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i didn't mean to start like this.
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[ this will be a waste of your time ]
universeNa20DeSaHill
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i don't own Naruto.
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she breathes a temperature imbalance. she breathes fog into the cold and she tastes pins and needles and pulls her scarf a little tighter; she wears it like a noose but she got it all wrong and it isn't as lethal as she's hoped. there are pins in her hair. the air steals her heat. the world is stealing her fire.
every step on the ice is like walking on eggshells. she forgot to buy groceries. she forgot to text ino. maybe she'll be forgiven. maybe her ankles are too weak and she's scared to fall. she makes a list in her head of everything she needs to do and forgets it a heartbeat later. the worries pound in her chest but they cannot get out. she knows the path of every major vein and artery.
there is a blond across the street who looks like ino but ino would never eat ice cream in the winter. she craves a mocha and finds the furthest café to satisfy herself. the bun in her hair is falling out. the thread in her gloves is unravelling. she needs a haircut. she never sees ino in person anymore anyway.
she should be indignant when the employee doesn't look her in the face when she orders. the whipped cream on her mocha is sweet but the chocolate on top is sweeter. she drinks through the stir stick. her parents taught her coffee but they never taught her how to stop. she is in university now. her honours thesis supervisor is the chair. tsunade works her hard. she memorized all the enzymes' full names for no reason at all. the textbooks she carries are breaking her back. her scarf is tightening.
her sclera burn. she rubs her eyes and they begin to itch. her calves itch. her neck itches. she takes the bun out of her hair and remembers that she never gave sasuke his pencil back. she used it for three midterms. her grades are important because her parents say so.
the steam from the coffee floats away. the sky is overcast. she shivers every time the cafe door is opened. it smells like winter. fairy lights are up. the radio is a broken record. sleigh bells ring in every song.
she has a strange and overwhelming desire to buy a ring. she wants to wear a ring. it is not on the shopping list. she needs to buy eggs.
happiness is no longer a fire in her chest; happiness is not trying too hard and burning out from the effort. happiness is sitting in the cold with a scarf and a pair of gloves and nothing to do, a mocha in her hands. right now is her happy.
she looks good. she looks good because she showered this morning and her hair is behaving and her clothes are cute. good is not the size of her forehead. it is not the circumference of her thighs.
tomorrow she will see hinata at dance class. today there are winter songs in her ear. she wants to move around. she needs to catch up on sleep. she wipes off the whipped cream on her upper lip. she hasn't cried for weeks. the heater is always on.
no one says goodnight anymore.
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i cannot sleep and i need to write. i am half asleep. apologies if you made it this far. i will do better. there are pins in my hair.
i have made minor edits and would like to add that this is something i wrote in the first few months after i stopped feeling significantly depressed and my panic attacks stopped. if that is somewhat enlightening, so be it.
princess⁞×