There isn't much to write about, is there?

The marker keeps on blinking, taunting her to come up with something interesting, almost showing its impatience (if it were to be animated). With its consistent beat, like ones own heart, adrenaline starts to rise and take over--along with confusion and irrationality--. She stares. It pounds, getting back at her. One hand resting on the keyboard.. idle fingers. She cannot dare stare at the marker, inexplicably stabbing her very core.


SHUT UP.


"Elevate your tone," she says to herself.

*

Silence. A bothering routine.


It is irrevocable to click the little red box when you know there isn't much use and purpose; w h y I am here.

*

It is officially, the start of another year. C h a n g e. That word doesn't sound so bad, does it? No more resolutions, she gets sick of them by the second. It just pains her to browse at, once more, what she cannot be. Specifically obscure.

*

When you're alone, there is relief. But on some thought (to ponder on), there is longing. There is silence. There is consciousness.

*

I cannot keep my head from the what if's.

1. What if I was white?
2. What if I was tall?
3. What if I was in Aly or AJ's place?
4. What if I was an only child?
5. What if..

--what?
6. What if I had your brain?
7. What if I was as smart as you?
8. What if I was skinny?
9. What if I had blue eyes and blonde hair?
10. What if I could predict and read people's minds?
11. What if I was invisible?
12. What if I was dead?


READ THIS ALOUD, WITH CORRECT PAUSE, BREATHING AND TONE.

HA HA !

HNY !

Hello ?