One Teenage (Day)dream

I should write more often. Because of a conversation about the overly casual way netizens scramble to leave their own trail on the internet.

Sustainability. The capacity to endure.

Definitions tossed around her, she wandered elsewhere. Traveling backwards, she felt curiously homesick.

But, you don't understand, she protested. You don't see. They are beauty personified. Sincerity. Hilarity.

And so she dreamt.

But the future is determined to whirl her away from the shore of her mind. So before is she is swept out to sea, she catalogs her sun and moon.

Cataloging those nights, wrapping each in the wrinkled well loved tissue paper of herself, she stored them.

They are precious to me. I need to remember.

Autotuned beats reverberating in the room, warm hugs, tea slapped down in excitement. Laughter drawn from each well.

Girlish squeals over prospective romance while infinitely energied puppies bound through the room.

The night. The chill locked outside. Inside, three bodies sardined and snuggled beneath quilts, arms thrown over each other. This casual affection, leaving the morning unacknowledged. Wasted time together. Laughter cracking unfamiliarity apart in the midst of belting out unknown songs.

Heat of skin on skin, radiating. Smooth, and comfortable, tempered by coolness outside blankets. She felt the strength of a heart beat through her, you see. Faster and stronger than her own, with enough love to capture anyone. Juxtaposition of light and dark.

Watching painted skies through fogged glass.

Little wonder her attention is elsewhere.

She wouldn't give trade a few frustrated days for the rest of it. Confusion.

Time, seasoned as she is, glides along regardless. So she finds the body jailed in a classroom, apart from lovers and friends while the the spirit forays into the mind.

She is starved for affection here. Don't tease the desperate. She craves the comfort in knowing she doesn't face the day alone. The night alone. Nothing has changed, but it still feels emptier without you.

Maybe I should edit my writing. Practice in being cohesive.

P.S. For some reason, I can't edit any of the text's format...it just..goes. on its own.