was everlasting, the tiredness weakening her every move.

She hated this, she loathed feeling like this, being here surrounded by pain, so, one night, she left.

No goodbyes were said, no ceremonies took place, no belongings were packed. She faded away with the oncoming sun, just because she could.

 

 

 

 

There were many rumours about the lost Princess. According to the people, because the peoples word was power, she had died, eloped, run away or maybe there wasn’t a princess at all.

She didn’t lose everything, she gave it up. And she was happy.

It was no longer coldness the plagued her, she felt the suns heat on her face, she was enveloped with small moments of tender happiness bloomed bright in her once empty chest.

She now lived in a much smaller kingdom, poorer in wealth too. Nevertheless, it was wealthy in spirit and hope too.

Every time spring began she was able to watch the sun rise over the small town outside the kingdom and watched its reflections off many windows like a thousand lights and she thought that this is what being  peace was.

Because she was at peace.

Because she was allowed to have a choice.

She had allowed herself to leave, she was allowed to be what she wanted to be, because she didn’t know who she was. She knew what she had to be:

    THE BEST

And she was the best, she was the best she could be. But she no longer wanted to push herself into being moulded to what other people wanted her to be. She was going to be what she wanted, and on her own terms, she was going to show them all.

 

 

 

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Posted in my writing, Thoughts, Uncategorized

Prompt: Storm

Storm

I do not just have a storm dancing in my ribcage. It is much more than that.

I am the Storm.

The Storm is in my fatigue, my laziness, my ambition and my sunny mornings.

It is in my acne riddled skin and in my wants and my aims and in the palms of my hands.

The Storm is in my words and actions and my choices.

The Storm is in everything I am and everything I do.

I am the Storm.

Watch me drown you.