I'm in and out of consciousness; I haven't slept well the past two weeks. Not because I have a difficult and unbendable schedule, and not because my levels of cortisol are about to hit the stratosphere or are anywhere near it. My sleeping time just seems to be the perfect time to think and wonder; about time and distance, about life and existance... about the beauty of love and everything that dares to defy it. Yet, all that questioning is wearing me out, and it doesn't seem to lead somewhere.
I fell asleep for twenty seven minutes, and I had a dream; a dream that was interrupted by the pink petals that sneaked through my window; through the roads of the breeze. I stretched the still folded sheet over my body and my frozen muscles shivered under it. Then I clenched my jaw and I looked at the clock saying it was 5:57 a.m. My eyes were blinking apathetically until I noticed how the morning decorated my room with cherry blossoms... And I wondered why.
I shook off my drowsiness, and sat up. The sun was on its way West and when I looked out the window, I saw my neighbor waving her hand at me; she had gotten up early to work on her garden. I bowed my head and waved back at her, as a sloppy smile showed off on my face.
"Oh, my darling," she said within a chuckle, with that Hispanic accent of hers. "I can see you're in love." I thought of ignoring her words for half-second. But I'm all about impulses and I couldn't help it. "How would you know that?" I snapped, because I wondered why she'd say something like that. Then I realized I sounded a bit asocial, so I laughed, hoping that would make it up. Although, I don't think she cared anyway.
"Ah. Well, darling, your eyes are smiling and I bet they're watering. Yet, your lips don't know which way to bend." Time and distance have confused my smile. Missing someone is not hard. But dealing with it hurts. I nodded because I had no alibi. I had absolute no words left to say on my pockets... And I wondered why.
My neighbor kept working on her garden and I stared blankly at the place. Then I noticed it had just stopped raining and lots of petals were floating on the dirty puddles. The picture wasn't exactly pleasant to me, but I know it was, once; perhaps a few years back, when jumping on them was what I considered happiness. Life and existance have confused my mind as I've grown up.
I wondered why, again. And, for a second, I came to know nothing at all. Suddenly, I understood everything as I snapped my fingers hard. But at the same time the complexity was too flummoxing for my human mind. All that was clear was that time, distance, existance, love, hate (everything that was good or bad in its relativity)... that was life, and all those things rely on each other for survival. I accepted it for a while, and it was all good.
Then I woke up.
And I forgot whatever it was I understood. I no longer remember; for my pain or my understanding. And I wonder why.
Wow, this was a great story. Like @recycledsoul sad it is not really senseless. It made a lot of sense to me. Great job and I hope to read more!
Why would you call this a senseless story? It made quite some sense to me. It's quiet, I'll give you that and a bit different but certainly not senseless. I love how you have described everything going on. There is a certain calmness about your writing, and I always like that in short stories. I like how you elaborate stuff so I would love to see you describe things a bit more. You did, in the initial parts but in the later parts the story become kind of straight forward. Loved it anyway. Cheers
Barnyard Reviews: A Review For You ("Senseless Words" by GeeLyria)
The story "Senseless Words" describes itself as a senseless story. But unless my definition of senseless is inaccurate, the description is inaccurate itself. Because senseless can describe anything but this story. The meaning is there, and its crystal clear. I couldn't tell you what it is though, because I'm not the smartest lobster in the tank.
The prose of this story leaves nothing to be desired, opting for a sensible and underinflected tone that is beautiful, yet also can hold the attention of someone like myself, who's attention span has only been calculated to the three thousandth digit, and all of them have been a decimal and zeroes so far.
There seems to be an aptitude for showing in the writer, that is, as adverse to telling, and this gives the piece a little lemon juice to the palet, because it can. There is an obvious storyline here, part of which is implied, organized into seemingly irrelevant, although chronous anecdotes, and it is melancholy but alsoo attractive. The ability of the author to include dialogue in all this is also something to be celebrated.
If I were to meet this writer in a face to face, I'd suggest to her nothing but length. Although what you have written has said all it needed to say, I think you can say more. People like this stuff; give em what they want! It's a great piece, and I don't think adding some more content will do it any harm.
With that said, this meal of a story leaves the reader satisfied, and more than ready to return to the establishment it was served at with four or five others to make mandatory the matching of the 15 percent tip that the reader initially left at the tasting of this story.
I would recommend this to anyone who wants to actually think for a couple seconds.
9/10
This review <3 Makes me happy, two years later.
<3