( I probably don't have to tell you any of this, since everyone does that already, you'll have to excuse me I'm a newbie xD )~
ZOMYGOODNESS! some ideas for titles would be off the charts rad as well, if you don't me using them if I choose to do so.
"Excuse me Miss, you can come in now."
A sutle voice just merely over a whisper led me down the hall of endless florescent lighting. I slowly lifted my head above an old magazine. I stopped kicking into the shag carpeting and began to walk into the broken cave of hostility. One would say I've been here two times too many. One would say I come here apathetically against my will, or simply to please only one person never caring about the brokenness around me. The aroma of sickness filled the air and found it's way to my nostrils. I didn't even have to take a second glance to know the pain sealed in these walls. It was as if every person that was there, for whatever reason, was all crying out for the one same reason the whole place cried out for. If depression was a scent, it wouldn't dare lurk any place but here.
I finally reached the last room at the end of the hall. The nurse led me in with her hypocritical warm smile, like I was walking into a bakery or something, instead of a patients room. I gazed down at the face I once knew below me. An unbarring tension built up inside me that was now running rapidly through my veins. Right then and there I wanted to give him the world, I wanted to give him a river he could splash in while feeling the crisp wind brush between his fingers and whisper in his ear. I was reaching for a disappearing star, I knew it was there looking down on me. I wanted to touch it, I wanted to grasp it, I wanted to take it down from the sky and hug it close to me. The stars were starting to sleep, and the sun was waking up. I felt there was no hope in me ever reaching that star. Awkwardly, at the same time, I had to keep reaching for it no matter what. As I thought about all of this, he blankly stared up at me. His face was no different then the white wall behind him.
Every story begins with words. Every song begins with a rhythm. Every dream begins with an imagination. Every thought begins with a soul. To hear my rhythm, to read my words, to see my dreams, and to feel my soul I'd have to take you back to the beginning. Back before any of this even happened. Back to the memories so close in the distance. I'd have to freeze time itself, draw in a deep breath, and trace back to the very first footstep.
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