@cosmicnerd6959

1 year ago

So I was feeling really melancholy when I came upon this playlist, and I found the picture grabbed my attention, so I opened a Word document and just...started writing. With no idea what I was even intending to write, I ended up kinda using the picture as a prompt. I decided to add some different details and changes, and now this short story I've made is dedicated to anyone and everyone who struggles to motivate themselves, or make it through each day, but who keeps going anyway. You are amazing for doing that, and even if others don't see all the effort you're putting in, I do, and I want to give you credit for that. Keep surviving everyday //// <3 Orange sun shone softly through the window, casting a comforting, soft glow upon the wooden floor. It lighted upon the scattered books, spine-up, the papers decorated with scrawled writing, heaped in various slanting piles, the sad little potted plants on the windowsill, their leaves of vibrant green overtaken by the grey of an unlit room during dusk. It appeared the room told a story of its owner. That they enjoyed music, records splayed over the well-worn rug, headphones curling around the laptop perched upon a little coffee table, adorn with mugs containing remnants of tea, candles with flickering flames and various gems and rocks. That they played the violin, the sleek string instrument resting against a beanbag, bow leaning up against a wall strung with pale fairy lights and decorated with a calendar and pin-up board containing inspirational quotes that suggest they find it difficult to be motivated. All about there are hoodies and baggy shirts dumped unceremoniously in random spots, the bright red of high-heeled converse peeking out from under the bed to peer at the human sprawled out on the floor. They lay on their back, one leg outstretched, the other bent slightly in a lazy, relaxed position. One arm under their head, the other resting by their side, fingertips brushing the fur of a small cat curled up beside them, eyes closed, tail tucked around its body, sleeping contentedly. The sun’s dying rays caught only half of their body, the other half swallowed by the dim room. The orange glow spilled over their tan skin, exploring the oversized white shirt that reached their knees, catching just one leg in its mellow light, a white sock with peach stripes trapped within the view of the sky. Ruffled, dark hair shone bronze, framing their youthful face, the picture of pensive, with brown eyes roving the stony-faced wall opposite, which only stared back, perfectly impassive. Time passed and the sky darkened, the light slowly receding, slipping away from the motionless figure, retreating ever so slowly, leaving more of the room to fall into the clutches of the grey. The analogue clock beside their bed stated it was 5:38pm on a Thursday. During the orange glow’s silent retreat, a labelled container full of colourful pills glinted slightly in the sinking sun’s last resort at providing light, Monday through to Wednesday’s compartments empty, Thursday’s yet to be opened. And still time crept by. Lips drawn into a thin line, brows furrowed, lines wrinkling across a face too young to be so marred by worry. Their gaze swept across the quotes, staring at one after the other with a hollowness that disintegrated all the usefulness of each. No book, no music, no sunset would fill them with enough will to get up off the floor, to clean up the mess that had accumulated over the past few days, to do anything. There was no more energy left, nothing to run on. And so, the grey strengthened its hold of the room, and the room’s owner. A last ray of the orange light shone desperately through the windowpane, reaching for the motionless person, casting a brief golden glow upon their cheek, before vanishing, slipping away into the descending darkness. That ray stirred something that had been laying dormant within them. Pick up a book. Finish that paper. Practice some violin. Watch a movie. Play a record. Water your plants. Take.Your.Pills. Awoken from their conscious slumber, they blinked, and sat up, gazing out the window, where a faint stain of orange could be seen on the horizon, the sun’s last reminder to them. If you don’t have the will to find the light, then it will come and find you. They reached out and popped the lid of the container, shook the pills into their hand, grabbed a half-empty water bottle and made the first attempt of that day to make it to the next. They tapped at the laptop, which emitted a bright light, and released a stream of soft, calming waves, rolling from the device’s speakers and filling the previously silent room. Papers rustled as they searched for a pen, finding one beneath sheets of music. Ink spilt upon their skin, forming a dark, solid vertical line. Next to another. And another. And another. An arm adorned with line after line, split into groups of five. Just another day survived. //// <3

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