If you looked down at me from way up above, you would see white blinds trying to shut you out, but the warmth would draw you in and you would see through them. You would see a clean room overflowing with light. Pictures of a thousand memories would be littered across the shelf, each one full to the top with the feelings of her youth. There beneath the light you would see her sprawled across her bed, a blue sea of dreams. Her feet would be propped up crossed in the air and she would be biting her lower lip. On the left you could see an open textbook, shapes and numbers everywhere, and the journal half filled with a pencil resting askew. The journal is a black, college-bound notebook, appearing to be a little girl’s dream of writing a story, but hidden within it are her big-girl secrets. In front of her you would see the love of her life, a vibrating glowing little object. This is how she would look, how she was when in-between.
Along the pages on her right are words scribbled down, beginnings and notes, but no endings. For as the time ticked on, her mind became restless and her brain strayed from the page. The words lost their meaning as she kept rolling on the blue waves, soaring thought, the sea of her mind.
You look back a few beats later, now there’s a sound, the sound of humming. You would think your true love’s song a melody, high and sweet, but not hers. The song of her love was a low humming, like a bee’s wing beating together, as it lit up her life, with a white glow. Her smile is warm now, the thoughtful eyes gone. Deep down inside her, her heart is warming, warmth for the love, but not of her phone, but of the act of letting go. Letting go of your pride and apologizing, a huge feat just then directed towards her.
She looks at the book, too many words and numbers for her mind to handle right now. But she goes on, she lets her mind wrap around them, for now she has a warm heart and she won’t stop it. She can do what’s unwanted as long as it goes by quick. For it will, as she never stays on something too long, the wind blows her ship back and forth between.
You look back again, now hours later. This time the light is not warm. The white fills the tiled room with anticipation, sharp and clear, nothing more. A man is walking in the front of the room, pencil waving through the air. It is quite a weird assortment today, the colors of a rainbow with her being the brightest and the one shining above all others. But she is oblivious to the man, to the lights, to everyone for the moment, for she is engrossed in a book, her nose filling with the scent of paper. Her mind can’t stay on the subject at hand; her completed comp book is sitting by her head, with all the descriptions of going ahead to the task, skipping the intro.
She has made her point and for now can rest, letting the words slur before reaching her. The words of others have filled her head making her want more, the need for literature, one of the few needs of humans, the need to read, the need to hear the wisdom of others, the best way to learn. She has discovered this need and for now it will keep her, within its grasp. She can’t escape.
Again though does she stray, she struggles free, a path of little stepping stones. She still won’t listen though. She has new wisdom of her own. The wisdom from her eyes can’t stay put; it begins to run through her blood, reaching her fingertips as she writes it down again, writes her story, told through others’ eyes. What may appear?
This is who she is. The girl in-between is never satisfied with a single thing. Her mind sprints on, leaving the rest behind, going from one place to another. She will never be understood, how she runs through her head so fast, but now you will see the product of it, what comes out of it. This girl is from the in-between.
That's how you will find her now, in the room of warmth, surfing her sea again.