Post by Xena on Jun 14, 2008 16:08:48 GMT 7
A scream. My scream.
It echoed and blasted against the walls of the auditorium, encasing my wailings in the room. The blocks containing my shrieks seemed to amplify my voice; the vibrations around bounced off, as if urging the pulsation I made around the large space that can accumulate thousands upon thousands of people.
I donned a black blouse with a plunging neckline, a black-and-white belt with a wooden circle, a knee-length striped skirt in the same style as the belt, and black flats. Laying on the middle of my chest was a silver pendant shaped in a similar manner to a cartoon-drawn tear. My hair was down. The friendship bracelet, gone from my wrist, was left on the bedside table, earning collector's dust.
Normally, I'd be up and about, doing the morning rounds. But, after learning that I 'snapped' - a commonly used term referring to insanity or those insane - I figured I won't have any problem skipping that job and going straight to some place else, where I can do what I want. I'm not up for violence much, so I didn't relinquish my wanting for wrath first thing in the morning. It's roughly noon right now.
I made my way to the auditorium, knowing well that it would be unsupervised and, quite frankly, deserted. At first, upon entering the said venue, I giggled and cackled like an idiot, marvelling the walls and the ceiling, finding something funny with my intentions. I was automatically amused. Look at this wide, empty space, all for me. The area, the walls, the stage, it was all mine, and no one else's.
I didn't scream because I didn't want it; on the contrary, I loved the idea of possessing something as big as this room. Not a single one of the students were inside, mainly because it was lunchtime and they were sane enough to actually eat, while the others hold a reason I don't bother to learn about. I was positioned against the wall far from the closed doorway, on the stage, on my knees while my hazel eyes ran up and down the grand piano.
It's sleek black features intrigued me. How can a mere mortal make something so intricate? I didn't feel the tears streaming down my face, nor did I realize I was already shrieking loudly, but when I thrusted my palms to the wooden stage, the pain shocking my arms and my shoulders, I noticed that I was. I began to laugh sardonically, running my hands through my velvet black hair.
I was troubled. Mentally troubled. There was something wrong with me, and I couldn't pinpoint the exact reason why since yesterday. Maybe because I didn't care, or I didn't want to know. I felt perfectly contented being how I am.
With another round of sarcastic laughter, I rested my forehead on the stage, four feet from the grand piano's legs, the tears falling to the ground continually as a smirk played with my lips. I let myself lay on the ground fully, defeated and tired out from my screaming.
I was troubled. I didn't have a reason not to be.
It echoed and blasted against the walls of the auditorium, encasing my wailings in the room. The blocks containing my shrieks seemed to amplify my voice; the vibrations around bounced off, as if urging the pulsation I made around the large space that can accumulate thousands upon thousands of people.
I donned a black blouse with a plunging neckline, a black-and-white belt with a wooden circle, a knee-length striped skirt in the same style as the belt, and black flats. Laying on the middle of my chest was a silver pendant shaped in a similar manner to a cartoon-drawn tear. My hair was down. The friendship bracelet, gone from my wrist, was left on the bedside table, earning collector's dust.
Normally, I'd be up and about, doing the morning rounds. But, after learning that I 'snapped' - a commonly used term referring to insanity or those insane - I figured I won't have any problem skipping that job and going straight to some place else, where I can do what I want. I'm not up for violence much, so I didn't relinquish my wanting for wrath first thing in the morning. It's roughly noon right now.
I made my way to the auditorium, knowing well that it would be unsupervised and, quite frankly, deserted. At first, upon entering the said venue, I giggled and cackled like an idiot, marvelling the walls and the ceiling, finding something funny with my intentions. I was automatically amused. Look at this wide, empty space, all for me. The area, the walls, the stage, it was all mine, and no one else's.
I didn't scream because I didn't want it; on the contrary, I loved the idea of possessing something as big as this room. Not a single one of the students were inside, mainly because it was lunchtime and they were sane enough to actually eat, while the others hold a reason I don't bother to learn about. I was positioned against the wall far from the closed doorway, on the stage, on my knees while my hazel eyes ran up and down the grand piano.
It's sleek black features intrigued me. How can a mere mortal make something so intricate? I didn't feel the tears streaming down my face, nor did I realize I was already shrieking loudly, but when I thrusted my palms to the wooden stage, the pain shocking my arms and my shoulders, I noticed that I was. I began to laugh sardonically, running my hands through my velvet black hair.
I was troubled. Mentally troubled. There was something wrong with me, and I couldn't pinpoint the exact reason why since yesterday. Maybe because I didn't care, or I didn't want to know. I felt perfectly contented being how I am.
With another round of sarcastic laughter, I rested my forehead on the stage, four feet from the grand piano's legs, the tears falling to the ground continually as a smirk played with my lips. I let myself lay on the ground fully, defeated and tired out from my screaming.
I was troubled. I didn't have a reason not to be.
