Grit

Her two ears were dedicated to listening to Drake, Mumford and Sons, and Radiohead on a Sunday.

Her ensemble screamed different among the crowd. Still, her feelings were painfully unchanged. She’s standing on the edge and anytime she might just choose to jump willingly or fall blindly. The weight of silence could push her forward and its gravity could pull her down for good.

The entire day was consisted of errands here and there. She needed focus yet she walked with lost eyes and distant thoughts. She stopped for a while and hunted for refuge in a new coffee shop. She found calm and scribbled briefly on the blankness at the back of the receipt. She decided to go home. She followed the queue. She waited too long while carrying her heavy purchases and her heavy heart.

 

Monday was a new day stuffed with new encounters.

She fearfully picked a shade of pink nail polish when the lady in purple inquired about her choice. The scream got louder and she might just explode any time. There might be something wrong but there might be something right too.

She walked. She was looking for a book. She ate in spontaneous cafes where her tired feet would take her. She scribbled again. She found the book. She walked again. She got lost in two cities but she just continued walking until she found the spot to finally ride back home. And she did.

She listened to Bastille for the first time that night.