Crazy

They called her crazy.

She just sat there, every day, staring out that window.

Never eating.

Never blinking.

Maybe even never breathing.

Any time some food was pushed in front of her, she left it there, occasionally picking up a spoon and playing with the nutrients.

Her favorite thing to play with was cereal.

Out that window she stared, into the cold, dark, wet town in which she was locked inside.

Desperate to leave but afraid of change.

It had snowed again. Everyone knew that she thought the snow was either pretty or disgusting, depending on when you asked her.

“I like when it's just a beautiful blanket of soft white, looking so pure and untouchable.” She would say. “But then we, the wrecking machines, will stomp over it and turn it brown and dirty with our shoes and spit. We are truly awful creatures.”

She had lost all faith in people, she said. Everyone had either made things worse or made things better only to let everything get more worse then before.

They called her crazy.

Sometimes, if you looked close enough, you could see her moving her lips, as if she was whispering to someone out the window.

There was never anyone there.

So they called her crazy.

Over the years she learned to take it as a compliment.

So they called her insane.

And she liked that even better then crazy.

So they sent her away.

And she never came back.
{*}{*}{*}

Don't know what that is.

Hate the ending.

yeah.

sucks.

xoxo

-{mari}