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“When I’m alone I think, and think, and think.”

 

 

Color

 

 

 

“So this is what you do all day?”

 

I heave a sigh and look up at the potent voice that managed to break my muse. Almost immediately I look back down at my writing before taking yet another inhale of the somehow sweet cigarette I managed to smuggle inside of here. I don’t respond to his words, I simply choose to ignore them. That’s what annoys me the most, when I don’t talk and most assume I’m either stupid or mute. And I know what you’re thinking. Well then, maybe you should manage a conversation. Talk a little; waste your time by giving in to what they want.

 

But I simply don’t find what they’re talking about interesting enough to even waste my breath.

 

So, I shrug my shoulders a bit and look around the white walls. These walls, they’re about my only friends. They’ve been through everything with me, seen everything I didn’t want to be seen, and heard every secret I whispered to myself when it’s too late to utter a word too loud. Which by the way I often do, I simply lay in bed as everyone else is asleep and think, talk, sing, whisper. What else is there to do?

 

No, this isn’t what I do all day. I don’t paint works of art and listen to music. No, that’s just a show. I want people to think I’m that artistic one who doesn’t have a word to say and gets lost in my vibes. When really I’m probably the most annoying brat known to mankind. I’m just not ready to release that side of me yet. I haven’t found anyone that would simply accept it.

 

“Come on, Symphony. You’ve been here for two years and you still won’t speak to anyone. How are they supposed to know if you’re mentally stable to the point where you can go home? Don’t you want to go home? Aren’t you tired of these white rooms and stale water? You’re an artist—why don’t you just speak and I’ll buy you a studio, hell even two studios just-…just please say something.”

 

How horribly pathetic, I tell myself. Does he really think that just because he’s bribing me that I’m going to say something? I honestly couldn’t even fathom my brother to become this desperate. And maybe that’s the only reason I’m going to speak. Because watching him look like a kicked puppy is amusing, however stupid and slightly heart breaking. Slightly.

 

I look at him, and then at the man in a white doctor’s coat, his eyes traveling to the obvious scars upon my collarbone and wrist, and as usual I ignore the glances. They don’t hurt anymore. I’ve come to the realization that self mutilation was something to be judged and even frowned upon, and so I stopped caring long ago what others thought about.

 

“Two studios?”

 

Baffled the nurses widened their eyes and my brother managed to smile the brightest I’ve seen in a long time. I don’t smile back. I look into his eyes and then back down at my notepad.

 

“I told you that you’d only be here temporarily. Let’s go back to Los Angeles, alright?”

 

_

 

 

Awaking to the blinding white lights, I wince a bit before sitting up in my bed. I look over at the empty bed next to me and almost immediately smile. When you’ve been somewhere for an extremely long time, it’s hard to forget those who’ve helped you and my roommate Jessica should get an award for the amount of bullshit she’s sorted for me.

 

It would be the last time I would see her long body spread out on the bed like that. Bittersweet, but I would much rather be back in a space where I can have control than be stuck here for the rest of my damn life.

 

It takes two hours to get on the road, one for the annual goodbye party that they set up without my knowledge, and another to make sure I had everything. Well, and to deal with Jessica’s clingy ass hugging me and practically begging me not to go. I told her we’d meet again and I’m not so sure if that was the truth or not but hell, it suited the moment so I threw it in there. She looked so surprised to hear me talk I had to bite back a smirk.

 

While in the car ride I had to put up with constant stories about my brother, Conner. Apparently I’ve missed a lot because he has a boyfriend now (what the hell, he’s gay?) and they owned a restaurant together that was doing rather well, not that I gave a damn about it. They were thinking about getting married, and Conner told me I would make a lovely flower girl. I’m not even quite sure if he’s joking or not but for the sake of my dignity I hope he was.

 

And finally, the airport.

 

I’m not usually one to think about my looks much. I can care less what I’m wearing or how burnt out I look, as long as I blend in and it was so obvious. Figuring I’d be in a plane for a while I sported a pair of loose sweats and a tank top. My shoes were worn down converse that my brother had insisted I threw out after the incident however I didn’t. Call it sick but, in some way, it was like a memento. You can still see small blood stains upon the white parts of them. Everything was white—like the walls.

 

“I’m going to go to the restroom. Wait for me okay?” Conner muttered before ruffling my blonde hair. I blink innocently and notice that he actually looks worried about me staying alone. I let out a smirk before rolling my eyes a bit.

 

“Where else am I supposed to go?”

 

He chuckled although the gesture seemed a bit too forced and then shook his head in disbelief before leaving me alone. I don’t complain though. I prefer it that way. It was a long while of me simply sitting there before hearing soft panting, soft and beautiful panting—whatever happened felt like it was in slow motion.

 

I slowly looked up from my delicate hands playing with the grey cotton material of my sweats to see beautiful locks of virgin black hair bouncing up and down. His legs, long and beautiful, were moving in such a nice position it seemed as if he was skating upon ice. And when I looked to notice his eyes, I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes as beautiful before. They work on him, I thought before breaking out of my trance as he stops running a few feet past me, sweaty and pale skin being caressed by the sun of the open windows surrounding the airport.

 

I’m lost at this point. Undoubtedly lost and addicted. How could I get in such a trance so easily? Just by simple and every day actions? I don’t know but he made everything seem so beautiful. 

 

For a split second, he looked at me. His dark eyes narrowing in on my small and pale face but I don’t look away. That’s not something I do. And just as fast as his glance he looks away and walks near the spacious area next to the window.

 

I finally breathe.

