spotted-fawn

I am the feeling of rain when it’s only just started; The condensation on the outside of a cold glass. I am the sparks that rise out of a fire to fly around your face; The long-forgotten dried paint on a table. I am the creases on the spine of your favorite book; A pencil that’s not quite sharp, but not quite dull. I am all these and more, And I just want to be good enough.

i. she sat on the bathroom floor just now, wrapped in a towel, wet hair plastered to her face, wanting to cry, but not being able to. she wasn't sure what she was sad about; probably everything. ii. scientists and doctors have a word for every illness of the mind or body possible, it seems. but what they don't have is a word for when you're happy on the surface, but there's a sadness that goes farther down, almost bone deep.