the chronicles of You

You lay down on your bed.

 Not reading. 

Not sleeping.

 Trying to remind herself that beds are not only made for people to sleep or read on. But we learn to reduce things to their purposes. You did this all the time. 

You decide to go for a walk to remind herself she can always do that too. Without a meaning, just like beds, just like those messy sheets of hers. And she comes back to a place that once had a meaning, just to check if the stairs are still rotten and if the pool is still dirty, and they are. And it looks a bit smaller than it was before.

You feel an indescribable will to cry and smile at the same time.