This is old.
Somewhat.
She had the reddest hair that I’ve ever seen, as red and pure and deep as the blood that comes out of the very core of people.
She taught me things I will never express as well as her, to simply live life and try you hardest to forget about fear since it’s impossible to ignore. She knew all about the things I would hardly dare to question, things that arose in my mind only when I wasn’t thinking. Those kind of things were what she constantly thought about, as her brain was ever whirring and ticking, like a clock or machine, maybe, a machine with an unknown purpose. She let me know that it’s okay to include a run-on sentence or two in life, it was okay to just let things flow and we should only worry when they stopped flowing. It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done, to just listen to her.
She introduced me to the beauty of things one can create instead of things one can just find; the former being the most important. For her, life was about constantly creating. She told me a few times that she hated the way she thought but there was nothing to do but accept it, and that was also in turn her biggest truth.
She showed me the beauty of a blank page and then a full one, and the process therein. Her hair was the reddest I’ve seen but she swore she didn’t dye it, and there was nothing I could do except believe her. She was so proud that I could do that.
She left me on purpose, to leave her magic to become mine and to ensure that I can keep it flowing. She taught me how. She showed me how. She didn’t need to teach me anything. She simply opened my eyes, dialated my pupils, and awoke me to this new thought process. The one that always nagged me but I always blocked out. She simply erased the façade and let me unfold.
I met another girl with red hair. I knew I had to show her too, and all because I caught her buying a box of hair dye.
She had the reddest hair that I’ve ever seen, as red and pure and deep as the blood that comes out of the very core of people.
She taught me things I will never express as well as her, to simply live life and try you hardest to forget about fear since it’s impossible to ignore. She knew all about the things I would hardly dare to question, things that arose in my mind only when I wasn’t thinking. Those kind of things were what she constantly thought about, as her brain was ever whirring and ticking, like a clock or machine, maybe, a machine with an unknown purpose. She let me know that it’s okay to include a run-on sentence or two in life, it was okay to just let things flow and we should only worry when they stopped flowing. It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done, to just listen to her.
She introduced me to the beauty of things one can create instead of things one can just find; the former being the most important. For her, life was about constantly creating. She told me a few times that she hated the way she thought but there was nothing to do but accept it, and that was also in turn her biggest truth.
She showed me the beauty of a blank page and then a full one, and the process therein. Her hair was the reddest I’ve seen but she swore she didn’t dye it, and there was nothing I could do except believe her. She was so proud that I could do that.
She left me on purpose, to leave her magic to become mine and to ensure that I can keep it flowing. She taught me how. She showed me how. She didn’t need to teach me anything. She simply opened my eyes, dialated my pupils, and awoke me to this new thought process. The one that always nagged me but I always blocked out. She simply erased the façade and let me unfold.
I met another girl with red hair. I knew I had to show her too, and all because I caught her buying a box of hair dye.