 

I lick my chapped lips and suddenly I feel a hand upon my shoulder, immediately causing me to hitch my breath and look at my older brother. He’s grinning like a fool as he hands me a smoothie and I honestly have no choice to accept. Although the thought of eating or taking in any substance right now feels as disgusting as ever, I take a sip and make sure he believes that I’m fine.

 

After a few minutes, they are hoarding us into the airplane. I sit in the back, earphones blasted up to maximum volume and head leaning against the window. In front of me I see a woman with face horrible masked with cheap make up and her annoyingly loud husband next to her. I’m thankful I have music because I’m pretty sure any stupidity will cause me to snap at the most smallest and microscopic idiotic phase anyone could come up with.

 

A small white flash in the corner of my eye and automatically my head snaps to the body that sits next to me. It’s him. I don’t know why but I feel like shrinking. He’s here, next to me, and simply staring.

 

And then he smiles.

 

I smile back.

 

And somewhere in between that—we both fell hard.

 

For each other that is.

 

_

 

 

We talk, about any and everything on the plane. Well, he talks and I simply listen.

 

He has a pet, a little yorkie poodle who manages to destroy anything in her feisty path. For the time being she’s the only woman in his life he will tolerate. The male lives in a large apartment with his best friend, and apparently if they’re not doing stupid dares they’re constantly at the beach. He listens to Nirvana in the shower, and he lost his virginity to tumblr, His mental virginity that is.

 

 I’m not even sure how long it was since we’ve been on there, but we are and just as soon as we start talking we finish. The plane is descending and any hope of ever meeting this man vanishes just as easily as it had begun.

 

I don’t even check to see how far he is in the crowd of people rushing to get to where they need to be as I get to the baggage claim, my brothers arm slung around my shoulder as if it’s a simple move. I look into his warm eyes and he smiles. And for a while I do too.

 

Just as we get our luggage I turn on my music once more, blasting the erotic and somehow addicting beats to whatever the hell is on Pandora at the moment. It’s not long before I manage to get inside of the taxi and from there we’re on our way to his place.

 

I don’t quite remember falling asleep but when I awake my long locks of hair are covering my face as my brother is shaking me gently.

 

“Come on, sis. We’re here.”

 

I peak my eyelid open just slightly and when I look at the large building I stretch and make my way out of the car, luggage in my right hand. Arctic Monkey’s is playing and my brother is humming along to the tune. I laugh lightly and shake my head.

 

“You’re such a dork.”

 

He rolls his eyes and smirks.

 

“I’m just more tumblr worthy than you honey. Now let’s get you to the house. Want me to carry you?”

 

“As tempting as that sounds I’d rather walk. Exercise is my friend, you know.” And that ends that.

 

_

 

 

“Symphony…symphony wake up.” I stir slightly in my sleep but refuse to awake. That’s when I feel a sharp pain at my wrist.

 

A familiar and addicting pain.

 

Immediately I sit up, and that’s when I see it. Blood, so much damn blood dripping on the white tile. And more, and more, and then when I look up I’m surrounded by mirrors. Mirrors and…and white. It makes me sick, I feel trapped and claustrophobic. I hate this feeling and so I pound at the walls, I need to get out and yet at every turn I see my naked body through the mirrors.

 

Disgusting. Fat. Gross. Distorted.

 

The mirrors show every honest and brutal image of what I look like and I never really like the reflection.

 

My eyes are too large, my lips too puckered, my breasts—too large for my liking. My hair was always the same length, never longer and never stayed short for too long. I hate it. I hate me, and yet I can’t escape.

 

More blood, the color red is slowly covering all over the walls and floors, and I can’t stop it. The blood is overwhelming and pretty soon my throat is dry and tears are falling. I can’t think for a second and soon I’m drowning…but I won’t die.

 

God is too cruel to let me die—he wants me to continue this cage. I’m trapped and I’ll never be able to get out.

 

I see the ceiling transform into—ripples of beautiful water? And then a hand, a pale and large hand is reaching out to me; I have no choice to grab it and as I do I’m being pulled up.

 

I can breathe again.

 

Immediately I sit up in the bed, my body drenched with sweat as I look around. No blood, no mirrors, just a silly girl laying on the comfy couch that her brother and her boyfriend were kind enough to let her crash on until she got her life together.

 

Immediately I pant and close my eyes before hugging the pillow as tight as I can, tears are streaming my cheeks now and then falling but I refuse to awake Conner and Alex (his boyfriend) over something as silly as a stupid nightmare.

 

I sigh and shake my head, looking down at my shorts before I stand up. Immediately I walk to the bathroom and after splashing my face with water I put on my large grey sweater that had images of cartoon drawn kittens sprawled on top of them, and then my tennis shoes. I grab my wallet and phone before walking outside, the LA breeze hitting my sweaty body causing me to shiver, but I don’t go back outside.

 

I sigh and make my way away from the apartment, headphones on, and explore the city for just a bit. I walk aimlessly, looking at the thousands of stars knowing that out there someone’s doing the same thing as I’m doing. Wondering around, afraid of what they’re becoming, and yet too afraid to end their life.

 

She hated Conner’s apartment. Everything was white and black—no grey area. Isn’t that how life is supposed to be?

 

My cellphone makes a small ‘meow’ sound, interrupting my favorite song of the night and when I look at the message I’m perplexed. Unknown number to my knowledge, but the message sprawled across explains it all.

 

‘Another stupid dare with Ryan, but before I possibly die from it, you should know I find your face rather addicting. Sleep well, and stop wearing sweaters in the summer.’

 

I smile, lock my phone, and look up at the stars. I wonder where he is—after all we’re both looking up at the same sky.